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Chapter Text

Serpent’s Ascending

Chapter 1

Hollows Meeting

Harry was only seven years old when he found the snake-boy. It was during recess at this school, St. Gregory’s Primary School, and Harry have managed to sneak out of the playground, hopping over the fence both to explore and to get away from his cousin.

It was easy for young Harry to do so. Being small for his age, Harry was able to crawl into places that others cannot reach or generally overlook. In general, Harry was always being overlooked. He always wore clothes that were two sizes too big for him, all second-hand from his cousin of course, and his green eyes were hidden behind round glasses that were big on his head. He was teased for this when people noticed him, but mostly they left him alone. Which he was fine with.

Really.

Sure, there were times where Harry was lonely and wished that he had a friend. The kids at school avoid him because everyone knows that he’s his cousin Dudley’s punching bag. And anyone who tried to even talk with Harry would quickly earn Dudley and his friends’ wrath, so no one even tries. Besides, bullying Harry is so much more fun than getting bullied with Harry.

So here he was, alone, with no friends, wandering the small field around his school. He didn’t mind it really. Harry was lonely, yeah, he desperately wanted a friend, but being alone was better than being chased by Dudley and his friends.

With a heavy sigh, he fell on his back and just stared upwards, watching the clouds peacefully drift on by across the light-blue sky, oblivious to the troubles that went on in the young boy’s mind. Harry found his mind slowing along with the clouds, humming strangely contently as he lost track of time. Nobody bothered him, nobody really looked for him. Before Harry knew it, he heard his teacher calling for them to come inside. He did not really want to leave, too relaxed and content in his spot, but he knew that if he didn’t go, then that would only lead to more trouble. “I really don’t wanna,” Harry groaned as he pushed himself to his feet.

He dusted off his pants and turned to look at the field. It was quiet, very quiet, and peaceful with grass that came to his ankles. He hummed to himself and turned to leave.

Rustle, Rustle.

Harry stopped and turned swiftly. “Hello? Anyone there?” he asked. The sounds he heard stopped immediately and he squinted his eyes, doing his best to try and see what was making the sound. All he could see was the green grass. He frowned and crossed his arms, “Weird,” he muttered.

“POTTER! WHERE ARE YOU!?”

Harry jumped at the voice and turned quickly, running back to the fence, “Coming Mrs. Thorn!” he yelled, climbing the fence just as easily, as though the fence was really moving by itself. He landed back in the playground and ran, oblivious to the red eyes that followed him.

The rest of the day went by rather boring for Harry. He just sat in the back of his class, pushing his broken glasses, held only by tape, up to his face every now and again when it started to slip off. He really wanted to just be out of school. Not home, Harry hated being there, but rather outside where he’s not at school or his cousin’s house. He could barely pay attention really. He sat in the back of the classroom, Mrs. Thorn refusing to let him sit closer to the board, so he was stuck between two of Dudley’s friends: Piers and Gordon. The two were the worst, they kept throwing paper and whatever they could get at Harry, sometimes even throwing pictures with rude things at him. They would also steal his notebooks and draw horrible things as well, things that made Harry go cold even thinking about.

However, the strangest part of the rest of the day was that Harry felt like he was being watched. It wasn’t a strange feeling. It didn’t feel like someone was glaring at him or staring at him as though they were planning on giving him a wedgie, those kinds of looks tended to cause an itch on the back of his neck. This was different, a strange different that Harry did not even know how to feel about. He looked around his class to see that nobody was looking at him, not even Piers and Gordon strangely enough. His eyes drifted towards the window, again seeing nothing out of the ordinary. So he just went on with his day, doing his best to ignore the strange feeling.

The second the bell rang for dismissal, Harry ran out. He has only gotten to the school’s gate before he was suddenly jerked back and fell on his butt. “What’s wrong cousin? Don’t want to play?” a voice asked mockingly.

Harry looked up to see, much to his displeasure, his cousin Dudley Dursley looking down at him. Dudley was a fat kid with short hair and a rotten attitude. His friends were on either side of him, all looking down at Harry with similar looks. “Come on Harry, I want to play Harry Chase.” He raised his fist to punch Harry, but the smaller boy moved on instinct. He rolled to his feet and ran away as fast as he could. “Get him!” Dudley yelled, his friends all whooping and screaming with glee as they all chased Harry. It was their favorite pastime. They all could hurt Harry easily and did whenever they cornered him, but Harry was always faster than them. He ran around the school and jumped the fence, feeling shocked that he was able to jump over the huge fence in one leap. He ran across the field and looked back over his shoulder. He could see Dudley and his gang struggling to get over the fence and kept on running. He did not stop until he was long gone from school, heading towards the house where he lives, Number 4 Privet Drive. He still felt like he was being looked at but pushed that feeling away.

Harry only stopped when he reached the front door and looked around. Dudley was nowhere to be seen, however, there was something that he never saw before. Across the street staring straight at him was a boy he never saw before. The boy looked to be a couple of years older than him with pale, smooth skin, neat black hair, and, strangest of all, red eyes. The boy stared at Harry unemotionally and unblinking. Harry was caught in his gaze, just standing on the doorstep of his house as he stared back at the boy. He wanted to go to him, to introduce himself and ask all about him. It’ll be pointless, Dudley will just tell him how much of a freak I am and he’ll never be friends with me, he thought miserably. But still, the want to go to him was there, and never went away.

“Harry! There you are!”

Harry was snapped out of whatever gaze he was in and looked around. Dudley was barreling after him, smirking at Harry as he grabbed the boy and threw him with all of his strength off of the doorsteps, into the rosebushes on the sides of the house. Dudley laughed as Harry screamed in pain and shock, tumbling, and rolling out, his clothes getting messier in the process. He stumbled to his feet just as Dudley walked into the house, slamming the door after him. Harry’s eyes immediately went to across the street only to find that the strange boy was gone! He felt disappointed but shook his head. He might as well just go inside.

“You’re late boy,” was how Uncle Vernon greeted him.

“I’m sorry Uncle Vernon,” Harry said meekly as the shadow of Uncle Vernon fell over him. He was a large man with a walrus mustache and thick fingers. Harry yelped when a sudden sting of pain slapped his cheeks. His eyes watered from the slap, but he continued to stand. “Go outside and do your chores, boy, before I take away your dinner,” Uncle Vernon said.

“Yes Uncle Vernon,” Harry answered. Uncle Vernon gave him another slap, just for good measure, and returned to the living room. Harry turned around and walked outside. He bent in front of the flowerbed and started weeding it, pulling out anything “wild” that his Aunt Petunia does not want in her garden. In Harry’s opinion, it was a rather boring garden, Aunt Petunia only grew ordinary flowers in plainly ordinary flowers. Sometimes weeds popped up, as well as mixed flowers that Aunt Petunia hated with a passion. So she had Harry go out every day and make sure that nothing undesirable was growing.

It was hard work for Harry. The Dursleys refuse to give him gloves for this, so he regularly got cuts on his hands, which only got him into more trouble for “bleeding on your aunt’s lovely flowers” earning him either no dinner or more slaps from his uncle. Miraculously, however, all of his cuts would disappear by the next day, and his hands would be as smooth as ever. He was pulling a particularly good looking flower that was a mixture of purple and yellow when movement caused him to stop.

Red eyes were staring at Harry, and Harry stared back, his hand frozen mid-pull as he followed the eyes and saw the body that was connected to them. It was a snake, a rather large snake, with dark green scales. Harry and the snake continued to stare at each other, his arm starting to hurt a little for holding the pose for so long. Then, surprisingly, the snake talked.

“To think that Potter would so easy to find.”

“I’m sorry, you know my name?” Harry asked. He pulled the flower out and quickly dropped it, turning his full attention to the snake. “My name is Harry; how did you learn my last name?”

The snake blinked at Harry, as though surprised that he even talked back to him. “Interesting,” the snake hissed. “Why wouldn’t I know your name, Harry Potter? After all you have done…”

“All I’ve done? I haven’t done anything!” Harry said, panicking. “I don’t know how I got onto the chimneys or how Mrs. Thorn’s wig turned blue! I swear!”

The snake turned his head to the side, “No you ignorant boy, do you know nothing about what you have done? What your parents have done? How they died?”

Harry frowned, “They died in a car crash, Uncle Vernon told me that they were both drunk with me in the car.”

“A car crash! That they would lie as such! To you of all people, what is that old man thinking?” the snake muttered. Harry frowned. He fell so he was laying on his stomach, his feet kicked up into the air as he rested his head on his hands.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about Mr. Snake,” he said.

“Mr. Snake—the nerve. Boy, you do not know whose presence you’re in? I am Lord Voldemort!” the snake proclaimed. Harry stared at the snake for a moment confused.

His cheeks tinted red and he said embarrassed, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are Lord Voldemort. But it’s nice to meet you.”

“BOY! STOP LOAFING AROUND AND DO SOME WORK!” Uncle Vernon’s voice yelled through the walls. Harry flinched and gave out a small fearful noise. The snake named Voldemort looked at Harry for a moment then back at the house before turning to Harry, slithering closer.

“To think that a wizard would be fearful of a muggle,” Voldemort muttered, “Is that a handprint on your cheek?”

“I’m—I’m sorry, I have to go,” Harry said suddenly, sniffling. “I—I have to—”

“You will do no such thing, not yet, Harry,” Voldemort said. He stared at Harry, as though the snake was figuring something important out. “To think that the old fool would send him here of all places to be abused and ignorant.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said again, getting the snake’s attention.

“You will never apologize to me, Harry. Never apologize for what muggles have done,” the snake said.

Harry did not know what muggles were, but he did not want to anger the snake, so he just nodded. He glanced at the house, then back at the snake. “Okay, I won’t, but I need to go now, or I won’t get any dinner again.”

“Again? What do you mean by that Potter?”

Harry squirmed uncomfortably. He looked around, as though to make sure nobody was listening in, before leaning towards Voldemort. “Please promise me that you won’t tell anyone,” he said, sounding completely afraid. The snake nodded and Harry said, “I hate it here. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always blame me for everything, even things that Dudley did! They would give me chores but nothing to do them with, and after I’m done they would lock me up in my ‘room’ which is just a cupboard under the stairs. There are a lot of times where they just send me with no dinner. And more times when they hit me.”

“That is completely unacceptable! To think that Dumbledore would allow this—it puts to shame anything I have done,” Voldemort muttered. “You do not deserve to live like this, Harry Potter. I may not be able to spirit you away now, I am too weak to do so, even my glamour to get your attention drained me more energy than what I have nowadays, but I will keep an eye on you, Harry. There are many things that you should know but do not. I will teach all of it to you.”

Harry only looked at the snake, deeply confused. “Wait so that means…” he looked over his shoulder, staring at the sidewalk on the other side of the road, and gasped, “you’re that boy I saw!”

Voldemort nodded. “I am indeed. Now go, I will watch you and take care of you young Harry.”

“Oh… okay,” Harry said. He looked hesitant but he smiled down at the snake. “I’m happy to have met you Lord Voldemort and thank you.”

The Dark Lord just nodded and watched the young Potter get up and run back into the dreadful house. This was not his plan, none of it actually. Ever since that Halloween six years ago, the Dark Lord has lost his body and power. Surviving only on the faintest remains of his magic. He was less than a wraith and has spent five years wandering aimlessly, barely conscious of the world around him. His power returned marginally, he was far from his full power, what he had now was laughable, but it was enough for Voldemort to be aware of his surroundings and develop a form for he can travel. It was tiresome work, he felt constantly tired and still had to turn back into the misty wraith that he has been for five years, but at least now he was aware, now he could plan.

Seeing Potter so vulnerable in that muggle school was a lucky coincidence. An easy target for Voldemort to kill, once and for all, but just like a snake he wanted to observe, to play with his prey. So he watched the boy all day as he lounged in the fields. Then he returned to school and, much to Voldemort’s amazement, the boy seemed to already have a control over his accidental magic! Climbing and jumping over the fence so easily, as if it was barely a thought. Surely, Voldemort thought, Potter must live in some guarded place, trained, and protected by the strongest of wizards who were foolish enough to oppose him.

However, that seemed to be furthest from the truth. He continued to watch Potter and was shocked to see the boy bullied by common muggles, fearing these muggles even, and running away instead of fighting back as Voldemort assumed from the blasted boy. But no, he ran and only suffered more. First, from that pig, he called a cousin, and then from that walrus of a man he was forced to call his uncle. There were no trainers, no guards teaching and serving Harry Potter, only abuse, and the heavy melancholy radiating from the cupboard. Voldemort watched helplessly as an invisible mist as the muggles continued to hurt Potter. Slapping and kicking the child for any inconvenience, making him cook their dinner, and throwing him away into the cupboard with only scraps to eat.

He was no prince lounging in silks, but a boy, hurt and alone in the dark. Voldemort floated towards him and watched as Potter cried himself to sleep, listening to every painful moan and unanswered plea for help. THIS was how the great Albus Dumbledore treated the wizarding world’s savor? Leaving him in an unloved home with muggles? Not telling him even a hint of who the boy truly is, or how his parents died?

Completely unacceptable, Voldemort thought. He came here to kill his adversary but saw that the muggles would do his job for him. He should be happy with that, relieved that he did not need to do a thing in his weakened state, however for some strange reason he could not. As he listened to the boy earlier that day, and now as he watched him sleep, Voldemort could not deny what he sensed in the boy. There was a darkness there, small, and untamed but growing every day as his hatred for his muggles grew. A darkness that would lead to powerful things if he had the right mentor.

Voldemort chuckled as his plan started to form in his mind. He stared at Harry and watched him for a moment. “Albus, you old fool, look at what you have created,” he chuckled. “The Potter boy alone and unloved, but do not worry, I will take good care of the boy. You won’t ever have a lonely day anymore Harry… for now, you are mine.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

A New World

The Dark Lord watched over Harry for the following week. He did not tell him about the Wizarding World yet; he did not figure out how, instead he simply observed and listened, and doing, so he has learned some interesting things.

The first was Harry’s hatred for the muggles around him. It was a delicious hatred smoldering behind the boy’s innocent eyes. And the muggles kept feeding it. Every hit, every insult, every single second of neglect as they dote on that muggle boy instead of this young powerful wizard, for even now Voldemort could feel the magical power radiating from the boy. He could not wait to take Harry’s hatred, to mold it into something beautiful, something powerful, but first, the boy needed to trust him, which was an easy enough task in itself. Dumbledore left him alone and ignorant. The people in Harry’s life hate him. Voldemort, by contrast, was a shining beacon compared to the rest of young Harry’s life. He wasn’t the entirely heartless monster Dumbledore and the damnable Light thought him as he knew love, it was just a small matter in Voldemort’s opinion. One that only brought regret and agony, in no small thanks to Albus Dumbledore. But it wasn’t productive to think about him right now. After all, now he has Harry, all of his power, his influence, and time should be spent making sure that Harry’s life improves.

The second and most obvious thing that interested Voldemort was that Harry spoke Parseltongue. And rather naturally at that, as though he did not realize it. He wondered how that was possible. Only Slytherin’s descendants could speak the sacred tongue, and Voldemort knew that Potter did not have a drop of Slytherin’s blood in his veins. And yet, the boy spoke to snakes as though he was speaking to any other wizard. How that could be, Voldemort did not personally know however he was eager to find out. But in the meantime, he would simply be there for Harry. He followed the boy wherever he went, always the invisible specter, until he had enough power to appear as the snake whenever Harry was alone. Sometimes that would be outside, but most times it would be in Harry’s cupboard, where Voldemort would coil himself either to the side of Harry or on top of his chest. The little boy did not mind either.

“Voldemort? Why do you only appear as a snake?” Harry asked. It was Saturday, and he was locked to the cupboard for the entire day because Dudley blamed him for a broken Atari 7800, a muggle machine that played strange things that Voldemort did not even care to understand. According to Harry, Dudley and one of his friends were playing with the damn thing but then gotten angry and, in a fit of rage, destroyed the machine which they then blamed Harry for. So now he was locked in the cupboard until Sunday night to “learn his lesson.”

“It takes less magic to appear as such, Harry,” Voldemort answered. He thought now, with the two alone for a long time, his plan should begin.

“Magic?” Harry repeated. “What do you mean? Uncle Vernon told me there’s no such thing as Magic, Voldemort.”

Voldemort was prepared for that. Being raised by filthy muggles, he had a feeling that the boy would know nothing about who he is or the world that he is from and properly belongs. That much was certain when he said that his parents were killed by a car crash, instead of the Dark Lord who was currently keeping him company.

“Magic is very much real Harry,” Voldemort began. “You will learn very quickly that you should not concern yourself over the opinions or facts that muggles give, especially your uncle.” Harry nodded silently. He reached out towards Voldemort and just gently combed his fingers down the snake’s body, the cold scales feeling good to his touch. “You and I are wizards, Harry. I am not a snake, as you might have noticed, but an extremely powerful wizard who has lost his body years ago.”

“What happened?” Harry asked curiously.

“I was given information that I thought would have caused my death, so I went out to try and put a stop to it. In the wizarding world, Harry, there are many who would oppose me,” Voldemort said.

Harry gave a small gasp. “But why? You’ve been nothing but nice to me! Why would people hate you?”

“I am called the Dark Lord for a reason,” Voldemort chuckled, amused at how innocent young Harry was. “I’ve experimented into the Darker Arts, magic that others would deem unacceptable. They are the reason why we are speaking right now.”

“They’re why you’re here?” Harry asked. He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Then I think they’re wrong. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, Voldemort! Ohh or do you want me to call you by Dark Lord?”

“Voldemort is fine, but only you can call me that.”

“Okay, then Voldemort you’ve been the best thing that has ever happened to me! The time we’ve been together has been the best ever. You make me not feel lonely,” Harry admitted.

Voldemort felt something swell inside him, a feeling he did not feel for a long time. He pushed it away and stared at Harry. He was so trusting, so touch and love-starved that he would instantly latch onto him of all people. These muggles have treated him lesser than dirt, a slave in the making they believe are beneath them, and Dumbledore continued to allow this through his negligence. He has heard how interested Dumbledore has been in the Potter’s affair, his spy has told him so, but to leave the boy with these muggles, as though putting a toy or weapon away? Well, Dumbledore cannot complain if someone else picks Harry up and treats him better, now can he? “It was horrible, what happened to you, Harry. Left with these muggles who abuse you instead of being raised knowing who you are. I only wish I was stronger so that I could do to the muggles tenfold what they have done to you.”

“Voldemort, you don’t need to—”

“It is disgusting how they treat you. Look at this! Locked away in a cupboard because of others’ actions,” Voldemort seethed. “Surely you must be angry?”

“I am! But I can’t do anything,” Harry frowned. “I try to do what they say and they hit me! I try to be quiet, to be out of their way but still Uncle Vernon slaps me! Punches me—Dudley still chases and beats me up! I can’t stop it Voldemort! I want to, oh my god I want to but I can’t!” Hot tears pooled in Harry’s eyes they flowed down his cheeks and side of his face, but he didn’t move to wipe them away. He just stared at Voldemort, angry and frustrated that he can’t do anything.

The snake let out a soft sigh. “I am sorry Harry. I cannot do enough, but that does not mean I will not try. I will use every iota of magic I have to protect you; however, I want something in return.”

“What is it?”

“Let me be your Mentor. I shall teach you, feed you, dress you and keep you,” Voldemort said. “I will prepare you for your future, both the wizarding school Hogwarts and beyond, teaching you what the Ministry deems appropriate, and more importantly what they keep too dangerous for others to handle. Not because they are dangerous, but because they are too scared to learn, held back by a need for control. So they punish others.”

“Just like how Uncle Vernon punish me?” Harry asked.

“Yes Harry, that is a good comparison,” Voldemort said. “But that is later on. What do you say, Harry?”

“Yes! I mean, yes. I want you to teach me Voldemort, please,” Harry said.

“Then my first lesson is for you to sleep. You must conserve your strength Harry, do not worry. I will watch over you,” Voldemort whispered, and Harry found his eyes growing heavy. He dozed off, struggling to keep them open until, finally, he fell asleep with the snake on his chest.

Voldemort watched him for a few moments before deciding to rest himself, needing to conserve as much of his energy as he had left. There were many things to teach Harry, and many difficult truths he needed to explain, but he was confident that he and his young apprentice would work through them all.

One of the first lessons Harry needed to learn was how to defend himself, Voldemort decided. He was stuck as an invisible wraith, floating around, and following his Harry throughout his day as he watched the young Potter run from his cousin and his gang. Out of all of them, Voldemort has found that the one called Piers was the most despicable. It was clear that the one named Dudley was the leader of this gang, however, Piers was the one leading everyone on, encouraging them to keep chasing Harry. “Come on! He’s slowing down keep running! We’re going to get you, Potter! Just you wait!”

But his young apprentice was just too smart and too quick. He was able to outrun them most of the time, using alleyways whenever he could, jumping over fences, and running through backyards until he was “safe” back at Privet Drive, or at least safe from the gang. Voldemort did wonder why it was that they did not just attack Harry when he was at the muggle home, it would be easy as he was too distracted with the endless list of chores. In the end, he figured that it would not have had any fun value, which disturbed the Dark Lord. True he had his own fun, torturing and murdering his opponents; however, he has never chased them or taunted them. Those were for the lesser beings who needed to prove their superiority by stupid means. No. The Dark Lord had standards and met his enemies with expectations. If they were cowards, they would pay for their cowardliness. If they tried to stand up against him, however, he would reward them with a quick death after he had what he wanted. The Potters were courageous. They both stood against him, and so when he came to their house on that Halloween Night, he has granted them a swift, painless death. Does he regret it? No. However, he was certain that he almost knew how he was going to explain his involvement in the Potter’s tragedy.

“Uh oh, Potter, dead-end,” Piers snickered gleefully. It was true, somehow in the confusion of jumping over fences and running into alleyways, Harry found himself back into the main city, away from the suburbs where his school and home were, and in the unfamiliar territory, he turned without thinking and ran into a dead-end alleyway, with Piers, Dudley, Gordon, Malcolm, and Dennis blocking the way. Each one looking big and stupid except for Piers, who was skinny and had a rat face.

Harry did his best to stand up towards them, putting on a brave persona as he raised his fists. Voldemort felt a small twinge of pride as he watched his hopeless apprentice. He wished that he could have helped more, however, he was still so weak, too weak to be helpful. Still, as he saw Dudley and his gang run towards Harry, a strange protectiveness he did not felt for almost half a century took over the Dark Lord and he flew towards them, phasing through Dudley Dursley to stay between Harry and the gang of brutish muggles. Dudley stopped, the others charging ahead, and he leaned against the wall. The fat boy gagged and coughed before spilled his lunch all over the wall and pavement. “Guys stop, I don’t feel so good,” he said, throwing up again.

Voldemort was impressed in himself. He did not know that would happen, and he watched as most of the gang stopped. Except for Piers. “Come on! He’s right here!” the rat-boy said, swinging the first punch. Harry gritted his teeth and stood his ground. “Come on! Dennis! Malcolm! One good swing at him! He’s still standing!” He swung another punch, hitting Harry in the same place. Harry swung his own fist but Piers moved out of the way and kicked Harry right between his legs. Harry crumbled, groaning in pain, and Piers began his onslaught. “You’re—missing—the—fun—look—Potter—is—here—for—the—taking!” Piers grunted between punches. Harry curled into himself, moving his hands to protect his head.

Voldemort immediately flew towards Piers, phasing through him as always, and turned, waiting for him to get sick and stop. But Piers didn’t stop. He coughed and gagged but kept on hitting Harry. Dudley and his friends were leaving, some giving Piers a glance, but the small boy did not notice or care. He pushed Harry’s hand away and grabbed his hair, pulling the boy up roughly. “You know Potter, my big bro’s teaching me how to box. Street boxing too, not that official crap. Wanna see what I’ve learned?” He gave Harry a sadistic grin. Voldemort once again tried to fly through the muggle boy.

This time, Piers did throw up, however, he did not let go of Harry. He just threw up on Harry’s shirt and laughed. “Have fun walking home Harry,” he grinned and left the boy in the alleyway.

Harry just curled around himself. His stomach was bruised, as well as his arms and legs. He was grateful that Piers did not hit his face at all, but still, everything throbbed in pain. He cried. Openly and loudly, not caring that his shirt had sick on it. He was mumbling to himself as he cried, and Voldemort had to hover in close to hear what his apprentice said.

“I’m sorry Voldemort, I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough… please don’t leave me…”

Leave him!? The Dark Lord would never leave his apprentice! With all of his remaining strength, Voldemort floated towards Harry’s ear and said, “I am always with you Harry. I cannot do much, but I will protect you. I did not expect that boy to stay when he was sick.”

“Voldemort?” Harry asked, his breath hitching.

“Yes Harry, I am here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize. You will get stronger Harry, I will teach you everything,” Voldemort promised, speaking almost soothingly.

“Okay,” Harry nodded. “Lord Voldemort? Magic… can it be used to hurt people?”

“Yes, there are many spells that can hurt Harry, both intentionally and unintentionally,” Voldemort answered.

“What about kill?” Harry asked in a small voice.

Voldemort hesitated, staring at the child as he wondered what it was that he was thinking. “Yes, you can kill with magic,” he answered.

“Good… good,” Harry said, and he left it at that. He stood up slowly and looked down at his shirt, frowning. “Aunt Petunia will hit me for this,” he said emotionlessly. “And Uncle Vernon will hit me for being late.”

“Then tonight we will begin your training, Harry. Nothing strenuous, I just want you to reach into yourself, feel the magic that is burning inside you,” Voldemort instructed. “It will be difficult, but it will be the first step into controlling your accidental magic, at least until you get a wand and attend Hogwarts.”

“Will you tell me more about it? Hogwarts?” Harry asked.

“Of course, my young apprentice,” Voldemort answered. “We both need each other for survival. As long as you are my responsibility, I will never lie to you. However, I will not be able to be with you until later tonight. I must rest, I find myself physically drained from phasing through the muggles.

“Okay, you don’t have to worry,” Harry said softly. “I can handle myself.”

“Of course. I will be in that excuse the muggles call your room,” Voldemort said. He floated away, leaving his young Harry to get home by his lonesome. He knew that the boy would, he was not lying when he said he could take care of himself, however, the Dark Lord knew that there were many areas where Harry did not know what to do. But it did not matter, for now, he was there to take care of the child, and he will never let Harry fall from his grasp.

As promised, Harry found Voldemort as a snake resting on his bed. Harry did his best not to disturb his mentor, knowing that he needed a lot of rest. He got into his bed and carefully situated himself so that he was sitting in front of Voldemort, watching him sleep. Harry was happy to have his company, as a wraith or a snake, however, he would not be lying if he said that he did not miss the boy. However he knew that it took much more energy out of his Lord Voldemort, so Harry would be patient.

“You do not need to watch me,” an annoyed voice hissed. Harry grinned as he saw Voldemort stir in his bed. The snake lifted his head to meet with Harry’s eye level.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you looked so peaceful. I did not want to wake you up,” Harry said. Voldemort just grunted as much as a snake could grunt and stared at him for a moment.

“Even now, I can feel your magic, Harry. It is strong. Raw. Powerful and wild, waiting for you to use it.” Voldemort said. “However, we must work to feel it. You are too young to control it normally, and you do not have a wand.”

“A wand? I’m going to get a wand?” Harry asked, excitement slowly bubbling inside him.

“Yes, but not until you are eleven when you must go to Hogwarts,” Voldemort answered. “But that does not mean that you cannot control the magic inside you. For now, I just want you to reach into yourself, try to find the magic inside, and concentrate on it.”

“How do I do that?” Harry frowned.

“Just close your eyes Harry and concentrate. Feel yourself, truly, hasn’t there ever been things you cannot explain? Peculiar events that seemed to elude reason? That is your magic reaching out, accidental magic that you can control,” Voldemort said. Harry nodded and closed his eyes. He reached out and started to pet Voldemort’s scales out of habit and focused on that, on the calming sensation of the scales against his fingertips as he tried to do as he was told.

It was strange for the seven-year-old to try and be introspective. However, the cupboard got a strange silence. He could no longer hear the television in the living room, or any of the Dursleys. It was as though he was locked away from the rest of the world, Voldemort’s voice filling the void and his brushing giving it form. He gave a small sigh, and a rare smile curled around his lips. He could feel his heartbeat, which astonished young Harry! It was very strange whenever he noticed his heart rate, he could only do it rarely. But there was something else, a pulsing that was not his heart rate yet still matched its beat. He did not know why, but Harry was drawn to it. He wanted to get closer to this strange beat, to reach out and touch it.

His chest started to feel warm, a pleasant warmth as though he was wrapped in a very thick blanket on a cold winter’s night. The warmth spread, tingling everywhere it went until he could feel his toes and fingers tingle and prickle. Through the darkness of his closed eyes, he thought he could see a color. Or, well, multiple colors. A brilliant hue of greens and reds and blues colliding into one another, swirling endlessly around a dark purple-blackish core. It looked as though it would be cold, but as it has gotten close to Harry, the warm feeling only grew and he felt something else, a sense of safety. He was safe in this strange collection of colors.

His smile grew, and Voldemort’s voice hissed into him, wrapping around his consciousness. “That’s it, Harry! I can feel it now, you are powerful, so powerful. Your magic is beautiful. Open your eyes, and see what I see…”

Harry opened his eyes and gasped. Floating above them both was a ball of light that was changing colors. It was small, about the size of Harry’s fist, but still, it shone brightly changing from yellow to red to green to purple to violent and back again, mixing with greens and browns and every other color that Harry can imagine. He smiled brilliantly at the ball of light. “Look! I made that!” Harry said with pride.

“That you did, good job Harry,” Voldemort said, staring at the orb of light. “Though it is small, this is a sign of how powerful you can be. Keep at it Harry, and nobody will hurt you. Not now, not at Hogwarts, and not ever again.”

Harry stared at the orb, smiling. He then looked down at Voldemort and a question popped into his mind. “Can you tell me about it? Hogwarts? And maybe why I’m here instead of there?”

“Of course, consider it a bedtime story and a reward or reaching your magic the first time you’ve tried,” Voldemort chuckled. The two moved so that Harry was laying down on his old mattress with Voldemort coiled around on his body. He still felt the warmth from his magic, tingling excitedly as he did his best to get comfortable. “Hogwarts is a school for witchcraft and wizardry. You will be going there when you turn eleven, so four years from now. There is no primary school for witches and wizards, you see, why that is I do not know, it certainly would be useful. But never mind that. I went to Hogwarts, as did all witches and wizards of England, Scotland, and Ireland. We are a small, but powerful community as you can guess. Some, like you and I, have come from long and powerful lines of witches and wizards. The Potter Family has been involved in many things, going as far back as the middle ages. Meanwhile, my descendants come from the great Salazar Slytherin, one of the four founders of Hogwarts. I was naturally sorted into his House when I’ve gone to Hogwarts.”

“House?”

“Students are separated into different Houses, you see, there are four, one for each founder. I have been in Slytherin, just as you will, Harry.”

“Ohh, I hope I’m in Slytherin too,” Harry smiled.

“Yes, but it isn’t all fairytale, you see. I have told you; I am the Dark Lord. The villain to many, who just the thought or utterance of my name will send fear down their bones. They call me ‘You-Know-Who’ or ‘He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.’” He gave a dark chuckle. “It is a little funny the lengths they go to avoid things that frighten them. But there was one man who was not afraid of me, who stood up against me everywhere I turned. Albus Dumbledore.”

“You said his name before!” Harry gasped. “When I met you.”

“You remember that? Good job Harry, I’m impressed with your memory.” Harry smiled and blushed slightly at the praise. “Yes, Albus Dumbledore,” Voldemort continued. “He will always be a thorn on my side… he is also the reason why you are here.”

“What do you mean?” Harry frowned.

“Dumbledore is the Headmaster of Hogwarts; he was also the leader of a group that opposed me. Your mother and father were actually a part of his group, swayed to his side with a pack of lies,” Voldemort said.

Harry gasped, “You mean you fought my parents? But you’re so nice and helpful!”

“I am nice and helpful only to you Harry, you are my apprentice, and I am in a very awkward spot in regards to my power. I will be needing your help, I fear, in getting my body back,” Voldemort explained, “but yes, your parents and I have fought before, three times in fact, and three times they have eluded me.”

Harry frowned at that. He looked at the snake he was petting and stopped. A cold chill went down his spine and he found himself asking a question he was afraid to know the answer to. “How did my parents die? Really. Did you… did you?”

“Yes,” Voldemort answered softly. Harry let out a small whimper, his hand moving away from Voldemort. He had half a thought to push the snake away but stopped himself.

“Why?”

“Because of what I knew, or thought I knew,” Voldemort said. “I had a spy who was following Dumbledore. From what I remember, he had an interview. For some reason, he held it in a pub called the Hog’s Head instead of in Hogwarts itself. He was interviewing a person for Divination, and during the interview, the interviewee told a prophecy, a true prophecy. I do not know if it was the whole prophecy or not, but from what I remembered, it was about my doom. A child born at the end of July destined to have the power capable to defeat me. I was scared, naturally, and decided to take action against it. At least, I believe I have. I sent some of my followers to one family while I personally visited the Potters. Your mother and father fought bravely to protect you, and through their sacrifice, I appear before you as I am. That scar on your forehead, that is because of me.”

“You tried to kill me,” Harry whispered.

“Yes, I tried, and I will not apologize,” Voldemort said, “however the more I think about the whole thing, the uglier it seems. Why was it that Dumbledore had the interview in Hog’s Head instead of Hogwarts? Has my spy heard the whole prophecy or only a part of it? And more importantly, why is it Harry, that you were sent here by Dumbledore himself, to be forgotten about?”

“I don’t understand,” Harry frowned, “You killed my parents, didn’t you?”

“That I did, however, I am merely wondering if it was by my own actions, or if Dumbledore had a hand in it,” Voldemort said.

“You mean Dumbledore is the reason my mummy and daddy are dead? I’m confused,” Harry said. The ball of light above them turned a deep red before disappearing entirely.

“Possibly, I cannot say for sure. There is too much that I do not know at the moment,” Voldemort answered.

Harry just hummed and stared at Voldemort for a moment. His mind was working overtime trying to process everything he was just told. Voldemort killed his parents, but it might have been because of this Dumbledore person? Why would Dumbledore want to have his parents killed? They were his parents! They were supposed to be nice and good and loving! Now he was stuck with the Dursleys who were anything but that. And Dumbledore is the reason why Voldemort was the way he is, with no body at all and having to use magic to form one. He wanted to hate Voldemort, and maybe he did a little, but Harry found that most of his hatred is going to this person that he did not even meet before.

“I hate him.”

“Hmm?”

“Dumbledore,” Harry clarified. “I hate him.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Power Sharing

Harry felt like his world has changed dramatically. And why shouldn’t it be? It was only a week since he tapped into his magic and felt the warm rush of it, and now he couldn’t help but see things differently. It wasn’t a drastic change. His living situation was just the same, the muggles in his life were always horrible, however at night or whenever he was alone, Harry found himself being comforted by Lord Voldemort and his seemingly infinite knowledge on magic.

Every night Harry was tasked to reach for his magic, and every night he was awarded for his effort with one question. Harry found it hard at first, but he found that every night he did it, it was slowly becoming easier. “Can you tell me more about Hogwarts?” Harry asked on the seventh night of his practice.

“What do you want to know, little one?” Voldemort hissed, sitting contently on Harry’s chest.

Harry thought for a moment, “You told me a little about Slytherin, but I want to know more about that House, and the others as well!”

“Of course,” Voldemort chuckled. “Let’s see…It is the greatest of the four Houses. There are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Each named after a founder of Hogwarts. Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin. The houses all represent the traits that each Founder valued the most. For Gryffindor, it was the courageous and brave, the chivalrous wizards who would always go out to save someone. Ravenclaw valued intelligence, wit, and cleverness along with creativity. For Hufflepuff, loyalty, and patience, that house was opened to all. Slytherin, however, valued ambition and cunningness. He wanted those who were clear leaders and most of all resourceful. … However, there was another requirement for Slytherin. Blood purity.”

“Blood purity?”

Voldemort nodded. “Slytherin hated Muggleborns—witches, and wizards with muggle parents. He much preferred that Hogwarts only taught those who are Purebloods, children whose ancestry is entirely magical. Half-bloods, those with muggle relatives on one side of the family, and muggleborns were completely unworthy in his eyes. Humorous then, that his current descendant and heir is a Half-blood.” Voldemort stared at Harry knowingly, and Harry just nodded.

“What am I?” he asked curiously.

“To me, it does not matter. Power is power. My followers believed in blood purity, however, and I allowed them to play their games. It kept them useful. If you really want to know, Harry, you are just like me. A Half-Blood. Your father is from the long Potter family, and your mother was a muggleborn, and one of the bravest women I have ever fought,” Voldemort answered truthfully.

“Ohh,” Harry hissed, he felt a little awkward as he remembered that, yes, his savior and mentor killed his parents. Even if it was not fully Voldemort’s fault. He pushed the thought away and shook his head, “How do you choose which House you get into? How will I get into Slytherin?”

“There is a sorting hat,” Voldemort answered. He paused, as though catching his breath. “When you arrive at Hogwarts, you along with the rest of the first years shall all be sorted before the opening feast before the entire school. One by one you’ll be sorted, some it takes minutes while others, it is instantaneous. For me, it was almost immediately.”

Harry nodded and smiled as he petted Voldemort’s scales. “I’ll be in Slytherin, even if I have to bully the hat into putting me there,” he said.

Voldemort chuckled. “My apprentice, if you keep on like this, you will be sorted even before the hat touches a single hair on your head.” That reassured Harry and he felt himself falling asleep soon afterward. Voldemort watched him, content in staying in this form until he was forced to turn back into a wraith and rest his energy.

The next day, Harry was caught by Dudley’s gang once more. It was a rainy day, and Harry hoped that the rain would deter his pursuers, but it only seemed to invigorate them as they chased Harry down sidewalks, over fences, and across lawns. Harry thought that they would stop if he reached the Dursleys’ home first, however they did not. Piers and Gordon grabbed Harry by his arms and dragged him to the back of the house where there was a small backyard with a single tree as Dudley went inside. They threw him roughly against the tree and laughed.

“That was fun,” Dudley said walking back out. He was holding a long knobby stick. “Guys look at this! It’s my dad’s old Smelting stick!”

“Cool! How about we give Potter a few whacks with it?” Piers grinned.

“That’s what I was thinking, moron,” Dudley said. “Look hold his arms.”

Gordon and Malcolm held Harry’s arms as he tried to struggle free. Dudley stepped in front of Harry and held the stick in both of his hands. “I saw those American baseball players swing it like this,” he grinned, and he pulled the stick back, waving it a couple of times, before swinging it hard against Harry’s side.

Harry cried out in pain, the bruise flaring as his body shuttered. The boys around him laughed as Dudley readied himself again. He swung even harder and Harry screamed just as a bolt of thunder arc through the air. “Home run!” Dudley cried out laughing.

The others laughed with him but Malcolm said confused, “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know it’s something those Americans say,” Dudley shrugged.

“Oh—ohh give the stick to me I want a turn,” Piers said. He grabbed the stick from Dudley, yanking it out of his grasp. Harry looked up at Piers and did not like the look he was giving Harry. It reminded Harry of Aunt Marge’s dogs whenever they saw a tasty piece of meat or him. “This is going to hurt Potter,” Piers grinned and he swung the cane. It hit Harry directly in his stomach and the boy tried to double over, coughing in pain, but Gordon and Malcolm kept him against the tree. His stomach hurt. Harry couldn’t even begin to describe it, it felt like the fat top of the Smelting Stick was pressed through him with large branches sprouting all around. Piers immediately swung back and hit Harry again, and again.

Harry’s skin was soon drenched from both the rainfall and his own sweat and tears. Gordon and Malcolm have both let him go after the third hit and just stepped back as Harry curled around himself, crying as he begged mentally for Voldemort. Please stop them I need your help. It hurts please come help me.

But help never came. Piers continued to hit Harry. The laughter around him died out nervously. The rain continued on and Dudley looked around at the others. “Let’s go, this is boring,” he said.

“No, I’m having fun,” Piers said, “One more hit right against his head!” He pulled back the furthest, twisting his body around as ready to smash the cane into Harry the hardest he could. Harry just flinched and prepared himself, “No!” he said as Piers swung the stick.

There was a second of silence.

There was no pain at all. Then Harry heard the screams. He looked up to see the Smelting Stick split in two and his bullies screaming in pain. Harry blinked, confused about how they were in pain before he saw their arms. Long deep gashes tore across each boys’ arms, blood bleeding from the wounds. The group of bullies screamed, their pain only intensifying as rain fell on their open cuts. “What happened?” Gordon yelled.

“What’s going on? It hurts!”

“MUMMY!” Dudley screamed and the group all ran inside, leaving Harry forgotten. The boy just continued to stay where he was, staring transfixed at where the others were just moments ago. The grass was wet, but he could see that some were stained red. He couldn’t pull his eyes off of that. The redness of the grass that refused to be washed away from the rain. It was strangely reassuring. His body hurt, he could feel things that he knew he shouldn’t feel, but it did not matter strangely enough. He just smiled a small sick satisfaction going through him. He made them hurt. He made them cry. He knew it. That wasn’t Lord Voldemort saving him, that was entirely him. He was worried that Voldemort did not interfere, but he also couldn’t wait to tell him later that night!

His bruises went unspoken when he walked inside. Dudley and his friends were all crying over bowls of ice cream, their arms looking weird being covered by bandages. Nobody looked at Harry, they all acted like he did not exist at all, which Harry was happy with. Uncle Vernon yelled at him, of course, but for Harry breaking his Smelting Stick instead of Dudley and his friends’ wrapped up arms. Harry was sent to bed without dinner after Uncle Vernon smacked him. His cheeks stung with pain, but he didn’t care, now he could be with Voldemort!

His Mentor did not appear at once like he always did, nor was he waiting for Harry. Instead, Harry had to wait almost ten minutes before he saw a mist solidify in front of him, morphing into a snake. “Apologies, little one, it seems to have taken me longer to manifest today,” Voldemort said.

Harry smiled, “It’s okay! You have to listen to what happened!” He retold his story excitedly, vibrating slightly on his bed as he told it. When he was finished, he waited for Voldemort's approval.

“I am glad to see that your magic is acting defensively. It seems that you are becoming more aware of your power, and because of that you are performing accidental magic more often. Obviously, I am glad to see that you are mostly unharmed, however, I am even prouder to hear of the vengeance that you have dealt with to these horrible muggles. That said, I want you to rest… for I find myself tired. … Rest Harry, and let your body heal.” Voldemort said.

Harry felt a little disappointed that he wasn’t going to learn new magic, However, he knew that Voldemort was right. Now that he had a moment to rest, Harry could feel his body screaming in pain. He winced at every small movement he did and had a feeling that he will definitely bruise. But any bruises he’ll have, Harry would wear with pride. After all, he caused the others to bleed.

Before Harry knew it, a month has passed, and he couldn’t help but notice that his mentor seemed strange. It started taking Voldemort longer than usual to appear in front of him. In fact, there were times where Voldemort did not appear at all, only to tell Harry that he was too busy drawing and building up magic to appear. Harry was worried, but still, he couldn’t help but be excited over the new things he’d learned. Every night he practiced feeling his magic, making the orbs of light appeared, even the nights that Voldemort did not show up. It was getting even easier for Harry, so much so that he just needed to wave his finger in a circle and the orb of light would appear after a moment. He also learned that he wasn’t speaking English with Voldemort, but Parseltongue, the language of snakes! That was cool to learn, especially after the Dark Lord told him that only those connected to Slytherin could do it! And that there were only he and Voldemort who could speak it. It was another special thing that connected Harry to his savior.

Tonight, however, Harry only felt concerned as he stared at the snake sitting in front of him. Voldemort looked drained and constantly tired. His scales grayed, no longer a beautiful green and it took him longer to speak. “Harry… apologies. It seems that my magic… is taking longer… to replenish.”

“Are you going to be okay, Lord Voldemort?” Harry asked.

“I do not know, I must find a way to replenish my magic,” Voldemort offered truthfully.

Harry bit his lower lip in worry. “What will happen if you don’t?”

“I may be stuck as a wraith and forced to find other methods of survival,” Voldemort admitted, and Harry panicked. He would lose his Mentor!? No! He can’t have that! He refused.

Harry looked at Voldemort and thought. There had to be some way for Voldemort to get magic! Maybe his? Would that work? Would Harry be willing to give Voldemort his magic? Of course, he would. He wanted Voldemort to stay, no he needed it. Harry needed Voldemort. He did not want to be alone in his cupboard ever again. “Use mine.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lord Voldemort, please use my magic,” Harry said. “Please, I don’t want you to go away.”

Voldemort stared at Harry. “You would do that Harry?” Harry nodded confidently. Voldemort hissed pleasantly. “You are too kind to me, my little snake. Very well.”

“What do I need to do?”

“Just lay down and focus on your magic,” Voldemort ordered. Harry nodded and took off his glasses as he did his best to shimmy down on his mattress, careful not to hurt his Dark Lord as he did so. He closed his eyes and felt a small weight on his stomach and chest as Voldemort slithered onto him. Out of habit, Harry’s hand move to pet his scales as he took a breath and focused on his magic. He immediately felt its warm embrace and smiled. “That’s it, Harry, now pull at it. Drag your magic out of you and towards me. Let me share your power, little snake.”

Harry immediately began to do as he was told. He imaged wrapping his hands around the warm feeling and pulling, like a rope, away from him. The warm feeling grew, spreading around Harry’s body but still concentrating on his chest. He could feel something pull from him and then Voldemort started hissing out in a language he did not understand. A pressure started to build in Harry’s chest and his head started to hurt, the pain centering around the scar on his forehead. He whimpered in pain but kept focusing on pulling his magic. The pressure grew along with the pain. His legs jerked but he did his best to stay laying down. It felt weird. He was getting tired. He could feel his arms growing heavy, but he kept on pulling. Voldemort told him. Voldemort needed him. Harry wanted to help Voldemort.

Voldemort’s voice started to sound stronger. Harry felt that it was working, and he smiled. The weight on him started to feel heavier. His forehead throbbed painfully before dulling, and his magic rested, staying at a steady pressure that connected Harry to his Mentor. The mass laying on him began to grow as Voldemort continued to chant. His voice changed as well, the distinct hissing disappearing, becoming deeper, like an adult male’s, before pitching higher and higher. Harry wanted to open his eyes, to peak and see what was happening, but he still felt like he needed to focus on his magic. He could feel the pull on it slackening and he took that as his cue to return his magic. He felt the warm glow returning back to deep inside him, nestling in between his heart and stomach. “Open your eyes, Harry.”

Harry opened his eyes slowly and gave a gasp. There was a boy laying on him now. The boy looked to be around a couple of years older than Harry. He had dark brown hair and eyes with a handsome face. He was wearing very old-looking clothes that looked to be from before even Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon’s time! The boy was smiling at Harry before sitting up to examine his body. “Interesting,” he muttered. “Is this a glamour like my reflection of my Animagus form, or a second chance of youth?”

Harry stared at the boy for a moment before gasping, “Lord Voldemort?” he asked.

The boy chuckled, “Yes, little snake. It is me. However, I did not expect this to happen.” He continued to examine himself, feeling everywhere he could reach. “Your magic is delicious,” he purred. Harry blinked at him confused.

“It is?”

“Yes, and so much more powerful than I was thinking. I was planning on only taking a little, however, I feel that I took a little bit more, as well as felt something else,” Voldemort said. Harry continued to just stare at him as he did his best to fight back a yawn.  Voldemort sighed and moved so that they were both sharing the bed. Harry turned towards him and, out of habit wrapped an arm around his mentor before realizing what he was doing. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Voldemort shook his head and pulled Harry towards him. “Think of it as a reward little snake,” he muttered. “You’ve already done so much for me. I’m not sure how long I can hold this form, but I’m confident I can stay like this all night at least.” Harry nodded and smiled as he cuddled closer to his mentor. Voldemort awkwardly wrapped his arms around Harry and just smiled at the sensation of just touching and holding the boy. He sat on the boy’s chest as a snake, yes, and drifted by him as a wraith, but holding him, actually holding him in a body of his own, was different. A swell of protectiveness came in Voldemort as he looked down at his perfect apprentice. Sleeping so innocently and yet the boy was practically radiating dark magic. “You truly would be a waste in Dumbledore’s hands,” Voldemort chuckled to himself softly. “Though I cannot help but wonder why it is I’ve become a small boy once more, instead of a snake or adult?”

“I like it,” Harry muttered sleepily, not even bothering to open his eyes. “You’re better to talk with than an adult.”

Voldemort chuckled. “I thought I ordered you to sleep,” he said.

“I’m trying,” Harry yawned. “Sorry.”

Voldemort just hummed. He continued to wonder why it was that Harry’s magic had him turn back into a child. He knew that he truly was not a child again, this was simply a form that his magic created just like his snake form. Was it because of that one small moment when Harry saw him like this before they met officially? Or was it because even though Harry had Voldemort as his mentor, what the boy wanted, deep down, was a friend? A fellow child who could relate to him? The Dark Lord found himself feeling perplexed, but in the end, it did not matter. He would be whatever Harry wishes him to be. He needed the boy after all to regain his body. And the thought of corrupting this child and pulling him further away from what Dumbledore and the rest of the wizarding world are expecting him to be is just too enticing for the Dark Lord to pass up. And his magic. Voldemort was truthful when he sensed it, the boy had a potential amount of Dark Magic inside him, why his magical core is simply drenched in it. Much more than any other normal witch or wizard would have. It was curious, and Voldemort knew he felt something strange inside the boy when he shared his magic, but he knew he will find out eventually. Harry Potter was his after all, and they had all the time in the world.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

Deadly Grief

Harry couldn’t believe that he was already eight years old. It seemed only yesterday that Voldemort came into his life and now he was eight, and practically thriving with his magic. Ever since they shared magic, Harry found that Voldemort started to really take care of him, much more than the Dursleys. Whenever he was sent to his room without dinner, Voldemort would make food and drink appear so Harry can eat. He still was small for his age, but he did not care. He had Voldemort, who has rarely turned into a child again since the first night of sharing magic, instead his mentor preferring to stay as a snake, and he had his magic. That was enough. And oh, his magic! It was developing at a pace that made Lord Voldemort swell with pride. Harry could make orbs of light with just a waggle of his finger, snap small flames into existence for a moment or two, and make small objects levitate if he concentrates REALLY hard!

Lord Voldemort, too, seemed to be strengthening throughout the year as well. Ever since the first time they shared power, Voldemort felt invigorated, youthful almost, and more chained to the mortal realm. So, once a month, he would ask Harry for a bit of his power, and they would do the ritual again. Each time, Voldemort felt that strange darkness inside Harry, a darkness that was separate from the boy’s own power but still somehow familiar. He felt like he was close to figuring out what exactly was in his little apprentice, but only time will tell what exactly. In the meantime, Voldemort began teaching Harry the more unique ways to use magic.

For example, there was a girl in Harry’s class with the vile name of Susan Ugliano. Even Voldemort was amused, for a time, by her horrendous name, however, his amusement stopped as he observed her behavior. She was an American transfer and seemed to bring with her American manners. She sat next to Harry and always chewed gum loud enough for Harry to hear it and break his concentration. His apprentice, being the naively sweet boy that he was, tried to ask her nicely if she could chew with her mouth close. His request only got Harry gum flicked on his desk in return and a loud braying that was her laughter. That night, Harry complained to Voldemort about her, and her loud horse laugh. “I don’t know what to do with her! There has to be something!” he pouted.

“Of course there is, my little snake,” Voldemort said, choosing this night to stay as a child during their practice. Harry was able to sneak out of the cupboard and house so that they could both sit under the starry sky in the backyard. “All you need to do is ask, and I will teach you.”

“Oh, well she’s always chewing that disgusting gum!” Harry complained. “I want it to rot her teeth or uh turn into something disgusting-tasting like spinach or garbage!”

Voldemort laughed, “Easy enough Harry all you need is to concentrate,” He waved his hand and the door opened, an apple floating from it that was obviously from the bowl of fruit that only Harry and Aunt Petunia eat from. “As with other magic, a wand will make it easier, give you a conduit to focus your magic, however you can still do this wandless. In fact Harry, I am hoping that by the time you are at Hogwarts, you can perform simple spells and charms perfectly without the use of a wand, like your light summoning spell.”

“Yeah,” Harry grinned. He waved his finger in a small circle and a ball of light appeared.

“Yes, exactly,” Voldemort nodded. “Now, to change the taste of food, we will be actually using an incantation. The incantation is Gustutatio. Repeat that Harry.”

“Gus-tut-a-tio… Gus-tu-ta-tio… Gustutatio,” Harry said, his tongue feeling funny as he did his best to pronounce the word. Voldemort nodded and Harry smiled.

“Good Harry, good! Now the next step is to imagine the taste you are changing your target to,” Voldemort said.

“Garbage,” Harry said. “Icky, smelling, disgusting garbage.”

Voldemort chuckled. “Then imagine that and focus on the apple.” Harry nodded and stared at the apple. He pointed his finger at it and said with confidence, “Gustutatio!” Nothing happened. Harry felt no special feeling or any wind blowing. He leaned towards the apple and sniffled, the apple smelling normal. “Try again,” Voldemort said.

Harry did. He tried again and again. On the fourth, he felt his fingers tingle and grinned as he somehow knew that the spell worked. Voldemort examined the apple and for a moment Harry thought he was going to try it, but he did not. Instead, Voldemort smiled and nodded. “Good job Harry,” he praised. “That awful muggle would not know what hit her.”

Harry grinned and cheered softly. He did it two more times, changing the apple to taste like strawberries and bananas before the two decided to call it a night. The next day, Susan Ugliano had a pack of gum sitting on her desk. Harry waited until she went to the bathroom and pointed his finger at the pack under his own desk. Thinking about the most disgusting, smelly garbage possible, Harry kept whispering under his breath, “Gustutatio” until he felt the familiar swell of his magic working.

Susan came back and Harry did his best to look innocent as he focused on their teacher. Susan took out a piece of gum and unwrapped it, throwing the foil wrapper at Harry. Harry ignored it and looked down at his math work. He heard Susan put the piece of gum in her mouth and chewed. Once, twice, three times. A loud hacking began, and Harry hid a giggle as Susan stood up, coughing, and spitting desperately. She spat her gum on her desk and threw up a second later. “MISS UGLIANO WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?” their teacher screamed. Susan just threw up more. The class laughed, Harry, joining in as Susan ran out, throwing up all the way. Harry felt very accomplished with himself. The teacher had the surrounding students move their desks away, and when Susan returned she had to clean up her mess. She saw Harry snickering and glared at him.

He figured that she must have blamed him for her garbage gum, for some reason, for the next day she started throwing more at him. Gum wrappers and dried gum, as well as erasures and small pointy pencils. So Harry retaliated with the spells Voldemort taught him. He learned that he could take small amounts of money from the kids who laughed at him instantly, as though they just teleport into his pocket. Sometimes Susan and Piers’ pencils spat out water everywhere, or Dudley’s entire hair turned into a crazy blue. Snacks also started to get missing, appearing in Harry’s desk before the wrappers moved to Dudley’s. Every day Harry was bullied, and every day Harry retaliated with magic that nobody noticed. He was getting better at handling his magic, making things do exactly what he wanted. Dudley and his gang continued to chase him, catching him sometimes, but it did not matter for Harry curled into himself and planned on his revenge. The students were starting to avoid him even more obvious now. There were whispers of “that strange Potter kid” and things that happened around him, but Harry did not care. He finally had something to fight back with, and he was going to use it. Besides, in Harry’s mind, he was doing nothing wrong. They deserve what happened to them, and these were all harmless jokes.

It was currently January, and last night brought a blanket of snow. Harry still had school and was shivering as he tried to warm himself without using the magic fire Voldemort showed him. He was surrounded by people, wearing hand-me-down clothes and a jacket that was thinner than a piece of paper. During class, he could run to the bathroom to warm himself with the spell, but walking back to Uncle Vernon’s house, he had no chance to himself. The best he could do was hold onto himself as he rubbed his arms. His shirt was sticking with sweat; his shoes were drenched because he stepped into a puddle which looked suspiciously like frozen ice, and his glasses kept fogging with every other step.

He stopped to desperately try to warm himself when he heard a voice. “POTTER!”

Dudley and his gang were behind him, all bundled up properly. “You look a little cold Potter,” Dudley taunted, “How about a run to warm you up? I think our fists would help.” The others all grunted and chuckled. Harry swallowed and took a step back, slipping on ice but still stood. He turned as quickly as he could, running down the pavement as Dudley yelled to chase after him.

Harry ran down the street until he could cut into an alleyway. Through the alleyway, Harry scrambled over a fence into someone’s backyard. There was a park nearby with a big empty field and lots of trees, he hoped to lose them in that. He stopped to catch his breath and looked over his shoulder to see Dudley’s goons pushing his fat cousin up over the fence, struggling as he did so. Harry laughed at the display only for Dudley to glare at him. “Piers get him! We’ll catch up!”

Piers, being the smallest and fastest of the group, nodded and immediately jetted for Harry, who screamed and started running once more. There was no one else in the park, no one even around strangely enough, but Harry did not care. He just needed to make it to the trees and then he could lose them. His legs started to burn as he had to pull them out of the snow with every step. His chest ached as his lungs felt on fire. He was sure that his entire body was turning red but it did not matter. He needed to run. Needed to lose them in the trees. Then he could rest.

Dudley was over the fence. His face and front were covered with snow. He pointed at Harry and yelled something, but Harry couldn’t hear. It was like his ears stopped working, all he thought about was running and the trees. The safe haven where he could get lost in inching closer and closer with each labored step. He was almost there. The trees were getting closer and closer, he could smell them off the winter air.

His feet stumbled on the snow, his legs wobbled, gave up, and Harry fell.

Piers caught him, jumping on his bed and hooking his arms around Harry’s. “I got him!” He cheered. “Dudley look!”

Harry struggled to throw the rat-faced boy off of him, but Piers just held harder. “Watch it, Potter, I told you my brother’s teaching me things, we don’t want me to do them to you, huh?” Piers threatened in Harry’s ear. The rest of the gang caught up and Piers did the first blow. He twisted Harry so that he was on his back, and then punched him directly in his face. There was a squishy crunch sound as Harry’s nose broke and started to bleed. It was warm against his cold skin, but it only made Harry feel a sense of dread that he never felt before.

The bullies laughed and Piers was pushed off of Harry so Dudley can have his turn. Dudley grinned mercilessly at Harry as he raised his fist. “You’re such a waste!” he laughed and punched Harry, “Everyone blames me for eating those treats, but I see you eating them you freak! Don’t know how you get them in my desk but you’re doing it somehow you freaky freak!” Dudley punched and kicked Harry wherever he could reach. He punches Harry’s eyes, smashing his glasses, the shards cutting into the boy’s skin, and miraculously missing the eyes themselves, his cheeks, jaw, everywhere that Dudley could reach was spared no mercy as he worked out his aggression on Harry.

Harry’s face bruised, becoming a mixture of dark purples and blues and reds as his nose continued to bleed. He continued to struggle but Dudley punched his forehead, and suddenly he felt very dizzy and nauseous. Vomit pushed up his throat and he did his best to swallow it down before he choked. The gang just laughed around him. Dudley stood up and jumped on his arm, Harry giving a weak scream of pain. His cousin did not break his bones, miraculously, however, it still hurt. Then Gordon jumped on his other arm as Malcolm and Dennis jumped on his legs. Pain surged. Harry cried but that only provoked them more. Through his blurry vision, he could see the white snow staining with his blood and he tried to call for Voldemort. His voice gargled and Harry coughed and spat out blood and vomit.

The assault continued. Harry did not even know who was doing what anymore. Punches and kicks all rolled into just a singular sensation of pain that Harry did his best to endure. He tried to curl into himself, but hands held his arms and legs out. There were cracks when someone kicked him, and he was sure that his ribs were breaking. The pain became too much. His tears never stopped. Everything was turning black. Was this how it’s like to die? That dark thought moved in Harry’s head. Was he going to die now? Now after eight years of living? After finally finding comfort and power in Voldemort. Is this all that is left for him? To die? No. He didn’t want to die. He was afraid, very afraid, of the thought! He was too young! He didn’t even fully learn how to write in script yet! But he couldn’t do anything. He felt too weak. There were too many people. He only could beg that it would be over soon.

But it wasn’t. The gang continued to kick and punch until Harry couldn’t scream anymore. He just whimpered voicelessly and barely moved. Dudley scoffed and stared down at Harry. “I’m bored,” He said. “Come on! Let’s go somewhere else.”

The snow around Harry was kicked up, a mixture of red and white. He did not bleed much, there was no sense from anyone that he would die. He was just in a lot of pain, but still, Harry felt like he was going to die any moment now. But at least, he would do it in peace. Alone.

“You guys go on, I wanna do one more thing my brother taught me,” Piers grinned.

“You’re sick Piers!” Gordon laughed.

“Wasn’t your brother in like juvie or something?” Malcolm asked.

“Yeah, he’s totally awesome!” Piers grinned. “You saw his magazines!”

The group laughed and said goodbye. Harry heard Dudley and his friends walking away, leaving just him and Piers. Piers gave a chuckle and stepped towards Harry, kneeling down to pick up his broken glasses next to him. One lens was completely shattered with the other cracked in half. Harry’s eyes strained as he tried to focus on Piers. “You see me, Potter? I want you to see exactly what I do to you,” He grinned. “You know my brother right? Went to one of those Offender Institutions or whatever the hell those big wigs call ‘em. Point is, he learned some great things you get to do with guys like you, and being the best big bro he taught them to me too! You want to see what he taught me?” Piers laughed. He pulled Harry out until he was laying on his back then stood on top of him, leering at Harry with an expression he didn’t understand. It scared Harry deep to his core. He did not know what Piers was going to do, he did not want to know, he wanted to get away. Piers reached for his pants and Harry screamed.

“GET AWAY!”

The snow erupted. Large black snakes all flew out of the sky, as though rocketed from the earth itself. These snakes were thicker than Harry’s legs, and twice the size of a regular eight-year-old. The snakes all flew at Piers, pushing him off of Harry and away. Piers screamed and Harry had just enough strength to push himself up to see what was happening.

Piers was on the ground, struggling to fight the multitude of snakes that surrounded him. His legs and arms waved madly. He screamed and cried, “Get them off! Get them off! Someone get them off!” The snakes had their heads arched back, posing to strike. One did, his mouth opened to reveal large sharp fangs dripping with green venom. Piers screamed as the snaked bit him and pulled back, ripping out at the skin and muscles. Harry couldn’t scream at what he saw. Piers’ arm had a hole in it, a large hole that was the chunk that the snake bit out. Around it was bloodied skin and muscles all gushing and convulsing, and right at the bottom was the white of Piers’ bone. Piers’ scream pierced the air around them, but for some reason, there was no one around to stop the snakes, just as there was no one around to help Harry. The snakes struck again, tearing more chunks from the boy. Blood gushed and sprayed everywhere, painting the snow but it never touched the snakes who continued to be black as midnight.

Harry could not look away. He could not scream or move. He watched helplessly as the snakes tore at Piers. His entire right arm was gone, and half of his legs were now just bloodied bones. Piers was still alive, however, screaming and pleading for help. “Harry! Please Harry help! Please I don’t want to die! I’m sorry! Mummy, please help!” Harry just stared, his body barely trembling as the snakes started to tear at the boy’s midsection. The snakes started to fight over the organs that they ripped out, hissing and pulling like starved crazed animals. Piers’ pleas ended, but his eyes still moved, his face covered with blood, snot, and tears. With a final scream, a snake lunged at Piers’ throat, and with a final spray of blood, the body was wrapped in a black mass as the snakes all seemed to conform together. There were no more screams. No more tears. No more blood.

The mass disappeared, leaving just the stained blood and clean white bones.

Harry just stared. At the bones. At the blood. At the things that used to be his bully Piers. His cousin’s friend. He was gone. No, he was dead. The snakes killed him. The snakes that should not be here normally. The snakes that Harry summons. Piers was dead. The snakes killed him. Harry killed him. Harry killed him. Harry killed him. Harry—Harry—Harry was a murderer. “No…” Harry’s voice was so small and fragile that the wind could barely carry it. Piers was dead. Harry killed him. “No…” Chunks of Piers’ body was torn apart. Blood sprayed everywhere. Piers did not want to die. But Harry killed him. “No.” He pleaded for his mother. He was a bully. Piers was going to do something. He was just a kid. The snakes fought over his organs. Blood everywhere. Harry Potter was a murderer. “NO!”

Harry broke. He screamed and cried until everything hurt again and his voice was hoarse. He wanted it to go away. He wanted everything to go away. But the bones were still there. The blood still stained the snow. He never wanted to do magic again. He needed to do magic to get away. Voldemort was going to leave. Voldemort was going to be disgusted at what he was. He was alone. He needed to be alone. He wanted to be with someone. He needed Voldemort.

Arms wrapped around him and Harry barely looked up to see the young face of Voldemort holding onto him. “Harry,” he breathed. Harry just held onto him and cried. His broken body finally calming down, finally throbbing fully with his pain as he held onto Voldemort, his own life support. Through his tears, Harry did his best to try and tell what happened. Voldemort just listened to him. Silently casting a warming spell around them so the cold wouldn’t affect them. Harry’s body started to feel life again. Voldemort shifted so that Harry was laying on his lap. “Everything will be okay, my little snake,” Voldemort promised. He petted Harry and everywhere his fingers touched, the pain disappeared. Harry’s cuts were healed, his ribs felt like they were moving back in place, and strength returned to his arms and legs. Harry just cried silently, looking away from the bloodied snow and bones. Voldemort saw this and frowned. “I will make sure that nobody is suspicious of you Harry, you just need to rest,” Voldemort promised. Harry just continued to cry.

Voldemort petted his apprentice’s hair with one hand as he waved the other, concentrating on the mess in front of him. The snow absorbed the blood and bones, both sinking into the ground until nothing was left. He sighed and continued to pet Harry. His sobbing has subsided, and he looked as though he was on the verge of falling asleep. “Stay awake little snake,” Voldemort said soothingly. “Even with magic, sleeping in the snow would not be a good idea.” Harry just murmured something but allowed Voldemort to help him on his feet. He leaned on Voldemort heavily, still someplace between awake and asleep. Voldemort wrapped an arm around Harry and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You remind me so much of him, it is truly spectacular,” he said.

“Who?” Harry said sleepily.

“My first significant other,” Voldemort said, smiling a little. “He was a lot like you, Harry. Smart, resourceful, tough, and yet soft despite it all.”

“What happened?”

Tom’s smile faltered. “He was too pure,” he said sadly. “My sweet little Adrian. He was too pure, too good… but I’ll tell you that another day, my little snake. I want to make sure that you are okay first.” Harry nodded before drifting off. Voldemort brought Harry back to the Dursleys, and though he wanted to put Harry in a proper bed, he was forced to put him back into the cupboard. The fat whale tried to scream when he saw Voldemort, but the Dark Lord just froze him, as well as the horse-woman and the fat cousin. He did not want to deal with any muggles. He made sure that Harry had food and water in his cupboard and placed both a warming and locking spell on the door so that his apprentice would stay safe. He took a second to wipe himself from the muggles’ memories and stepped out the door.

He was starting to feel tired, sustaining this form and using magic was taking a lot of the Dark Lord, but still, he knew that he had enough for what he needed to do. He had followed Harry’s attackers often enough that he memorized where they all lived. The child Piers lived only a few houses away, and so it took the young-looking Dark Lord little time to get there.

He did not bother knocking. Instead, the door unlocked to his touch. He may be in the temporary form of a ten-year-old, and he may not have all of his power, but the Dark Lord was still powerful, a fact that he was particularly prideful of and such he did not even need to bother with pretending to be an innocent child. He froze every muggle he saw, two adults and a teenager, and walked around the home until he found Piers’ room.

His room was very ordinary, almost to a fault. Clothes and toys were scattered everywhere, and on the messy bed, poorly hidden under pillows, were erotic magazines that made Tom roll his eyes. As though this child would even know what to do with those body parts. The Dark Lord worked quickly. He found a piece of paper and pencil, and in his best imitation of Piers’ handwriting, he wrote a short note stating that Piers was going to run away. He left it on the pile of magazines and left without another word. With his simple task completed, Voldemort exited through the backyard, snapping his fingers to unfreeze the muggles. He took a deep breath and felt his body disappearing. He felt lighter, almost like wisps of vapor as he turned back into a wraith. He stayed in the home, only to make sure that the note was found and the muggles were convinced, and then he left to watch over his little snake, whom he found still sleeping.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Control

Harry did not speak for a week. Not to anyone. His teachers, his bullies, not even Voldemort. He felt heavy, yet hollow. Like something was taken out of him only to be replaced by a useless ball that weighed a ton. He moved through the motions of living. Waking up, eating the scrapes that Dursleys give him, going to school, and getting beat up. He did not even try to run. At nights, he was plagued by nightmares. He could still see it, those horrible black snakes that he conjured tearing into Piers. Those horrible sounds as flesh and muscles were ripped, leaving nothing but bones. And blood. So much blood. Harry was afraid to sleep the first time it happened. He managed to stay up for two nights before his body failed him and he rested. All while Voldemort hovered over him, taking care of him. The muggles began to whisper about his odd behavior, giving him sorry looks. “The poor dear, he’s taking it so hard,” his teachers would say, “I always saw him with that boy. They must have been the best of friends.” Harry could only sneer at them. He remembered the blows, the punches, the kicks, and insults before blood washed over it.

It was exactly a week later. Harry was away from everybody, sitting with Voldemort on a nearby hill. The snow around them was mostly melted as it has been an unusually hot week for this time of year. “I killed him.” Harry’s voice was small, weak, but Voldemort heard him all the same.

“Yes, you did,” Voldemort nodded. “Call it self-defense, which it was, however, you did kill him.”

“They’re not going after me. They said he ran away,” Harry muttered. Voldemort sighed and wrapped an arm around the small Potter boy.

“That is because I took care of it, Harry,” he said.

“You take good care of me,” Harry muttered. “I don’t get it. Why do you do this?”

“Hmm? If you are wondering why I am acting so… kindly to you, so caring, it can be explained with selfish reasons,” Voldemort said. “However know that I do not act like this to anyone. In fact, you are only the second person who I act like this towards.”

“But why?” Harry asked.

Voldemort hesitated for a moment. “Because you remind me of Adrian, and of myself,” he answered. “I was once weak like you. Powerless. I lived in an orphanage where the muggle children treated me cruelly. Did everything your cousin and his brutes did and more. The matron allowed it. I was the son of a tramp in her eyes, a burden placed upon her. I was around your age actually when I learned an important lesson.”

“What did you learn?” Harry asked.

“Power comes only to those who seek it and uses it. I knew I was different for a long time. That I was better than the muggles around me. Superior. I could do things nobody else could. I could talk to snakes, move things without touching them, and make animals do my bidding. So I started to use that power and have my revenge.”

“Revenge,” Harry whispered.

“Yes Harry,” Voldemort nodded. “The muggles did horrible things to me, just as they did horrible things to you. It is in our right as wizards to take revenge and show them their place. I’ve stolen their precious toys and possessions, made their pets disappear, and lured them into a cave where they experienced the worst of nightmares. Every horror they’ve done to me, I’ve returned. Just as you’ve returned the horrors to Piers.”

“My killing was revenge,” Harry whispered.

“Your murder of the boy was revenge, yes, but it was also a show of power. Of control. You are a powerful wizard Harry. Not just anyone could do the things you have done with or without a wand,” Voldemort said. “It’s time that you realize that, Harry. You have an arsenal at your disposal. Magic. Use it. Use it, my little snake, and better your life as we take vengeance on those abusive muggles!”

Harry just stared out. The heavy feeling in his gut that filled the empty spot inside him shifted. He felt weird. Like once again he was seeing the world anew. He gave a soft chuckle. The weight shifted more inside him, banging inside like an egg about to hatch. “I can… use my magic,” Harry said slowly, “to make my life better. I can use my magic on everyone who is ever mean to me… and take revenge.” The weight inside him shift more, and something cracked. The weight disappeared entirely, and Harry felt like that hole inside him was filled with a new revelation! He was a wizard! A powerful wizard! He killed Piers because it was his right to. Piers bullied him. Piers was about to do something worse to him! So Harry had to do it. It was right. Just. He was superior.

Harry gave another chuckle and looked at Voldemort. “I never want to be powerless again,” he said. “Teach me, please. I want control. I want control over everything!”

Voldemort gave an amused chuckle and pulled Harry closer, “Of course my little snake. There are spells that can give you that, of course. Control over people, that is. The most powerful, and the one that I use often is the Imperius Curse, one of the three Unforgivable Curses, but there are weaker, easier versions that I can teach you—”

“No, I want that one. Teach me the Imperius Curse, Voldemort. Please,” Harry said, adding the please more as an afterthought.

“Remember your place and age,” Voldemort warned. “You are my apprentice, you will not order me around, Potter. And no, that spell is much too complex and advance for you. It will drain your magic, it is much too Dark for you right now.”

“I need it,” Harry said. “I need that spell Voldemort, please. I want control over my life!”

“Foolish boy,” Voldemort muttered. “Just like him.” The Dark Lord sighed and looked out to watch the sky with Harry. The sun was beginning to set, shades of oranges and pinks mixing with the horizon of snow-coated houses and fields. “If you keep demanding the strongest spells when you are not ready, the magic will overwhelm you, Harry,” he said with sincerity. “I’ve seen it happened once before. I refuse to see it happen again.”

Harry looked at Voldemort a little sadly. “I still want to learn it,” he said. “I have to learn it. I need control Voldemort, please. I’m begging you.”

Voldemort shook his head. “I’m too bloody nice,” he muttered. “I will tell you about the Imperius Curse, Harry, but remember it is much too advanced for you to perform right now. What you can do right now is amazing Harry for your age. Wandless, nonverbal magic, even if it is summoning small fires or balls of light. The Imperius Curse, however, is completely different. It is Dark Magic, yes, but one of the Darkest. It gives the controller complete control over the victim. That is what the Curse means. Imperio… To Rule. You rule over your victim and they are forced to follow whatever you tell them. No sense of self, no will, just your voice and commands.”

Harry stared at Voldemort in awe. “I can make them do whatever I want,” he said. “Like make Dudley give himself and his friends wedgies! Or have Uncle Vernon starve while I eat a full dinner!”

Voldemort stared at Harry for a moment before chuckling, “Yes, exactly. But you will have to wait years before you are able to do the spell. I will teach it to you, naturally, but not until you are at least fourteen.”

“But that’s so far away!” Harry whined. He huffed, “But fine. I’ll wait.”

“Good boy, my little snake,” Voldemort praised. Harry smiled at the praise and looked back at the sunset, his mind working at how he can keep a secret from his savior.

“Imperio.” Harry’s voice sounded harsh. He was in his cupboard, laying on his bed as he stared at a spider on the wall. For the last ten minutes, he tried to control the spider. Dance around, he thought. “Imperio!”

The spider did not move. Harry scowled. “Stupid spider! Come on! Imperio!” Again the spider did not move. It just stayed in its web, waiting for prey. Harry sat up and glared at the spider. “You will do as I say!” he said, pointing his finger once more hand he felt his magic swell inside him. “DANCE! IMPERIO!” Magic swelled around him and he felt a connection to the spider. However, instead of dancing, the spider caught on fire, falling from its web and it burned to death on Harry’s pillow. “Stupid spider, AHHH!” Harry growled out, smacking the fire away and off of his pillow. He glared at where the spider was then at his finger. “Stupid magic! Do what I say!”

He went to bed angry and tried again the next day. It was hard to find bugs in winter. Harry had to look in every corner of the Dursleys' home and school. When he did, he tried the Imperius Curse, hissing and glaring at the bugs as he commanded them to dance. But no matter what he did, the bugs did not do as he commands. The spiders did not dance. The ants did not jump. The cockroaches in the school basement did not spin around. He tried it even on a small puppy he found one day, but still, the dog only barked at him instead of spinning around and jumping on its hind legs. Weeks went by with no improvement to the spell. Harry was starting to get tired, feeling frustrated at both himself and the magic. “What is the point of being a wizard if I can’t do one stupid spell!?” he screamed in the basement. He waved his hand and small orbs of light and fire shot out, dancing around him as he moved his hands. “I can do this! I can make light and fire but making a stupid bug do a somersault? Damn Impossible!” The fire and orbs of light intensified before bursting.

Harry huffed, tired and he growled out. He raised his hands and stared at them for a moment before smacking his cheeks. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” he said, smacking himself with each word.

He huffed and glared at the wall. He gave the empty wall a final sneer and left the basement. He sat down at his desk, feeling angry at himself and his magic when Susan Ugliano gave Harry an ugly smile. “Hey stupid face, I heard you were in the basement again yesterday. What? Figured you’re stupid enough so you might as well become a school janitor?”

“Leave me alone Susan,” Harry muttered angrily.

“Or what? You’re going to make me disappear?” Susan laughed. No, I want you to hurt, Harry thought grimly. He glared at her as she laughed louder, and the teacher yelled at them to pay attention. Susan turned to listen to the teacher, but Harry just stared at her, muttering under his breath as he thought Punch yourself in the face. Pull your hair out. “Imperio. Imperio. Imperio. Imperio.”

His magic refused to cooperate. Susan did not move. She didn’t listen. She just stared at the teacher, obnoxiously chewing on her gum. Harry’s brows furrowed. Come on! Punch yourself! “Imperio! Imperio! Imperio!” he snarled under his breath. His magic refused to move. Harry started to feel lightheaded. He snarled at Susan, angry at everything not working around him. “Stupid,” he muttered, not knowing if he was muttering about himself or Susan.

When he was home with his chores done, Harry was still angry about his failure. He needed the spell to work. He needed to prove to Voldemort that he was powerful! That he could do it! The Dark Lord was teaching him other things, yes, however this Unforgivable Curse, this one single spell was the bane of Harry’s existence. He needed to get it right.

With this in mind, he found himself in his cupboard again, practicing on insects. They continued to not do as he asked, his magic swelled but never did as he needed. With each failed attempt, Harry found his voice getting unconsciously louder. “Imperio! Imperio! Imperio! DARN IT IMPERIO! JUMP OFF YOUR WEB!”

“BOY! WILL YOU STOP WITH THAT RACKET!” The door of the cupboard was ripped open, revealing the angry purple face of Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped, and in his fear and surprise, he set the bugs on fire. Uncle Vernon saw that and gasped before his anger took over. “What did you do, you freak?” he demanded. Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the scruff of his shirt and yanked him out, throwing the boy into the living room.

“Vernon! What is going on?” Aunt Petunia asked, gasping from the kitchen.

“This freak set the spiders on fire!” Uncle Vernon said, “He’s just like his parents!” Aunt Petunia frowned at that and turned away as Uncle Vernon raised his fist. “Think you’ll be a freak in my house, eh boy? I’ll teach you better.”

The first blow knocked Harry’s head. He felt numbed as the world spun, and the second blow to his stomach didn’t hurt as much. His nerves fired up again and pain spread across his body just in time for the next series of Uncle Vernon’s punches. The large muggle roared, sounding like an angry, murderous walrus as he punched Harry. “Stop! Stop!” Harry tried to command. He tried to move his fingers; a flicker of fire sparked but it went away with another punch.

“DON’T YOU DARE USE YOUR FREAKISH THINGS ON ME BOY!” Uncle Vernon roared. “You broke my Smelting Stick, so now you have to deal with the belt!” He fumbled with his pants, unbuckling his pants and pulling the buckle out. He bent the belt, holding both ends, and whipped it against Harry. The young boy screamed.

He cried for Voldemort. He felt helpless once more. Powerless. No, I’m not powerless! I told myself I’m not! Harry screamed out and threw out his hand, Punch yourself “IMPERIO!” Uncle Vernon stopped, his hand vibrating as it raised slowly. Harry could feel his energy drain, his magic sapping out as he focused on the man in front of him. Do it! Uncle Vernon punched himself.

But he only did it once. He blinked, clarity coming to his eyes before being replaced by anger. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME BOY? I WILL KILL YOU FOR THIS! WE NEVER SHOULD HAVE TAKEN YOU IN!” He raised his foot, as though he was going to slam it into Harry’s face. The boy couldn’t move away, his vision darkened before becoming completely unconscious.

Uncle Vernon’s foot began to slam down only for a cold voice to stop him. “Imperio!” Uncle Vernon’s body froze. His eyes moved wildly as every muscle in his body refused to move, a dark voice whispering in his mind. Stay still and do not speak.

A boy looking around ten or eleven stepped into view. He had dark hair and eyes and pale skin wearing outdated clothes. The boy bent down in front of Harry and sighed as he brushed Harry’s hair out of his face, “You foolish boy. I told you to wait for me to teach you this spell.” He gave a soft smile, “You are too much like Adrian, he was my little snake too. But now that you’ve given the opportunity, we might as well take advantage of it.” The boy stood up and turned to Uncle Vernon.

“I have wanted to punish you and your family for so long after I’ve seen the way you treat my apprentice,” he snarled, his voice turning cold. “You regret taking him in, but now you will regret crossing Lord Voldemort.” He raised his hand and focused on the muggle in front of him. Muggle minds were too easy to alter, to break, that even without his wand or far from his full power, Lord Voldemort had no problem altering the muggle’s mind to his satisfaction.

He took away the man’s anger. The man’s memories and past. He left no emotion but fear, and a need to serve his superiors. Voldemort left enough intelligence for the man to do his job, as well as act normally without suspicion. But everything else, everything that pertained to Harry, to magic, and actually living, Voldemort did away with.

What was left was a shell called Vernon Dursley. A shell that would live as normal, but he will live in fear over Harry and Lord Voldemort, fear of their wrath, and fear of their punishment. The man was living, but just barely, with no ability to scream or yell or call out for help.

Lord Voldemort left the man standing exactly where he was and went to the kitchen to do the same to the horse-woman, and once more to the boy cowering in his room. The Muggle family under his control, Voldemort decided that it was finally time for some renovations. First, he had Vernon carry Harry upstairs into the room that used to belong to Dudley. The fat boy had his personal stuff thrown out, and he was moved to the second smaller bedroom. Petunia was forced to cook a feast for Harry as both Dudley and Vernon were in the living room, punching each other for Voldemort’s amusement.

A couple of hours later, Voldemort heard a noise upstairs and smiled when he saw Harry walking down the stairs skittishly. “Lord?” he whispered.

“My little snake! Come down, please,” Voldemort said, smiling. “Welcome my boy, to the rest of our lives. The muggles will no longer bother us. We will practice openly, whenever we please, and they will never harm you again. Come, I have a feast to celebrate.” He moved to the bottom of the stairs and held out his hand. Harry moved down and took it. The two moved to the kitchen where a fat chicken was waiting for them with mashed potatoes, stuffing, and carrots and broccoli. Aunt Petunia silently moved out of the kitchen and Voldemort served Harry, filling his plate up before getting a plate himself. “I have enough energy to spend the night with you Harry,” Voldemort smiled. Harry returned the smile and began to ate.

It was the best meal of his young life.

Harry gotten used to his new life surprisingly easily. He no longer slept under the cupboard but in a real bedroom. He had books! Toys! And he no longer had to do chores! Instead, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley did everything, Dudley doing most of the chores. Whenever Harry wasn’t around, they acted like a normal family. They watched the television, but at a volume that did not bother Harry or Voldemort, they went to work and school and acted as though Harry did not exist. However, the changes that happen whenever Harry or Voldemort was around made the boy’s life easier. For one, Harry ate properly now. Full plates of food just for him and him alone. Once he had his fill, Harry left without cleaning up and the Dursleys walked in to eat their food. Sometimes the food was so good that Harry wanted more of it later, so he told Aunt Petunia to put it all away. On those nights, the Dursleys only had a piece of buttered bread and water for dinner, just as Harry was forced whenever he was punished in the past, or they starved. It all depended on Harry’s feelings that day.

Days turned quickly into weeks then months, until before Harry knew it, he was ten years old! He was still short for his age, but he no longer looked malnourished, instead, he had a huge smile on his face and a full head of raven-black hair that refused to bow down to any comb or products. He wore clothes that fit him properly, and whenever he was in 4 Privet Drive, he would dance in his room to music with balls of light and fire dancing with him. It was currently the beginning of the summer, and school has just ended, and Harry was walking outside in the town’s shopping center.

He didn’t know what he wanted, perhaps some new shoes or maybe a shirt with a snake on it, or maybe something green. Uncle Vernon just had a bonus, and Harry wanted to spend all of it. It was a bright sunny day, and Harry’s mood followed the weather as he smiled to himself, thoughts full of clothes. The center was busy with muggles, but Harry kept to himself like he always did. The past couple of years, Harry did his best to limit his interaction with muggles as much as he could. He didn’t talk to the other kids in his school. He barely answered his teachers’ questions, and when he went out he made sure to be polite but short with his answers or requests.

Harry peeked into one store before deciding that he didn’t want to shop there when he saw something he never saw before. Two men were holding hands, staying close together as they walk. Harry saw a lot of couples do this and wondered why it was that these two men were doing this as well. Harry couldn’t help but watch. Normally when he saw couples, he did not care. It was something to ignore, something he just never thought or cared about. But these two men? Harry couldn’t pull his eyes away. He wanted to know more about them, about their relationship. What does it entail? Do they go on dates? Kiss each other? Do things that other couples do? So many questions swam through his head. His chest felt warm, and it felt right to him, normal even.

So, instead of shopping, Harry followed the couple. He kept a distance as he shadowed them, wondering how to approach them with all of these questions. The couple looked happy, really happy, even though people around them were giving them looks. Why were they looking at the two men like that? Some stared with hatred while others just looked disappointed. But the couple didn’t seem to care. They just continued to walk. There were some who were happy, but they were few and far between.

The couple stopped for a moment, pointing at different places to eat. Harry approached them, thinking this was the perfect place to ask them these questions. But a man got to them first. He was a large, burly-looking man with a long beard. “Hey! What are you poofs think you’re doing?” The man growled out.

“Sir, we’re just figuring out where to eat,” one of the couple said, “Kindly leave us alone.”

“After you kindly fuck off, you poofs,” the man slurred. He looked dangerous, and Harry moved immediately. He didn’t know why, but something inside him yelled at him to help the two out.

“Hey! Leave them alone!” He yelled. He ran in front of the couple and glared at the man. “Go away they don’t want around them, you huge bully!”

“Who the hell do you think you are, these fairies’ savior?” The man sneered. “Fuck off you brat, or are you a faggot too?” Harry did not know what he expected, however, the man backhanding him was not it. He fell to the ground, his cheek bruised. Harry stood up, his fingers starting to pulse as he felt his magic react.

“You’re going to—”

Harry was cut off as he felt hands on his shoulder. The shorter of the two men was knelt down, holding him as the other stood in front of him. “Are you okay?” he asked as the other yelled at the man, who just sneered and left. “That disgusting man, people like that just don’t know how to stay in their lane.” He shook his head and helped Harry up.

“I’m fine,” Harry said shortly.

“That was a brave thing you did for us, son, not a lot of people would do that, sadly,” the second man said. “How old are you exactly? You look like you’re eight or seven, where’re your parents?”

“I’m ten, thank you very much, and I can shop by myself,” Harry said, wincing at his sharp tone. “I mean, I just wanted to ask you guys some questions.”

The couple shared a look. The first guy smiled, “Alright, I’m sure we can answer a question or two, but we don’t really have much time.”

Harry nodded and decided to get right to the point. “Why is it when I saw you guys my chest felt weird? Like a hot weird. Also, how can two boys be dating? Is that an option?”

The couple chuckled, the taller man ruffling Harry’s hair, which caused Harry to give him a light scowl. “Well son,” he said, “Daniel and I are gay, that means that instead of holding hands and dating women, we want to date men. We’re boyfriends, and hoping, laws allowed, one day we’ll be husbands. We even got matching tuxes picked out for the day.”

“Joel!” the other person, Daniel, said, “The kid didn’t ask for our whole love story! Look hunny, Joel and I are gay like he said. We figured out that we liked boys instead of girls around your age. I’m not trying to put ideas in your head, but maybe the feeling in your chest is something telling you that, maybe you like boys too? Think about it, is there someone in your life right now, maybe a best friend or classmate, who makes you feel special?” Harry’s mind immediately went to Voldemort. He smiled and nodded.

“Uh-huh, there’s one person and he helps me a lot,” Harry said. “He always makes me feel better.”

“That’s great! Well, who knows, maybe as you grow older those feelings will change, or maybe not, either way, you’re a good kid for standing up for us, so thanks for that,” Daniel said. “But we really have to go now, it was nice meeting you, uh…”

“Harry! My name is Harry,” Harry said. The couple smiled and ruffled his hair one last time before leaving. Harry watched them leave before looking at where the other man ran off to. His happiness quickly moved aside for a rush of anger. That man was nothing but a huge bully, just like how Dudley and his friends used to act. Voldemort taught him how to take care of bullies and made sure they would never hurt anyone again. So Harry ran off in the direction the other man ran away. He felt a strange sensation inside him kind of pulling him down the street. He realized that it was his magic leading him to the man, so Harry smiled, this was going to be so easy.

He found the man a few minutes later exiting what looked like a liquor store. There was a costume shop next to it, so Harry ran inside it, figuring that he needed something to hide his face for when he dealt with the man. He found a batman mask easily that hid most of his face and used Uncle Vernon’s money to buy it. He smiled menacingly as he exited the store, putting the mask on. He found his target walking towards an alleyway holding his bags in one hand.

Harry immediately started running towards him and purposefully bumped into the man, causing his bag to fall, and what sounded like a lot of bottles smashing on the pavement. “Sorry mister,” Harry laughed as he ran into the dark alleyway.

“You little punk! I’ll teach you better than to do that,” The man growled and chased Harry. Harry couldn’t help but laugh, honestly it was too much fun. He slipped behind a dumpster and waited. The man ran past him and with a flick of his hand, the man tripped. Harry laughed again and jumped towards the man, summoning a small orb of fire into his palm. He slapped the man right where the man slapped him and pressed the fire into his skin. The man screamed as his flesh burned. Harry quickly summoned another small ball of fire into his other hand and grabbed the man’s hand, burning it as well. The flesh smelt disgusting, but Harry kept the pressure. He did not want to kill the man, but still, he found his anger pushing his hands harder. The skin blackened and would definitely scar. Satisfied with his quick job, Harry jumped off and ran away without another word.

“Lord Voldemort! Lord Voldemort! You’ll never guess what I did!” Harry said excitedly as he ran into the Dursley’s home. The muggles immediately became silent and sat on the couch, watching television like silent dolls. Harry ignored them and waited; he knew his mentor would come.

Indeed, a moment later, a snake appeared on the kitchen table, watching Harry. “And what is it that caused you to act so excitable?” Lord Voldemort asked.

“I burned a mean muggle and left him to scar! His face and hand,” Harry said proudly. He took off his mask and held it over the sink, burning it with an easy flick. “He was bullying a muggle couple made of two men, did you know they could do that? It’s called being gay.”

“Yes Harry, I know. I told you a tiny bit about my last relationship with a boy named Adrian, my innocent snake,” Voldemort answered, looking a little saddened.

Harry nodded and looked at Voldemort for a while. “Did you love him?” he asked.

“Yes Harry, I did,” Voldemort answered. “Adrian was my everything. My world is dimmer without him.”

Harry moved to the table to sit in front of Voldemort. They never really talked about Adrian. It was something that Harry wanted to know but was too afraid to ask. But now he had an opening, and he wanted to know everything about the man who saved his life, even if it brings up bad memories.  “How did he… what happened to him?” Harry asked.

“He died,” Voldemort answered, he had a pained expression. “We were seventeen. Please don’t ask how, Harry. I don’t want to relieve that moment now. I will tell you, if you truly want to know, but not now. Even now, it is painful.”

“You cared about him.”

“Immensely.”

“Did you, did you want to marry him?” Harry asked. “The gay couple I met talked about wanting to get married. Did you… did you want Adrian to be your husband?”

“I—we had hope that there would be time for such things,” Voldemort answered. “But yes, in a just world I would have married him.”

Harry’s heart ached. He did not know why, but the thought of Voldemort marrying someone made his cheeks flare like whenever he saw a kid with something he wanted. Was this jealousy? Why was he feeling this? Harry cared for Voldemort, yeah, but does that mean… would he say yes? Harry just had to know. “Voldemort, I want, if you are okay with it… I know I’m not Adrian and I’m very, very young but… I want you to be husbands with me.”

Voldemort laughed. He slithered towards Harry and pressed his head towards Harry’s forehead. Then the snake in front of him started to shift as Harry felt his mentor borrowing his magic. In front of him, sitting on the table, sat a confident-looking twelve-year-old boy whose eyes looked too old for his body. “You are truly something Harry Potter,” Voldemort said. “To think that my apprentice would care so much for his master.”

“Voldemort—”

“Tom,” Voldemort said. “If you’re serious about this Harry, then I’ll give you permission to call me by my name. Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

“Tom,” Harry said, sounding the word out. “Tom I’m serious! I want to be your husband.”

Voldemort laughed again and he pressed his hand to Harry’s cheek. “Ask me again in a few years, if your feelings do not change,” he said. “I might… consider your proposal. Now come, we have a lesson, and afterward, I have good news to share.”

“News? What news?” Harry asked, his cheeks blushing as he smiled. He didn’t say no!

Voldemort smiled and continued to stroke Harry’s cheek. “News on how your master can fully regain his power, and more importantly his body.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

The Wizarding World

“For the past month, I’ve been visiting another,” Voldemort began. He and Harry decided to move outside to sit under the early summer sun for this. Harry liked sitting outside next to his mentor. It made him feel safe. “This person is like us in that he is curious about the Dark Arts, and thirst for power. However, he is weak, horribly weak, and thus easily manipulable.”

“Who is he?” Harry asked curiously.

“His name is Quirinus Quirrell. He does not know that I have been following him, as he is in search of power, recognition, and myself,” Voldemort chuckled.

“He’s looking for you?” Harry asked. He looked around his backyard frantically, as though some stranger named Quirrell would jump out at any moment. “Where is he?”

“On his way to Albania,” Voldemort chuckled. “Where whispers say that I am in hiding.”

“Wait, what?”

Voldemort chuckled at Harry’s confusion and petted his hair. “Whenever I was not with you, as a wraith and storing my energy, there were times when I drifted away, to make sure that watchful eyes would stay away from you, little snake. He and the world who believes that I am not dead are under the delusion that I am in Albania, weak and dying, instead of here, strong and teaching you. The man is key to my rebirth. Though you will also play a huge role during it, Harry, the man will allow me several attempts at what we need.”

“What do we need? And why?” Harry asked.

“I’m glad you asked, Harry,” Voldemort said. He pulled Harry a little closer and continued to pet Harry’s hair. So much like Adrian’s, the Dark Lord mused. “He is a professor at Hogwarts, you see. He teaches a ridiculous subject called Muggle Studies as if we need to learn more about these horrible creatures,” Voldemort sneered. “He has taken this school year off as a ‘sabbatical’ in which he was searching for me. I will make it like a chance encounter and offer him a deal: He will gain power and all he had to do is give me the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked curiously. Voldemort gave him a sharp look and Harry quiet instantly with a short “meep.”

“The Philosopher’s Stone, Harry, is a magical stone that, for our purposes, will help create a potion called the Elixir of Life. That Elixir will give me a new body, and I shall be reborn,” Voldemort explained. Harry nodded and Voldemort smiled, satisfied, and continued. “The stone is currently in Gringotts, the Wizarding Bank. It will be amusingly easy to take control over the man and have him steal the stone from there. However, if that did not work, then there will be a second chance. As I shadowed Quirrell, I’ve learned that the stone is to be moved on your birthday actually, to Hogwarts. So, if the theft in Gringotts is a failure, we shall work together to steal the stone from wherever it is hidden.”

Harry nodded and smiled, “So either way I’ll get to see you at Hogwarts?”

“Yes, you will,” Voldemort nodded. “However Harry, there’s something I need to warn you. Firstly, when you see me at Hogwarts, my form will be different, I fear. I will not appear to you as a child nor as a snake. I will have to merge with Quirrell, as horrible as that sounds, in order for me to survive long enough without siphoning your magic. I might even look hideous,” Voldemort shuddered at the thought, “however it is still me, Harry, no matter what.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded, smiling, “I won’t care how you look because I know it’s temporary… right?”

“It is indeed,” Voldemort nodded. “Secondly, never call me by my name in Hogwarts. Not in front of Quirrell, or anyone. We do not want to reveal too early that you are my little snake. If the topic of me comes up, in whatever fashion, always call me by ‘the Dark Lord’ understand? There will be those who use other names, however, you must always use ‘the Dark Lord’ when talking to others about me. We will speak again, I will never leave you fully alone, but we must be careful when we converse. Speaking of, I am sorry, but I must leave you, Harry, for some time. I have to go to Albania and be ‘found’ by Quirrell.”

“You’re leaving!?” Harry asked, clearly afraid about this. Voldemort chuckled and nodded softly.

“Yes, like I said, this must happen so I can have my body back, but do not worry, for like I said, I will never fully leave you,” Voldemort stood up and held a hand out for Harry. Harry took it, and Voldemort pulled him up and held his face gently in two hands. “So, while your master is away, I want you to behave, understand? Keep practicing your magic, keep a low profile, and when you get your Hogwarts letter, go buy your supplies immediately so you can start learning from the books. I’ve written instructions for you on how to get to Diagon Alley, where you can purchase everything you need. It’s on your bed, understand? Keep it safe.”

“Okay,” Harry promised.

“Good,” Voldemort said. He then did something that surprised Harry and made his cheeks turn red. Lord Voldemort leaned forward and kissed Harry’s scar. There was a spark that flew through Harry’s body and he smiled as he felt a little better. “I’ve finally figured out what it is that I feel whenever we share your magic, my little snake,” Voldemort chuckled. “I’ll tell you when next we meet.”

“Fine,” Harry said, pouting. “But you better!”

“I will,” Voldemort chuckled. “Now, I will see you at Hogwarts, my little Slytherin.” Voldemort started to disappear in front of Harry, his body turning hazy and transparent before being blown away like a cloud of dust in the breeze. Harry watched before he couldn’t see Voldemort anymore and sighed sadly. He missed him already. But, his mentor left him tasks to do, and he will make sure to do them. Besides, Harry thought as he pressed his hand on his scar, smiling softly, the kiss felt nice. So hopefully he’ll get another one when it’s all done.

A lone owl found its way to the muggle village of Surrey, dropping its letter in the mail slot of 4 Privet Drive only three days before Harry’s birthday. Dudley silently collected all of the letters and handed them all to Harry before moving back to the living room to sit down in his seat. Harry hummed as he ate his breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes and flipped through the letters absentmindedly. They were never addressed to him, and he felt like a grown-up doing it, so he always looked through them before letting Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon deal with it. That day, however, there was a letter addressed to Harry.

Harry Potter

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

Harry grinned and ripped the letter open, reading it excitedly. Just as Voldemort has told him, it was his Hogwarts acceptance letter, as well as a list of school supplies including robes, textbooks, potion ingredients, and an option to bring a pet (a cat, owl, or toad). Harry wondered what kind of pet he would like. If allowed, he would have loved to have a snake, but maybe an owl would be good to have too! Especially if the owl can send letters between him and Tom, and whatever friends he’ll make at Hogwarts.

His smile growing, Harry quickly scarfed down the rest of his pancakes and went to his room to get dressed. He wanted to make Voldemort proud in his looks, so Harry took the longest time he ever took to pick out his outfit for the day. It was a little chilly for it being summer, so Harry chose a pair of jeans with a deep green shirt and a jacket that he kept open. It was too muggleish, but it would work until Harry reached Diagon Alley. He took out Voldemort’s written instructions and, like every day leading up to this day, he read it carefully. He had to get to a pub that muggles cannot see called the Leaky Cauldron. The muggle entrance was on Charing Cross Road, and unfortunately, he could not have Uncle Vernon drive him there because the walrus had work. So, Harry asked Uncle Vernon for enough money for the bus right to and from, as well as enough for a good meal, and smiled as Uncle Vernon gave it silently. Without a goodbye, Harry left and made his way to the Leaky Cauldron.

It took Harry an hour using the Underground to get to Charing Cross Road. He mixed in easily with the crowd of muggles and looked at the shopfronts as he walked. The Leaky Cauldron was rather obvious to find. The building looked old, contrasting everything around it with faded bricks and mortar that held together and looked to be made and preserved from before the Victorian Age. There was a sign with a cauldron, from which a complicated series of symbols came out. Under which, the words “Leaky Cauldron” were spelled out clearly. Yet, the muggles just walked by, not even looking at the pub as though it was not even there. So stupid, Harry thought as he walked towards the pub and entered it without a second thought.

The insides of the Leaky Cauldron were filled with witches and wizards wearing robes or strangely mismatched muggle clothing. They filled the wooden tables and stools, all talking openly and jollily. Hanging from the ceiling were old, rusted iron chandeliers holding candles, and on the walls were candle holders. Some people glanced at Harry as he looked around the pub. Voldemort’s letter described a small courtyard that served as the entrance. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw an open door that people kept entering and leaving from and figured that it led to the courtyard. He was halfway there when someone called out to him, “Oi! Kid, new Hogwarts student?”

Harry stopped and turned around to see who was yelling at him. It was the man from behind the counter, he was mostly bald and reminded Harry of a walnut. “Um, yes,” he answered. “But I know how to get into Diagon Alley, it’s through here, right?” He pointed to the door he was walking towards.

“Yeah, but where are your parents? You’re awfully young to be shopping by yourself, aren’t ya boy?” the innkeeper asked.

Harry frowned. Anger surged in him and he forced it down. “I’m more than capable of shopping by myself, thank you very much.”

“Well then,” the innkeeper said, giving Harry a dirty look. “Don’t let us stop you then.” He shook his head and muttered under his breath. Harry just shrugged and turned away. He entered the small courtyard and huffed. In front of him was a brick wall and Harry pulled out his instructions before looking at the courtyard once more. He pressed three specific bricks and gasped when the whole wall began to move!

An archway started to form, and Harry stared in awe and wonderment at everything he saw. In front of him was a cobblestone street packed with shops pressed together. The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons—All Sizes—Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver—Self-Stirring—Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them. Harry turned his head in every direction as he walked. Voldemort’s instructions told him that he would first have to go to Gringotts, which he described as a large white building, but Harry was too amazed at everything he saw to even focus on looking for the bank. There was a witch complaining about the price increase on Dragon Liver, a family leaving an ice cream shop with a dancing ice cream cone, boys around Harry’s age pressed against a window with a broomstick, one of them saying loudly, “Look! The new Nimbus Two-Thousand—it’s the fastest broom yet!” There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before nor came up in his lessons, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels’ eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment.

Harry finally looked up to see a snowy white building that towered over the little shop. It must be Gringotts, Harry figured. Before he could even think of buying anything, he needed money. So, with this thought, he climbed the steps and went through the bronze doors. Inside were witches and wizards talking with strange creatures that were shorter than Harry. These creatures had wrinkled skin and long pointed ears and noses as most of them bent over ledgers that looked thicker than Harry’s torso.

He walked up to a free one and cleared his throat, “Um hello? Excuse me?” The goblin stopped and looked down at Harry. “I would like to go into my family’s vault, please? I’m Harry Potter.”

“Are you now?” the goblin said, its voice sounding like acid. It chuckled and said, “Then follow me.” It closed its ledger and hopped off its seat. Harry felt a small shiver down his spine but followed the goblin. He was Voldemort’s apprentice! He had nothing to fear. The goblin led Harry down the large entrance hall towards the back where multiple doors waited. He saw other wizards followed other goblins towards a door in the middle, but they did not go into that. Instead, the goblin led Harry to the door immediately to the right, and chuckled, “Have a seat Mr. ‘Harry Potter,’” the goblin said as they walked into an office. For some reason, Harry believed that the goblin did not believe him. The creature reached up for his forehead and moved his hair, revealing his scar. “A nice trick, but is it real? We were not expecting you until the day after your birthday, Mr. Potter. That was when Dumbledore told us you would come.”

“Dumbledore,” Harry remembered, vaguely remembering the name. He was the man who caused everything. Who fooled his Voldemort into killing his parents… who brought Harry to the Dursleys. An angry knot formed in his stomach as he growled out, “Oh really?”

“Yes, which is why we are… surprised to see you here,” The goblin said. “I do hope that you have your key, and identification.”

Harry blinked at him. He did not have either of those things, and he was sure that underwear with his name on it did not count at all (Not that Harry ever had that). “No, I don’t,” he said. “I’m sorry but why does Dumbledore have a say on my money?”

“That is what it says on the documents,” the goblin said, as though that was all that mattered. “But still… since you have no key or identification, there is still a way for you to confirm who you are.” The goblin’s eyes flickered to Harry’s scar once more. It grinned and walked behind the desk and pulled out a piece of parchment and a long silver knife. “Just a small amount, a small price for a wizard.”

Harry paled at the knife. He was horrible at pain. Everything reminded him of before, years ago, when he was in so much pain that he lost control of his magic. He swallowed heavily as he stared at the knife. Then, a voice inside his head, a voice that was definitely not his own, whispered, “Do it. I will take away any pain.” The voice drifted away just as quickly as it appeared, however, it comforted Harry. It made him remember what Voldemort told him at the beginning of summer. He would never be alone. Not truly. So, with this in mind, Harry nodded and held out his hand. The goblin blinked, surprised, then held the parchment under Harry’s hand and raised the long silver knife. It brought the knife down, barely poking Harry’s middle finger and pulled away. Blood beaded on Harry’s finger and, feeling like it was what he was supposed to do, Harry pressed his finger against the parchment.

The blood began to spread out immediately and Harry pulled back to watch as the blank parchment became full.

Identification: Harry James Potter.

Mother: Lily J. Potter

Father: James Potter

Godparents: Sirius Black & Remus Lupin

Inheritance: Potter Fortune and Lordship; Peverell Fortune and Lordship; Black Fortune and Lordship (pending heir’s death)

It was all surprisingly simple to read. Harry wondered if it was specifically made that way for his age, or maybe witches and wizards liked things simple and neat. Still, however, there was something he didn’t understand. Firstly: he did not know that he had godfathers! He never heard of Sirius Black or Remus Lupin, and Voldemort definitely did not mention them. Secondly, what was a Lordship? He looked at the goblin expectantly and asked the second question.

“Nothing you need to worry about—for now, Mr. Potter,” the goblin answered, sounding much more polite. “Lordships are not available to be inherited until you are at least fifteen years old—that said, Mr. Potter, you do have immediate access to your family vault—the Potters’ that is.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry nodded. “But wait, can Dumbledore take money out of my vault?”

“Yes—and he has. The bank believed that he was taking the money out for your care,” the goblin nodded. “Why does this sound shocking?”

“Umm I never heard of this—or met the man before,” Harry said. “If it’s possible, can you please stop him from taking my money?” He cleared his throat, and sat up taller, “I mean,” he said, doing his best to sound authoritative, “Stop Dumbledore from taking my money!” he thought that Tom would be glad of that.

The goblin bowed. “Of course, it will be done.” He took the scroll and as he rolled it up, Harry was surprised to see it turn into a key! “This is your key to your vaults; however it will only work on Potter’s for now,” the goblin said. “Follow me.”

The goblin led Harry out of the office, and they went through the middle door that Harry saw other wizards go through. It led to a small platform where a minecart was waiting for them, sitting on a long track that disappeared into the darkness. The two got in and Harry barely had time to buckle and hold onto the railing when the minecart sped off like a roller coaster! The cart went down and up hills, zig-zagged around sharp corners, and spun in a way that made Harry’s head feel very dizzy. He was completely lost, not even able to pretend to follow where they were going when the cart stopped. “Here we are, Vault 687,” The goblin said in front of a large iron door. “Use the key.” It pointed to the door’s keyhole. Harry approached the door and slid the key in, turning it easily.

The door opened by itself. Inside was mounds of gold coins, columns of silver, and heaps of bronze coins as well as an old sword with a lion on its hilt and an equally large shield hanging on the wall. Harry just stared at the money trying his best to imagine how many pounds and euros can go into one of the gold coins. “Those are Galleons, Mr. Potter, sir,” the goblin said, “The gold ones, see? Next to them are Sickles, the silver, and Knuts, the bronze. One Galleon is equal to seventeen Sickles, or four-hundred and ninety-three Knuts.”

“Oh,” Harry said. Sounds needlessly complex, he thought before deciding to pocket as many of the gold coins as he could. It seemed the far simplest thing to do. The goblin gave Harry a leather pouch to hold his money in, and Harry was very thankful for it. He stuffed several fistfuls of the gold galleons and left with the goblin, the door closing and locking on its own as the two sat back on the minecart.

After another nauseating cart ride, Harry was on his way outside, overly enthusiastic to spend his money! He couldn’t wait to tell Voldemort! And ask him what exactly a Lordship is.

Outside once more, Harry wondered what he should get first. He pulled out his list and hummed as he walked around. Clothes shopping sounded the most boring if Harry was honest with himself, so he figured that he should finish that first. He looked around until he saw a shop with various robes in its display window called Madam Malkin’s Robes for all Occasions. Harry entered the shop.

It was a nice-looking shop, in Harry’s opinion, full of racks and shelves with robes and everything a wizard or witch would need. A squat, smiling witch dressed in all mauve greeted him. “Hogwarts, dear?” she said when Harry started to speak. “Got the lot here—another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”

In the back of the shop, a boy with creamy dark skin and a happy smile was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

“Hello,” the boy said, “Hogwarts too?”

“Uh-huh,” Harry nodded.

“My mother is buying my books while her current boyfriend is out looking at pets, think he can win my heart with it,” the boy snickered. “Do you fly?”

“Uhh, no, I haven’t learned,” Harry said, remembering about one night Voldemort told him how wizards flew on brooms, and how he personally never had the knack for it.

“Pity. I fly very well, better than my friend Draco does but don’t tell him that. He’s coming to Hogwarts this year too,” the boy said. He glanced at the woman fitting his robe in a bored manner. “Guessing that means you don’t play Quidditch at all?”

“No,” Harry said, vaguely remembering that it was a wizarding sport that Voldemort, again, did not have very much interest in. But it sounded fun when he described it.

“Well, I do, mother thinks I’ll be the greatest Chaser in Hogwarts,” the boy said a bit pridefully. He stared at Harry for a moment and frowned, “You do know what a Chaser is… right?”

“Yes, I do,” Harry said, nodding. He felt that it was a loaded question, but he didn’t feel afraid of it at all. After he heard about Quidditch, Harry spent the next week pestering the Dark Lord until the man gave him everything he knew. “They fly around with the Quaffle that they throw into the hoops to score, duh.”

“Oh, good,” the boy smiled, “No offense, but I thought you were one of those, you know,” he looked around carefully and leaned forward to whisper into Harry’s ear, “a muggleborn.”

“No, I’m not,” Harry said. He remembered Voldemort’s lesson on blood purity and said, “I’m Half-blood if it matters. My father was a pureblood but my mother was a muggleborn.”

“Oh, I see,” the boy said. “Well, that’s better than being muggleborn, eh? Do you know what house you’ll be in? My family has always been in Slytherin, well my family from my mother’s side, but she has good sense, so I’ll definitely be in Slytherin.”

“I’m going to be in Slytherin too,” Harry said, smiling. “Better than Gryffindor, or Hufflepuff.” And I made a promise to Voldemort that I would be in it, he added mentally.

“Good! Then why is it that I have not met you yet? What is your name anyway? I’m Blaise, Blaise Zabini.” The boy introduced himself.

“I’m Harry Potter,” Harry said. The three around them gave a gasp. Blaise stared, “Woah! Are you really? Do you have the, you know…” he trailed off.

“You mean my scar?” Harry asked, “Yeah,” he nodded and lifted his hair so that Blaise could see the scar.

“That is where?”

Harry nodded, he remembered what Voldemort told him and said, “Yeah, that’s where the Dark Lord tried to kill me.” Blaise blinked, surprised, but a grin replaced it almost immediately.

“Cool,” he said. “Did you come here alone?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded.

“Where were you? Did you even know? The whole wizarding world was looking for you!” Blaise said. Harry frowned, he didn’t know how much he should tell Blaise Zabini, even if he was allowed to tell. He glanced at the two witches hemming their robes, who were failing quite miserably at looking as though they were not listening in, and shook his head, “I’m a bit thirsty so maybe we can talk about it over ice cream or something? I saw an ice cream shop when I went to Gringotts,” Harry offered.

“Brilliant!” Blaise grinned. They both finished soon and after paying for everything, Harry hooked his arm around Blaise’s and led the taller boy to the ice cream parlor. They sat down and ordered chocolate ice cream. “So where were you, Harry?” Blaise asked.

Harry thought for a moment, “Where do people think I was?” he asked.

“Living the lap of luxury! At least that’s what Draco keeps saying,” Blaise shrugged. “That or like in some secret training place learning magic.”

“Oh,” Harry said softly. He shook his head and said, “Well, it’s not either of those things.” He sighed and leaned on his elbows, resting his head on one hand as he twirled his other one, summoning a ball of light that he played with idly. “I grew up with muggles, actually. It was horrible, they’re mean, disgusting, smelly—they made me do all of the chores! They had me cook when I was like five! And though I actually kind of like cooking, it was still too much, you know?” He glanced at Blaise. However, the boy was staring at him, or rather he was staring at the ball of light that Harry was playing with.

“How—Harry!”

“Yeah?” Harry asked, his cheeks blushing.

“You’re doing magic! Without a wand and you didn’t even say a spell,” Blaise gasped. “How?”

“Oh, uhh it’s just something I can do,” Harry shrugged. He looked around and bit his lower lip. “Is it something that can’t normally happen?”

Blaise blinked and nodded slowly. “Harry… you need a wand to do magic,” he said.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He stared at his orb of light and blushed. It flickered and faded out of existence. “Oh,” was all he said before looking down at his ice cream. He felt embarrassed. Was he showing off? He didn’t mean to! He didn’t want to appear as a show-off or cocky at all! Those words only brought to mind Dudley and Piers… and he would never be like them. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I won’t—”

“No, no, it’s cool that you can do that!” Blaise said quickly. Harry looked up, shocked. Huh? Blaise closed the distance and smirked at him, “In fact, I can do something that others can’t.” Blaise smirked and winked at Harry. He held his hand up and bent his thumb back, far more than it should be. “See?”

“Woah!” Harry said, looking utterly amazed. “That’s so cool!”

“Nah, you being able to use magic like that is cool!” Blaise said, “Where did you learn that?”

“Oh! Well—” Harry stopped himself. The thought of the Dark Lord rose again and he shook his head. “I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone, exactly, but uh I can explain it like this, I think. I live with muggles, horrible muggles, but uh when I was seven, I met someone—a wizard, and he kind of took care of me since then. He taught me all I know. He knows a lot about uhh magic and pureblood stuff if that makes sense.”

“Ah, okay,” Blaise said. His smile returned and he stood up, stretching. “I think I see my mother! Let’s go say hi to her and see if you can shop with us!” He offered Harry his hand and Harry took it, smiling back at him. For the first time, Harry felt welcomed, wanted by others who weren’t Voldemort, and he loved the feeling. As he walked with Blaise down Diagon Alley, the feeling inside Harry grew, and it took him no time to realize what the feeling was.

Harry Potter has finally come home.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

The Ebony Wand

Mrs. Zabini was a very beautiful, and very tall, woman. Her skin was like Blaise’s, clear and perfect. Her hair was black and long, styled in slight curls, and she wore what looked like a casual dress robe that sparkled a deep purple with stars on it. “Blaise, there you are,” she smiled when Harry and Blaise were near them. Harry couldn’t help but notice that she smelled of rosemary and flowers. “I was wondering where you ran off to after your robe fitting. I see you found a friend?”

Blaise smiled at this and held Harry’s hand tighter, “Mother! This is Harry Potter—we met in the clothing store then we ate some ice cream.”

Mrs. Zabini’s eyes widened as she immediately looked at Harry’s forehead, seeing the scar. “Bless the dark,” she whispered, “it is you… Harry Potter.”

“Y-Yes,” Harry nodded, feeling a little self-conscious under her gaze. He fiddled with his clothes and blushed, “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Harry just got here and only got his clothes—can he go shopping with us mother? Please?” Blaise asked.

Mrs. Zabini chuckled and looked at Harry. “What about your… guardians?” she asked carefully. “How would they feel about this?”

“I’m here alone, ma’am,” Harry answered.

“You are?” Mrs. Zabini asked, “But why? Surely your guardians—”

“Mother,” Blaise said hesitantly, “Harry lived with muggles. Horrible muggles.”

“He has? The poor thing,” Mrs. Zabini doted, “Of course you can come shopping with us. Come along then boys, we are to meet Antonio in Flourish and Blotts. I found all of your books, Blaise, however, I know that you like to look around for other… interesting books.”

Blaise just grinned and winked at Harry. The three made their way to the bookstore, and Harry couldn’t believe what he saw inside. Books upon books all displayed and promising knowledge of magic and everything he wanted to know! The store was filled with parents and their children looking around, adults browsing what looked to be thick tomes with very old and aged covers, and teenagers complaining as they read their Hogwarts lists, “Three books for Ancient Runes! Three! The gull of Blabbing! I knew I should have taken Divination instead, that would have been easy!” Harry loved all of it.

“Right boys, Blaise why don’t you help Harry get his books while I look for my husband?” Mrs. Zabini said.

“Yes mother, come on Harry,” Blaise said, and he pulled Harry into the crowd. “You have your list, right?”

“Of course,” Harry nodded. He pulled it out and read it aloud. The two moved along the walls and Harry had to catch himself multiple times from just staring at the books and reading their titles. One by one, Harry and Blaise pulled out the books Harry needs for Hogwarts, Blaise insisting on carrying them “because I’m taller.” For a brief moment, Harry wanted to levitate the books from Blaise into his hands but thought better of it. Instead, he just gave the boy nasty looks when he wasn’t looking.

They found a couple of other books that seemed interesting to read, such as Curses and Counter-curses, and The Ultimate Guide to Potions, Ingredients, and Elixirs. Harry saw a small skinny book called History of Lordships and quickly pulled that, holding it for himself. The two boys returned to Blaise’s mother who was with a man that caused Blaise to pull an ugly face for a moment. “Hello Antonio,” the boy said as he put the books on the counter. Harry pulled out his sack of gold before any of the Zabinis offered to pay.

“Well, how are you, boy?” the man said with an obviously fake smile. “Was wondering where you ran off to.”

“I could say the same for you,” Blaise muttered. Harry did his best to ignore the obvious tension between the man and his new friend, however, when the man named Antonio stepped close to the two boys, Harry could smell him and his face soured. Mrs. Zabini smelled beautiful, like a field of flowers, but this man? He smelt like too much perfume, but it was like it was rubbed on him. It was weird and made Harry want to gag.

“Boys, please,” Mrs. Zabini said, “We are in public. Harry, dear, did you find everything alright?”

Harry turned and nodded, “Yes, ma’am,” he said politely.

“So polite! Blaise, you should learn from him,” Mrs. Zabini said with a soft giggle.

“She’s right, boy, you can learn some manners from this little sprout—which by the way, who are you boy?” Antonio asked, turning to Harry.

Harry’s pleasant face went away immediately. He stared at the man coldly and collected his things. “Do not call me boy,” he warned. The last person who ever called him that had his face burned, and before that, it was Uncle Vernon.

The man scowled at Harry’s glare. “Watch who you’re talking to,” he warned. “Maybe your parents should give you a lesson on talking to your elders.”

“Antonio! Do not threaten him,” Mrs. Zabini warned. “We are in public!” she whispered harshly. She glared at both Blaise and Antonio and shook her head. “Come along Harry, we have lots more to buy.” She turned and left, Harry following awkwardly after her. Blaise ran to catch up and looked bashfully.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m not… usually as uhh…”

“He smells bad,” Harry said, scrunching his nose up. “Like several bottles of perfume dropped on him.”

“Yeah,” Blaise sighed, he shook his head and smiled, “Anyway, he has to go to work now, so we don’t have to worry. Come on! Let’s go shopping!”

Their next stop was at a trunk shop. Harry didn’t know there was so much about trunks. There were advertisements about trunks that could hold triple its size, trunks that could shrink into a perfectly pocketable size and still be as light as a feather, and trunks that had entire apartments in them! Harry was especially amazed when he heard a toilet flush from one trunk, and a second later a man came climbing out looking sheepishly at him, Blaise, and Mrs. Zabini. “Sorry about that… ma’am,” he nodded at Mrs. Zabini who just scowled. All in all, the trunks were all bigger on the inside, and Harry ended up getting a trunk that was big enough to fit three times as much as it looks! It was full of secret compartments, hidden drawers, and an entire wardrobe to hang his robes! Harry used it immediately to put his purchases in. Best of all, it could shrink into the size of a Walkman.

After trunks, the boys went to get parchment and quills, followed by stopping at the Apothecary to get a cauldron, a nice set of scales for measuring potion ingredients, and basic potion supplies. Harry and Blaise dipped into a third shop to pick up a telescope for each, and Harry checked his list, smiling. “All I’m missing is a wand, and maybe a pet,” he said. “Are you bringing a pet, Blaise?”

“Of course, I have an owl,” Blaise said. “His name is Hermes, and he’s a birthday gift from my mother.”

“He is a reminder for Blaise to write to me weekly. I’ve trained the bird to poke at my son if he forgets,” Mrs. Zabini smirked. “So would you like to look for a pet first, Harry, or shall you two go get your wands?”

Harry thought for a moment and looked at Blaise sheepishly, “Do you mind if we look at the pet shops first?”

“I don’t mind,” Blaise smiled, “Come on! Oh! Maybe before we get our wands, you can show mother your trick? She’ll love it!”

“Trick? What trick is that, boys?” Mrs. Zabini hummed. Blaise looked at Harry and wiggled his eyebrows. Harry sighed but smiled as he held out his hand. He waved his fingers in a circle, and a small ball of fire appeared. Mrs. Zabini and Blaise both gasped as Harry controlled the ball of fire easily, moving his hand with ease as the ball floated around it. “By the dark, Harry how are you doing this?” Mrs. Zabini breathed.

Harry shrugged, “I was taught, I had a mentor, kind of, a very kind man who took care of me when the muggles didn’t. He taught me everything I know, even the things that caused me to live with muggles in the first place.”

“So you know?”

“That the Dark Lord killed my parents?” Harry said softly. “Yeah… but it’s okay, I’m not sad.” And to prove it he smiled at the two of them. Mrs. Zabini stared at Harry for a moment with a raised eyebrow and nodded.

“Come on, boys, we need to get Harry a pet,” she said and guided Harry and Blaise down the cobblestone street. There were two pet stores in Diagon Alley. The first, Eeylops Owl Emporium, sold only owls and owl supplies to take care of them, the second, however, was Magical Menagerie, which sold all other types of animals. The Zabinis and Harry first visited Eeylops, for Harry really wanted an owl at least.

The owl shop was small and dark inside with many types of owls in cages hanging outside that squawked and cooed at the random passerby. Inside was darker than Harry expected, so without thinking he pulled out his hand and an orb of light appeared with a wave of his finger, giving his surroundings a very faint glow. “Oi! Oi! Watch it with the wandlight! These birds are delicate creatures!” A manager yelled at them, and Harry immediately evaporated his ball. Mrs. Zabini tutted and pulled out her wand, barely tapping it and the tip of it glowed. “Honestly, how do you expect potential customers to see?” she said with a sneer. “And this smell? Are you running a shop or a farm?”

Harry barely looked around when he saw a beautiful owl with snow-white feathers and intelligent yellow eyes. He stared at the owl and tilted his head. The owl tilted her head with him. He tilted it the other way and the owl followed. He smiled and the owl gave a soft hoot. He looked at the manager just as he reached them and smiled, “Excuse me? I would like this one, please. It’s very beautiful!”

“Oh, her?” the man blinked. “Uh yeah, of course.” He picked up the owl’s cage and brought it to the counter, as well as a bag of owl treats and owl care products. Harry kept smiling as he paid for the owl, immediately feeding her a treat as soon as they walked out the door.

“Now for wands—”

“But Mother! Harry and I want to look at the other shop too,” Blaise whined.

“He has an owl,” Mrs. Zabini said.

“Please Mother—I promise we just want to look, right Harry?” Blaise said. Harry nodded, giving Mrs. Zabini his best innocent look.

“Please Mrs. Zabini, I promise we will be quick,” he said.

Mrs. Zabini stared at the two before agreeing. She offered to hold the owl’s cage as the two looked inside. Grinning, they raced to the shop, Harry winning. Magical Menagerie was bigger than the owl shop, but only just. It was filled from floor to ceiling with cages holding cats of every color, owls, ravens, bunny rabbits that could change shapes, and many more animals Harry did not recognize. He and Blaise looked around idly, stopping every now and again to pet a particularly cute animal when they reached the back, where Harry heard complaining.

“Too damn small cage, I should never have allowed that viper to take me away from my mother.” Harry let out a gasp when he realized he heard hissing! His mind went to Voldemort and he looked frantically for the source. In the back, pushed against the side, was a small glass container holding a nest of snakes. The container was too small and cramped for them and Harry immediately made his way to them. The one complaining was a long snake with silver scales. She had several tinier snakes laying on her. The snake just glanced at Harry, and he could almost imagine her scowl. “Another dirty boy to gap at me. Probably think I’m venomous, which I am—but not as Venomous as that Runespoor! Oh listen to your mother children, all men are awful rats and should be eaten like such—not you, my sons, oh no not you—but other men! Yes, other men.”

“Excuse me, I’m sorry but are you okay?” Harry asked.

The snake blinked and looked around, “Who said that? Was it you, you useless boa?” The snake turned to glare at a boa constrictor who was lounging on a rock.

“Um, it was me,” Harry said, and he gave the snake a little wave, “Hello, my name is Harry, and I can speak Parseltongue. Are you okay?”

“OH! OH! Finally, a boy who is not an idiot—you walking apes do not know how to speak at all, boy! But you seem able to,” the mother snake said.

“They’re called humans, you idiot,” a boa yawned.

“Shut up! Oh, my poor babies, to hear such nasty language,” the mother sighed. “Human—ape—Harry—whatever—surely you’ll agree? A cage like this is no place for a snake to grow! Why look at what happens, they become useless like that boa over there,” she indicated to the rock-laying boa who barely raised his head. “You humans trade us for those strange round things, I’ve seen it. Would you please do that for one of my children? They do not deserve this fate.”

“Okay, I was actually thinking of getting a snake too,” Harry grinned. “You see, I have an owl, but I think Volde—I mean the Dark Lord would be very happy if I get a snake as well.” He reached in and followed the mother snake’s head as she pointed to a snake. The snake she pointed at was a male with deep silver scales and emerald flecks around his head. The snake immediately coiled around Harry’s arm; it was no larger than a foot in length. “Hello, what’s your name?” Harry asked.

“Don’t have one,” the snake shrugged.

“Take care of him now—and if you can try to break the glass of this cage? I would like to give my thoughts to it to the manager,” the mother snake said. Harry nodded and smiled at the snake on his hand. “Well, let’s get you, and then we can break your mother and siblings free.” He pointed his finger at the glass and concentrated really hard. The back panel disappeared, and Harry grinned. “I’m sorry, but can you wait until I’m gone to talk to the manager?”

“Yes, of course—as if I can instantly rouse these lazy sods—yes boa I am looking at you!”

Harry laughed and smiled as he walked to return to Blaise, who looked completely enamored with a black cat. “Look at him! So cute—do you think mother will let me have him?”

“Maybe, I’m getting this handsome thing,” Harry said, lifting the snake. Blaise stared at the snake and grinned, “Wicked,” he whistled. “But also not on the school list.”

“I’ll sneak him in,” Harry shrugged. “Come on!” He grabbed the black cat’s cage and brought both it and the snake to the counter and purchased everything they needed. Blaise stared at Harry, shocked, but Harry just smiled and looked at the cat he just brought, “I never had friends before,” he admitted, “So I wanted to do something special.”

“Harry! Thank you,” Blaise said, and he hugged Harry fiercely. “My mother is going to freak but I don’t care! Come on!” The two walked out and Mrs. Zabini quickly honed in on their new animals. “That does not look like just looking,” she said. “And Harry, a snake?”

“I like snakes,” Harry smiled. “We have a special… connection.” He placed his snake in his pocket, making sure that he was okay with it.

“And the cat?”

“Please mother? Harry never had friends before and he wanted to mark this occasion!” Blaise said. “And look, he’s so cute!” He held up his new cat who, out of perfect timing or timed practicing, mewled softly.

“I’m not cleaning after him,” Mrs. Zabini sighed, “Now come on, your wands and we stop for food in Knockturn Alley. Much better than that slop at the Leaky Cauldron.” The boys agreed and they followed Mrs. Zabini.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Maker of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place; empty except for a single spindly chair that Mrs. Zabini glared at before deciding to stand.

“Good afternoon,” said a soft voice. Harry jumped.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. “Hello,” both Harry and Blaise said.

“Ah yes,” the man said. “Yes, yes, I thought I’d be seeing you soon, Harry Potter.” It wasn’t a question. “You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work. Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it—it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.”

Mr. Ollivander moved close to Harry, so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

“And that’s where…” Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead with a long, white finger.

“I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did that,” he said softly. “Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I’d known what the wand was going out into the world to do…”

Harry felt very uncomfortable. He did not like Mr. Ollivander talking about his Lord Voldemort like that at all. Ollivander shook his head and, to Harry’s relief, spotted Blaise, and Mrs. Zabini.

“Camilla Zabini! It has been a long time. Yes, I remember. Elm. Ten-and-a-quarter inches.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Zabini said shortly. “My son and Harry are here to buy their wands. Blaise…”

Mr. Ollivander’s eyes fell on Blaise Zabini. “Ah yes, yes, of course,” he muttered.

“Um, Blaise can go first, if he wants to,” Harry said.

“Are you sure Harry?” Blaise asked. Harry smiled and nodded. Blaise smiled and hugged Harry quickly before stepping towards Mr. Ollivander excitedly, “I’m left-handed,” he said.

“My son is too excitable,” Mrs. Zabini muttered, “but he has the right traits when it counts. Just as you are too kind, Harry.”

Harry shrugged, “I can do magic without a wand, I can wait a little bit more,” he said. “Besides, Blaise seemed really excited.” He smiled at Blaise and nodded. Blaise grinned back and stepped towards Mr. Ollivander. The wandmaker worked quickly. A measuring tape moved around Blaise, measuring from hand to hand, hand to elbow, nose to chin, kneecap to foot, and everything else as Ollivander walked around, picking up boxes. “Now, your mother was particularly tricky to find, Mr. Zabini,” Ollivander said. “I remember it took her ten tries to find her wand. A perfectionist’s wand for a perfectionist was how I remember describing it. Now, every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Zabini. We use unicorn hair, phoenix tail features, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.” He returned with the small narrow boxes and placed them on a nearby table. The measuring tape disappeared, and Mr. Ollivander opened one box, “Here we are, try this. Ash and unicorn hair, twelve inches.” Ollivander pulled out the wand and handed it to Blaise. The boy gave it a wave and immediately the spindly chair broke.

“No, definitely not!” Ollivander said, “No matter.” He gave Blaise another wand, and then another, and another until, on their sixth try, Mr. Ollivander muttered to himself as he gave Blaise a strange light wand with a twisted handle. “I do not normally use Ivy, however, there is a wandmaker in Hogsmeade who does. This is one of hers. Ivy with a dragon heartstring. Thirteen inches.” Blaise took it and smiled as he waved the wand. A spark of greens and silver flew through. “Excellent show!” Mr. Ollivander clapped, “Excellent! Yes, very strange wand wood, ivy. Very powerful, but also fickle at times. Too fickle for my taste, however my colleague begged to differ.” Blaise smiled and hopped towards Harry and his mother, showing off his wand.

“Come on Harry! Your turn,” Blaise grinned. Harry nodded and fought the urge to swallow. He felt very anxious all of a sudden. It took Blaise six tries to find his wand. What would happen if Harry couldn’t find his?

Mr. Ollivander examined Harry closely and the measuring tape was out again, measuring Harry from shoulder to finger, hand to elbow, elbow to nose, nose to ear, and elbow to kneecap. He gave the same speech to Blaise and returned with a pile of wands. “Here you are Mr. Potter, beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Give it a wave.” Harry took the wand and waved it, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost immediately.

“No, no, and definitely not! No matter…” Harry tried many wands. The pile of tried wands quickly passed six as they grew on the counter. However, with each failure, Mr. Ollivander seemed to only get more excited. “Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere!” He paused for a moment and muttered, “I wonder… strange combination, and unusual circumstances.” He moved to the back of the shop and pulled out a box. He opened the box and tilted it to Harry.

The wand inside was black with a simple handle. “Ebony and phoenix feather, eleven inches,” Mr. Ollivander said. Harry took it. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down and through the dusty air a stream of purple and black sparks erupted, all twisting and coiling together like a multitude of snakes before exploding like fireworks. “Curious, very curious,” Mr. Ollivander said when he finished clapping.

“Sorry,” Harry said, “but what’s curious?”

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather resides in your wand gave another feather—just one other. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand, when its brother, why its brother gave you that scar.” Harry felt a sense of thrill. Voldemort’s wand has the same tail feather as he did? That just proves once again that he was meant to be Voldemort’s apprentice! “One other thing, Mr. Potter. It is quite curious that this wand, in particular, would call for you, for just until five years ago, its tailfeather was in another wand.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“The wand you currently hold is your wand, yes, but the tailfeather was not always in ebony. Instead, when I have first gotten the tailfeathers and made the two wands, I made the wand that gave you that scar. Yew, thirteen inches. Then I made the other. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. And there it sat until five years ago. It was quite erupted, I heard a loud explosion and when I saw the holly wand, there was a single split down the middle. The core has rejected the wand, an almost unheard-of event but it rarely happens. And so the process of making the wand began anew, and the phoenix feather rejected every wood until I tried ebony.” Mr. Ollivander leaned in too close to Harry, “I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. … After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things—terrible—yes, but great.”

Harry shivered. He paid for his wand and left with the Zabinis. Mrs. Zabini led Harry and Blaise to an offshoot of Diagon Alley that looked seedy as men and women walked around wearing dark robes. Mrs. Zabini walked with her head high and led them to a bright red door that opened to a charming café that was ten times cleaner than the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had a chicken meal he could not pronounce but it tasted very good, and he and Blaise exchanged addresses so they could keep in touch.

He said his goodbyes once more to the Zabinis as they walked him back to the Leaky Cauldron, and after an hour-long ride using the muggle Underground, Harry returned to 4 Privet Drive. He smiled as he went to his bedroom and unpacked all of his new purchases. His owl was perched by his window, which he kept open.

For the final month before Hogwarts, Harry kept to himself mostly. He found his school books very interesting and smiled whenever he got a letter from Blaise and sent his own owl, which he decided to name Hedwig after finding the name in Hogwarts, A History, with his reply. His snake spent his time lazing about in his room, or in the backyard hunting small mice and rats. It was hard for Harry to come up with a name for the snake, but after reading his new books, he finally settled on a name he liked, Salazar. Salazar and Hedwig seemed to develop an easy friendship. Hedwig would bring in dead mice every now and again, which Salazar ate happily. Harry was happy that the two got along, and it made the young wizard wonder what would happen when he reached Hogwarts. He would see Tom again. Along with Blaise! He wondered if Voldemort would like his friend, he hoped so.

Before he knew it, the last month went by and Harry woke up on September 1^st, ready to leave for Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

Train Ride and Sorting

On the day of September 1^st, Harry made sure that Aunt Petunia made him an excellent and proper English Breakfast. When he was done, he pulled out his letter once again to make sure that he would be on time to get to Hogwarts.

On September 1^st, you shall report to platform nine-and-three-quarters in King’s Cross station to board the Hogwarts Express which leaves promptly at eleven o’clock in the morning. Parents and students are advised to arrive early to have enough time to pack belongings on the train as well as find seating.

It was currently only seven fifty-five in the morning, and Harry figured he had more than enough time. But still, he did not want to miss the train entirely, and he needed to figure out exactly where this platform is. So, Harry had Uncle Vernon drive him to King’s Cross immediately, pleased that his and Voldemort’s spell on the Dursleys were still going strong. Still, he couldn’t help but be curious about how the three being by themselves without Harry or Voldemort around would affect them. That was a problem for another day, however.

They reached the station at half-past ten, and Harry had Uncle Vernon take out his luggage on a cart. Hedwig hooted annoyed while Salazar just slumbered in Harry’s pocket. He pushed his luggage into the station and looked around. He found platforms nine and ten easily enough, however, he did not see platform nine-and-three-quarters anywhere. Harry stopped and thought for a moment. Wizards would be in hiding, so it would not be someplace open or obvious, he thought. And, because it was three-quarters, the station must be somewhere between platforms nine and ten.

Harry walked down the station and looked around. There were muggles everywhere. They stood around waiting for trains, some leaning against the pillars while others gathered in small crowds talking with each other. Some muggles glanced at Harry oddly, which Harry did not blame him for because he did have an owl with his luggage. He ignored them then looked down the platform. There were four pillars on the station. Muggles surrounded and leaned against all of them, except for one oddly enough. There were no muggles leaning against the third pillar. He thought that was odd and watched it. Muggles passed by it, none even looking at the pillar. He thought for a moment and moved to a random muggle and asked him how many pillars were on this station. The muggle scoffed and said insultingly, “Three ya idiot, learn to count.”

Harry frowned. Three? There were obviously four! He turned to the third pillar that all the muggles ignored and walked towards it. It looked real enough as Harry circled it. Then he pressed his hand on it and gasped. His hand went through! He looked at the other pillars and couldn’t help but smile satisfied with himself. Three quarters! He thought. He pulled his hand out and backed up to align with the pillar and ran through. He did not brace himself, confident that he was correct. Muggles did not look at him, and the crash never came. Instead, Harry kept running, and on the other side, he ran into a large platform with a large scarlet steam engine waiting for him.

He looked up and saw a sign that said clearly “Platform Nine and Three Quarters,” as if to just confirm once more that he was correct. Above it was a clock, showing he had ten minutes to get on the train. He pushed his cart forward and looked around the crowds, trying to find Blaise.

The first few carriages were already filled, but Harry figured that given the time. He found an empty compartment near the end of the train and put Hedwig in it first and then tried to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps, but he could barely raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot. He tried using magic even, but still, it was too heavy.

“Wand a hand?” A taller boy with red hair approached him, smiling friendlily towards him. Harry nodded, panting a “Yes Please.”

“Oi! Fred! Come here and give a hand!”

A red-haired boy who looked exactly as the first came running towards them. They must be twins, Harry thought. With their help, Harry’s trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

“Thanks,” Harry said, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“What’s that?” said one of the twins, suddenly, pointing at Harry’s lightning scar.

“Blimey,” said the other. “Are you—?”

“He is!” said the first, “Aren’t you?” he added at Harry.

Harry huffed, “Yes, I’m Harry Potter,” he said. The two boys gawked at him, and Harry felt himself turning red. Then, to his relief, a voice came floating in through the train’s open door.

“Fred? George? Are you there?”

“Coming Mum!”

With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train. Harry sat down next to the window. He allowed Salazar to come out, curling on his lap, and he pulled out the small skinny book about Lords and Lordships. He opened the first page and started to read. It was very difficult for Harry, but he tried to power through as he read the first page.

Wizarding Lordships existed since before the Middle Ages. A status for the Sacred Twenty-Eight as well as other well-known and well-connected families, in the modern age the practice of Lordships and Lord Rings have fallen out of practice as the Ministry chose to embrace more Muggle traditions and viewpoints. Instead, only Traditionalists, such as the Sacred Twenty-Eight and other Pureblood Families and Traditional sympathizers observe the courtesy and manners that come with Lordships. These courtesies include, but not limited to, wearing Family Rings, and giving a Family Ring to an intended, working together to preserve old cultural norms that they are in fear of losing, such as the celebration of old holidays such as Yule, Samhain, and Beltaine. Because of this, celebrating these old holidays and Lordships have been declared as part of the Dark Arts in a worldwide conference led by British Minister Nobby Leach, the first Muggleborn Prime Minister, on August 15^th, 1964.

“Excuse me?”

Harry looked up from his book to see a boy around his age with red hair like the twins who helped Harry standing awkwardly. “Anyone sitting here? Everywhere else is full.”

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then at his book before looking at the window quickly, pretending that he hadn’t looked. Harry sighed and put his book away, it gave him a headache reading it, and pocketed Salazar since the snake was still sleeping. The boy seemed to have not noticed the snake, which Harry was grateful of. He didn’t want anyone snitching on him about his illegal pet.

“Oh! I’m Ron by the way, Ron Weasley,” the boy said sticking out a hand. Harry took it.

“I’m Harry, Harry Potter.”

“Are you really?”

Harry nodded and, figuring he would ask, he already moved his hair out of the way to show Ron his scar. Ron stared, opened mouth, and grinned, “Woah,” he whispered. “So that’s where You-Know-Who…”

“Yes,” Harry said, “but I can’t remember it. I was told what happened—but I don’t remember anything.”

“Wow,” Ron said. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

“Are all your family wizards?” Harry asked. “I saw a pair of twins who look just like you.”

Ron groaned, “Fred and George, yeah they’re my older brothers.” Harry hummed at that and Ron asked, “Is it true you lived with Muggles? What was it like?”

“Horrible, wish I had two brothers to live with,” Harry said.

“Five,” Ron said. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. “I’m the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I’ve got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left—Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy’s a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still got really good marks, and everyone thinks they’re really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it’s no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I’ve got Bill’s old robes, Charlie’s old wand, and Percy’s old rat.”

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep. Harry’s pocket stirred and he reached in it to pet Salazar, keeping him inside.

“His name’s Scabbers and he’s useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from dad for being made prefect, but they couldn’t aff—I mean, I got Scabbers instead.”

Ron’s ears went pink. He seemed to think he’d said too much because he went back to staring out the window.

Harry didn’t think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, he’d never had any money in his life until he and Voldemort took control of his muggle relatives. And even then, he did not have money of his own until a month ago. He told Ron as much, leaving out the more sordid details about Voldemort, and instead focusing on living with the muggles and being taught by “a very nice man he met when he was seven.”

“...he told me all about everything I know! In fact, I didn’t even know I was a wizard or about the Dark Lord until he told me,” Harry said.

Ron gasped. “You didn’t say You-Know-Who!”

“Huh?”

“People call You-Know-Who, You-Know-Who! I never heard anyone at all call him by that before!” Ron said, staring at Harry strangely.

“Oh—well, I mean it’s his title, right? He is—I mean was—the Dark Lord,” Harry stumbled through his words. “Anyway, I’m not trying to be brave or anything. It was just what he’s called.” His voice died and he looked out the window as well.

A trolly with lots of sweets passed by around half-past twelve, and Harry brought as much as he and Ron could carry. It was full of treats that he never heard of before: Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pastries, Cauldron Cakes, and Licorice Wands as well as much more. Harry stuffed a pumpkin pastry into his mouth as soon as he sat down and hummed.

“Good, yeah?” Ron smiled.

“Uh-huh—Oh! Almost forgot,” Harry said. He looked at this trunk and stood up. “I have to feed Salazar,” he said. “Help yourself, please,” He smiled and gave Ron three cauldron cakes. Ron busied himself with the sweets as Harry pulled out a treat for Salazar. He held it over his pocket and smiled playfully as Salazar snapped up from his pocket and swallowed it whole. “Good job!”

He returned to his seat and he and Ron enjoyed themselves on the sweats and treats he brought. Harry was happy that their conversations became easier to hold, Ron turning out to be a huge Quidditch fan and took it upon himself to teach Harry everything he knew. At some point, Ron took out Scabbers and talked about a spell that Fred and George told him about to turn the rat’s fur yellow. Harry looked very excited about that and encouraged Ron to do it. They were interrupted by a girl who was already in her Hogwarts robes looking for a toad that a boy named Neville lost. “Oh you’re about to do magic?” she asked when she saw Ron’s wand. “Let’s see it then.”

Ron gave her a look and cleared his throat. “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!” Nothing happened as he waved his wand.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” the girl asked rather bossily. “Well it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was so ever pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is—” Harry quickly tuned her out.

He waved his finger in a circle and smiled at his orb of light, choosing to instead play with that as he bounced from hand to hand, the light changing color. The girl gasped when she saw this, “How are you doing that? I did not see you pull your wand out or anything,” she said.

“I can just do it,” Harry shrugged. “No big deal, I can even make it rainbow-colored.” He grabbed the ball and spun it between his fingers, different colors adding themselves to the orb as he did so. He grinned, threw the orb up high, and with another swirl of his finger it disappeared.

“That can’t be a real spell,” the girl insisted. “You have to use your wand for magic! And there was nothing like that in any of the textbooks I’ve read!”

“It is a spell, and I can just do it,” Harry shrugged, “but don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be better at me than other things.” He offered the girl a smile, but she just huffed and crossed her arms. She left soon after that, and not twenty minutes later, when Harry noticed that the sky outside long turned black, the Hogwarts Express started to slow down, and he and Ron changed into their robes.

The train stopped in a station and as the doors opened, a loud booming voice called out, “First years! First years over here!” A huge man who almost looked like a giant with wild hair and beard stood on the platform with a lantern. He kept yelling for the first years, and Harry and Ron followed the crowd of kids towards him. “That’s right First Years over here!”

“Harry!” An arm quickly wrapped around Harry and he found himself being dragged into a hug s the others started walking. “There you are!” a familiar voice said, “By the dark, I thought you didn’t show up for a second!” Harry looked up to see the smiling face of Blaise Zabini. “I couldn’t find you on the train, come on, come on, I’m not letting you go!”

“Okay,” Harry grinned. He waved to Ron as they walked by him, and he slowed down so he could join as well, but Blaise kept on pulling Harry as the man before them led the First Years through a narrow path that turned a corner and opened onto a lake bed. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

“No more than four to a boat!” the man called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Blaise and Harry got into a boat, followed by a boy with platinum blonde hair and a girl with pigtails. Harry felt a little sad that Ron didn’t join them but figured that they would be together soon enough when they would get to the castle. “Who’s this then, Zabini?” the blonde boy asked rather arrogantly.

Blaise smirked and, with his arm still looped around Harry’s, said, “Only my best friend Harry Potter, Malfoy.”

The girl gave a squawk of a laugh. “Potter? Are you kidding?”

“I’m not, this is my friend Harry! Harry, the girl is Pansy Parkinson, and the boy is Draco Malfoy. Don’t mind them though, their barks are way worse than their bites.”

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you two,” Harry said, offering a smile at both of them.

“I told them all about our shopping trip together—especially your magic,” Blaise grinned. “Come on, think you can show it.”

“Sure,” Harry nodded. He summoned his orbs of light and started playing with them, the lights changing colors as he did so, staying mostly green and silver, however. The others watched in awe, and Harry smiled at that, making the orbs go away easily as they came.

“Potter—what was that?” Draco Malfoy demanded. “Where is your wand? How did you do that?”

“Harry can do nonverbal and wandless magic!” Blaise boasted but Harry shook his head.

“The orbs are easy, they’re just me pulling my magic to the surface. Other spells however are a bit harder. I need to concentrate, whisper the incantation, or outright say it. Even then, it is very difficult. All I can do confidently is the orbs of lights and small balls of fire that need to stay by my hands or else they’ll extinguish,” Harry explained. The other three nodded and Harry smiled. He leaned forward and said, “Actually, one time I used my magic against a muggle, and it was awesome! This man was making fun of these two men and I chased after him and burned his face! It was amazing! Vo—my mentor praised me a lot for it.”

“You hurt muggles?” Draco asked with interest.

“You have a mentor?” Pansy asked.

Harry nodded, “He saved me from my muggle relatives—but we can talk about this later, when uh we’re not too surrounded by people,” he glanced around at the other boats.

“Then when?” Malfoy demanded. “I know that Parkinson and Zabini and I are going to be in the same House, but there is no way a Potter will be in Slytherin.”

Harry’s smile grew, “Actually Draco,” he said sweetly, “I was raised for exactly that.” The other three stared at Harry, stunned silent and Harry hummed as he thought for a moment how amazing it would be if all of his new friends would get into the same house. That thought sent a realization that he was close to Voldemort—closer than he has ever been for the last month! His excitement rose and he stared ahead almost impatient. He missed his master.

The boats all sailed into an underground harbor. The man led them out of the harbor, up a set of stairs, and crowded in front of the huge oak front door. He knocked, and the door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry’s first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

“The first years, Professor McGonagall,” the man said.

“Thank you, Hagrid, I will handle them from here,” Professor McGonagall said. She led the students into the entrance hall of the castle and towards a large set of double doors that were bigger than any of the other doors. She stopped in front of the doors and turned towards them. On the other side, Harry could hear chatter and figured that the other students were already inside.

Professor McGonagall gave them a welcoming speech that Harry somewhat paid attention to. He craned his neck as he looked around slightly, looking for Ron, but the redhead was nowhere to be found. Professor McGonagall’s speech was nothing new, Harry already knew about the four houses from what Voldemort told him, the only one that really mattered was Slytherin, and he already assumed that they would be living together. The house points were new, but then Harry still barely paid attention, even though both Draco and Blaise were listening carefully.

When Professor McGonagall was done, she turned to the doors that opened without a touch, and she led the first years into the Great Hall. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Harry smiled brilliantly as he knew that one of those teachers was holding his Lord.

Professor McGonagall led the first years up here so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students with the teachers behind them. Harry had to fight the urge to look behind him. He was so close to his lord, oh so close! He wanted to see his mentor again, to talk to him! This month was long—too long—and he just wanted to be with him once more.

Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On the top of the stool, she put a pointed wizard’s hat. The hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched.  Rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth—and much to Harry’s horrible it began to sing.

It was a horrible song with horrible lyrics and a horrible tune sung in a horrible voice. Harry completely hated it and wanted it to be over as soon as it started. The other students, however, thought this tuneless warbling was good and clapped for the hat. Professor McGonagall approached the hat with a scroll of names and started to read from it. “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Abbot, Hannah!”

A pink-faced girl with blond pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment’s pause—

“HUFFLEPUFF!” the hat shouted.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. One by one the first years were called, and Harry only paid attention to know when he would be up soon. The girl who walked into his compartment, whose name Harry learned was Hermione Granger, became a Gryffindor. He heard a groan and looked down to see Ron. He smiled and waved to the redhead, who looked too nervous to move. When Draco was called, the hat barely touched his head before yelling “SLYTHERIN!” and Malfoy sauntered towards the table to the far left quite arrogantly. Harry started to brace himself as they got near his name. A boy named Theodore Nott, along with Pansy Parkinson also became Slytherins.

“Potter, Harry!”

Finally, it was his turn. Whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

“Potter, did she say?”

“The Harry Potter?”

Harry sat down on the stool and took a breath as he placed the hat on his head. The hat barely rested on his head when it shouted loudly, “SLYTHERIN!”

Harry smiled and placed the hat down on the stool. The entire hall became silent. Harry walked towards the Slytherin table and looked around the hall only to see strange looks mixed with anger, pity, and mainly confusion. The Slytherins as well stared at Harry, confused, but Pansy smiled and moved so that there was room next to her. “You are so finishing your story tonight,” she whispered at Harry, who nodded.

“Why is everyone not happy I’m in Slytherin?” he whispered back.

“Like I said Harry,” Draco shrugged, “Potters don’t go into Slytherin.” Harry frowned at his words. He stared at the plate in front of him, lost in thought. He only noticed the sorting was done when Blaise sat across from him and grinned.

“Well, I had no doubt Harry, I always knew you were different,” Blaise said. Harry just hummed and looked up at him.

“Uh-huh, but I don’t see why I should be in any other house,” Harry said honestly. He gave his friends a smile and looked at the staff table, knowing that Lord Voldemort was watching him. “After all, I told you guys I was raised for it.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

The Slytherin Coven

“Why is Potter here?”

The older years Slytherin students did not even try to hide their whispers as the school ate. Harry’s feeling of exhilaration at getting into Slytherin, and immediately at that, was quickly crushed as he got strange looks and glares from seemingly everyone around him. The only ones who did not glare were his fellow first years: Millicent Bulstrode, Vincent Crabbe, Daphne Greengrass, Gregory Goyle, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini. Harry has really only gotten time to get to know the last two and Malfoy, Blaise being his first and current best friend and Pansy and Draco shared a boat ride with him. They were all just as excited to be here and properly sorted into Slytherin as it was their families’ House as they kept telling each other and Harry.

Harry just hummed and took the time to just look around and familiarize himself with his fellow year mates. Millicent did not look pleasant at all. She was plump with a mean-looking face that scrunched up as she ate with little to no manners. Harry was glad that she was away from him and wondered if she got into Slytherin because of her mean streak or perhaps she was somehow secretly cunning and intelligent. He had a feeling, however, that it was for the first reason. Draco saw Harry staring at Millicent and asked, “Do you know anything about our families, Harry?”

Harry shook his head and Draco leaned towards him to whisper, “The Bulstrode Family is barely part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. They’re all loud, annoying, and rather dim-witted.”

“Then how is she in Slytherin?” Harry whispered back, glancing at her with a frown.

“Who knows,” Draco shrugged. “Honestly, the family is a laughing stock, however, we do not tell her or them out loud. They are always last to be invited to gatherings.” Harry just hummed and nodded. He looked away from Millicent and then at the two boys next to her. They were both overweight and reminded Harry a little of Dudley. “Those two?” he whispered. “Crabbe and Goyle, right?”

“Idiots, but faithful idiots,” Draco whispered. “They have their uses but don’t expect them to give an intelligent answer. Though funny enough, Crabbe actually started to take up knitting a couple of years ago.”

“Really? That’s useful,” Harry said. “I like to cook actually.”

Draco’s nose scrunched up at that, “Really? Cooking?” he said a bit loudly, “Honestly Harry, you cook your own meals?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Harry said a little awkwardly. He didn’t want to go into detail about why he needed to learn cooking, not right now. “Anyway, I’m guessing they’re part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight too? What exactly is that? I’ve come across that in a book, but it did not explain it.”

“I have this,” Pansy said, obviously eavesdropping on their conversation. “You see Potter, the Sacred Twenty-Eight are twenty-eight wizarding families who were all purely purebloods at least up to the Nineteen-Thirties. But it is rather out of date now. I mean the Ollivanders was listed on it but the current one is a halfblood, along with Millicent, whose family is part of the list. The Weasleys are out—blood traitors—along with the Longbottoms—and the Gaunt Family no longer exists.”

“What about the Potter family?” Harry asked. “My mentor told me that they’re a Pureblood family, and I’m the heir to the Potter and Peverell Lordships, whatever those mean.”

“You’re an heir to Lordships?” Draco asked, shocked. “Potter! Why didn’t you tell us?”

“What does that mean? I don’t know what they are! And the goblins told me it didn’t matter until I’m fifteen,” Harry said. He pulled his small book out and said, frowning, “I even got this book but it’s so confusing, I barely finished two pages.”

“Oh, well I mean…” Draco hesitated. Harry sighed and shook his head, “It doesn’t matter now, I’ll learn about it later.” Harry sounded a little annoyed but pushed it away.

“Anyway,” he turned to Daphne Greengrass, a pretty girl with blonde hair, and smiled, “Are you part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight too?”

Daphne nodded, “Yes, I am, as well as Theo,” she pointed to a small boy with short black hair and pale skin. He just raised a hand at his name and nodded at Harry, who nodded back, “Pansy, and Draco.”

“You’re not on it?” Harry asked Blaise.

He just grinned and shook his head, “Nah, we’re too good for that list, you and me,” he grinned. Harry laughed and smiled at his joke.

“The Zabini Family is a newer addition,” Draco said, “If the list were to be revised, they would surely be on it, especially with Mrs. Zabini’s caliber.”

“My mother is the best,” Blaise smiled. “But you know that already, Harry.”

Harry nodded and smiled. He looked around at everyone around him and felt that he was going to be okay. It did not matter that the other Slytherins were suspicious of him, he was sure that he would win them over eventually. But for now, he was starving. Which reminded him! He placed his hand into his pocket and pulled out Salazar.

“I hate your pocket. And it is too noisy in here, bring me somewhere quiet with a fat juicy mouse,” the small snake complained. Harry chuckled and looked down at the snake, forgetting himself.

“I’m sorry but this was the only way I thought to bring you in. Would you like a bloody piece of beef? Or maybe chicken?” Harry offered, hissing softly.

“Chicken—and an egg if there is one,” Salazar ordered. Harry laughed and looked up, “Blaise can you please pass the chicken?”

Everyone stared at him. “Harry,” Draco whispered. “You… and that snake…”

Oh no, Harry thought. “Uh, I can explain—really, umm but not here with everyone around me. In fact, let’s just forget that this even happened—and I would still like that chicken, please, Blaise.” Harry’s face went crimson and for the first time in years, he felt his scar prickle. He winced at the pain. He rubbed his scar with his free hand and looked at the staff table, where the pain increased. He saw him.

He was right, he did not look the same at all—in fact, he looked completely different, but Harry knew that it was his master. For some reason, he looked like a weedy man who wore a large purple turban. That must have been Professor Quirrell, Harry figured, and somehow inside him was his Lord Voldemort. Harry couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face. Quirrell was currently talking to a man dressed all in black with greasy black hair and a hooked nose. Harry quickly looked away and accepted the chicken, muttering a thank you to Blaise, and began feeding Salazar. The first years watched him for a few moments before moving onto their own conversations, Harry’s ability to speak to snakes never coming up. He was relieved with that and as soon as he finished feeding Salazar, he joined them, Draco, and Theo both interested in Salazar and how Harry smuggled him in there.

As Harry talked, he couldn’t help but feel eyes on him. He looked around only for his gaze to land on the staff table. Professor Quirrell was looking at him with a smirk that seemed unnatural on the man. Harry offed a small smirk back before it faded away completely as the man next to him glared, looking at Harry as though he did not believe to see him sitting where he was. Lastly, sitting at the center of the table, was Albus Dumbledore himself. It was the first time Harry had properly seen the headmaster of Hogwarts. He was wearing a purple robe with large silver stars, and his long hair and beard were both gray. His eyes hid behind half-moon spectacles and he stared at Harry as a grandfather disappointed in his grandchild’s choices. It was a somber expression, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to return it. He just remembered everything Voldemort told him, every injustice and manipulation the man has caused in his life, and anger swept over Harry. The man was disappointed, sad, that he was in Slytherin where he belongs. Who was he to choose where Harry belongs? He was nothing but a monster. Harry's anger quickly gave way to a sick satisfaction and he took his goblet and raised it slightly to Professor Dumbledore, smirking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Professor Quirrell looking amused. He took a sip and looked away from the staff table, and instead busied himself as he told Draco the story of how he got Salazar and Blaise’s new cat.

“My mother loves Salem so much!” Blaise interrupted. “By the time it was to leave, I didn’t know who she was sadder to let go, me or the cat!”

Harry laughed and smiled at that, “I’m glad everything turned out alright,” he said. “Hedwig and Salazar became best friends overnight practically! They give each other dead mice.”

“That’s sickeningly sweet,” Blaise commented, “Salem’s a lazy thing, he won’t chase after anything.”

“I’m sure we can teach him some tricks,” Draco said confidently, “maybe he can chase the Gryffindors around.” That earned him a round of laughs that even gotten Harry smiling. He looked over at the Gryffindor Table and saw Ron Weasley sitting there with his brothers and fellow first years. His smile grew and he waved at Ron, who just returned his wave with a strange look.

When the feast was done, Professor Dumbledore stood up to give the start of term notices. Harry thought that it would be a good idea to listen, so he did his best to concentrate on the old fool as he stifled his yawns. “First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.”

Harry laughed. He was one of the few who did.

“He cannot be serious, can he?” he whispered at his friends who only looked at him unsure. Dumbledore just smiled and took out his wand, and much to Harry’s irritation there was more singing to follow.

Now, it was not that Harry disliked singing, no, the boy liked singing and dancing enough, it was just he would rather let the professionals handle the singing, which was not everyone in Hogwarts. At least Draco Malfoy, it seemed, was able to carry a tune, though he had an annoyed look on his face as he sang. They were finally dismissed, and the first year Slytherins were led by two fifth-year prefects.

“Come on little snakes! This way!” The girl called out; she was tall with long black hair that had several pink stripes. “Down to the scary dungeons!”

Harry held onto Salazar closely as they followed. He saw the Hufflepuffs walk down a corridor on the ground floor while both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor ascend a staircase made of marble. Slytherins were the only ones who went downstairs, into corridors made of stone and cobblestone all lit by torches. Harry instinctively waved his hand and produced an orb of light. “Hey? Who made that light?” the girl called out, “Nice thinking but you won’t need it as soon as you memorize the path. This way.”

She led the Slytherins through the dungeons, turning this way and that, it was rather confusing until Harry noticed, also, that along the walls, carved into individual stone pieces, were snakes that seemed to point the way. They ended at a dead end and the prefects turned towards them, “Right my name is Amelia Selwyn, here is the entrance to our common room. For now, the password is ‘Mandrake Root’ but don’t expect that to be the password for the whole term! It changes every two weeks. There’s more to talk about but first let’s get inside.” She turned to the wall and said, loudly and clearly, “Mandrake Root!”

The wall slid away, revealing a passageway that they all filed in. Harry was right behind Blaise and gasped as he stepped through. The Slytherin Common Room was warm and cozy with torches and candles that all gave a green glow. At the far side, there was a floor-to-ceiling glass window that looked out into what Harry guessed was the lake they sailed on. Fish swam by at a leisure’s pace, and in the distance, Harry thought he saw a humanoid creature swimming as well. There were multiple fireplaces, each surrounded by comfy-looking armchairs and sofas, as well as tables to gather around to study and a large bulletin board.

Amelia Selwyn led them to the fireplaces and said, “Gather around first years! My fellow prefect Terrance Higgs is going to tell you the rules!”

Higgs was a handsome teen with short brown hair and a well-muscled body. He stepped up and looked at them all, “Welcome to Slytherin. Our most important rule here is that Slytherins do not fight each other openly. Any problems you have with your housemates stay in and are settled in these four walls. We have enough problems from the other houses that we cannot afford to fight against ourselves. Slytherins must support each other. Out there, we are a united front against the rest of the Houses. I’m going to be blunt with you all: you will be hated upon just for being in Slytherin. Other Houses will do whatever they think they can get away with just because we are part of the greatest House in Hogwarts. Do not give them the chance. We all must move in groups, and constantly stay vigilant! That said, if something does happen to you, and you cannot retaliate, then you must come to us Prefects or Older years, fifth year and up. We will take care of it.

“Professor Snape, being our Head of House, is also available for situations like these in case you cannot find us. He shall inform the prefects and we shall take care of it through official Hogwarts means. However, if you want to get even, come to us directly,” He and Selwyn shared a chuckled at that. “Furthermore, you will hear countless rumors about Slytherin, how we are the House that is full of Dark and Evil Wizards. Well, that is completely false. Do not believe what the others say, they are just being hateful at things they do not understand.”

“Aptly put, Mr. Higgs,” a voice drawled. They all looked to see the greasy-haired man that Harry assumed was Professor Snape. He was staring at them all, his eyes falling on Harry. “I was wondering if I could… borrow Mr. Potter for a moment,” he said.

“Of course Professor, you heard him, Potter!” Higgs said. Harry jumped and nodded. He looked at Professor Snape nervously and wondered if he already, somehow, broke a rule. Draco patted his back and smiled while Blaise squeezed his shoulder.

Harry stepped away from the crowd of first years, still holding Salazar. Snape saw him and raised an eyebrow, “A snake, Mr. Potter?” he drawled.

“Is he not allowed, Professor?” Harry asked innocently. Snape just snarled and jerked his finger for Harry to follow him. They went through a door that Harry did not see, and they walked into an office. “Sit,” Snape commanded.

Harry slipped into the seat in front of Snape’s desk and petted Salazar nervously. “Sir is there something wrong?” he asked.

“There is, indeed, Potter,” Snape said. “I will be straight and to the point. What exactly are you playing at?”

“Sir?”

“In the past two hundred years, all Potters have been sorted into Gryffindor,” Snape said, “So why is it, Potter, that you are here?”

Harry frowned. “I’m not sure I get what you’re asking,” he said.

Snape growled, annoyed, and slammed a fist onto his desk, “I do not have time for your games Potter! It might have been funny for you to be sorted into this House, however, just know if you even dared to sabotage or purposefully get in trouble, I will make your time here at Hogwarts very difficult.”

Harry was still confused. He thought for a moment and looked at Professor Snape. “I’m still confused,” he said carefully, “are you saying that it is bad that I was sorted into Slytherin immediately? Draco was sorted into here immediately as well. Or is it just bad that I, specifically, am in Slytherin because it’s the house that the Dark Lord was in when he was in Hogwarts?”

Snape inhaled deeply and quickly swooped around his desk, getting on his knees to hold onto Harry’s shoulders tightly. They were close now, too close, and Snape stared at him, almost horror-stricken. “Where did you hear that title?” he whispered.

Harry decided to answer truthfully, after all, he was his professor. “My mentor taught me, and he told me to always call people by their proper titles, sir.”

Snape continued to stare at Harry for a moment. “Do not call the Dark Lord by that title here, boy. You never know who is listening. Only his followers call him that, Potter.”

I mean, then I should call him that because he’s my master and future husband, Harry thought, though he knew better to say it. Still, Snape frowned, and he looked down at the snake on Harry’s lap. “Get out,” Snape said shortly. He waved his wand and the door behind them opened. Harry stood up and gave Professor Snape a polite smile before leaving.

His friends were waiting for him by one of the fireplaces, and he slipped onto a couch between Blaise and Draco. He looked at them and bit his lower lip, “For some reason, Professor Snape thought that me being sorted here was a joke, because my parents and ancestors were always Gryffindors.”

“Well that is true, Potters were famously Gryffindors, but that shouldn’t mean anything,” Daphne Greengrass said.

“She’s right Harry,” Draco said, “Besides, we have more important things to talk about!”

“Oh… right,” Harry said, looking down at Salazar. “I forgot myself in the Great Hall, I’m sorry. Speaking to snakes just became so commonplace to me, and my mentor knew about it so, I just forget that people didn’t know about it, or that it is a rare ability.”

“An extremely rare ability Harry,” Draco said.

“Only the heirs of Slytherin can speak Parseltongue, Harry, and the last known heir was You-Know-Who,” Daphne said.

“I know that the Dark Lord was the last heir of Slytherin,” Harry said. “There’s a lot of things I wish to tell you guys, but I don’t know if I can now. I need—I need permission.” He frowned and thought for a moment. “But I also don’t want to tell you guys nothing so, can I have a moment to think about what I can tell you?” The first years nodded, and Harry smiled. He gave Salazar to Draco to pet, showing the blonde where exactly the snake loved being touched, as he saw Blaise’s cat sprawl over Blaise and Harry’s laps. He reached and petted the kitty absentmindedly as he thought.

The minutes passed as he collected his thoughts. When Harry was ready, he nodded and said, “My muggle relatives were awful. The worst of muggle-kind. They hit me. Locked me in a cupboard for days on end. I actually had to live inside there. I always knew I was different, that I was better than them. I got better grades than my cousin, and I would get hit for it. I would show my magic and they would hit me for it. I was alone, totally alone, until I was saved by my mentor when I was seven.” A small smile appeared on Harry’s face as he thought about Voldemort. “He’s a powerful wizard. He saved me from those horrible muggles, made it so I would never get hurt again. And I won’t. I’ve learned how to reach into my magic from him. It’s how I can summon my orbs; I can also summon small stuff that are across the room. I need to concentrate to do it, but still, I can do it.

“Anyway, my mentor, he taught me everything I know. Magic, the wizarding world, the Dark Lord. He was in Slytherin too, my mentor, and I want to make him proud in everything I do! So I’ve learned, and I’ve talked with snakes. And… I’ve hurt muggles who deserved it. Horrible muggles who would only hurt each other,” Harry hesitated, and his smile went away as the vision of Piers and those black snakes came to his mind. He shook it away and chastised himself. You’re stronger now. Come on Harry!

“Well, by the dark,” Blaise breathed. “We had no idea.”

“Yeah,” Pansy said, “We all were raised on stories about you Harry, but they’re all clearly wrong. We heard stories about how you’re living in a secret palace or learning from the best tutors. None of us could even imagine that you…”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” Draco said confidently, “You’re where you belong Harry.”

“Yeah, I am,” Harry nodded. He then gave a huge yawn and blushed a little, “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Nah mate, I’m tired too,” Blaise said, grinning. “Come on.” He stood up and Harry took his hand. The two led the others towards the dormitories. The first years’ dormitory was huge, with large four-poster beds spread out with their trunks in front of them. There were also personal desks next to them, as well as nightstands. The boys all went to their trunks and beds, Harry’s located between Goyle’s and Theo’s, and changed for bed. Harry made sure that Salazar was comfortable in one of the secret compartments of his trunk on a heated rock. They all said their goodnights and Harry fell asleep as soon as he cuddled into the warm bed.

The next morning, Harry and Theo woke up late. The other boys were already gone, and they had to dress in a hurry as they were missing breakfast. Harry left Salazar in his compartment but made sure that he had food, and left with Theo. “The bed was too comfortable,” Theo said softly, “I’m sorry that I didn’t realize we were so late.”

“It’s not your fault,” Harry said, “I slept in too! And you were right, that was the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in.”

The two young Slytherins made their way to the entrance hall when they ran into a group of Gryffindors. Harry saw Ron was among them and smiled, “Ron! Ron,” he said and ran up to him. “How was your first night?”

Ron sneered at Harry and said, “What are you playing at, Potter? Think you’re better than me because you’re a slimy Slytherin now?”

“Huh? What are you talking about Ron?” Harry asked. “I’m not playing at anything.”

“Shut up, Potter!” One of the older years said, “You’re nothing but a dirty traitor to your family and us.”

Harry didn’t know what they were talking about. He stared at the older years, they looked to be around seventh years, and they were all glaring at him and Theo. Ron gave Harry a final sneer and walked away. “Ron, wait!” Harry called out but as soon as he stepped towards him, he cried out in pain. His arms suddenly stung violently as though hundreds of bees swarmed on him. He cried out and held onto his arms.

“Harry!” Theo said before giving a cry. He fell back as his nose twitched and much to Harry’s horror, a bat flew out of Theo’s nose! Theo cried and his hands slapped towards his nose as they were both hit by a stinging hex again. The Gryffindors laughed and Harry glared at them. Through his tears, he reached out and concentrated through the pain to summon a ball of fire. The Gryffindors’ laughter stopped, and he moved his arm back to throw the fire, only for a cocky boy to step towards them and pointed his wand at the two of them. “Aquamenti!” Water shot from his wand and drenched both first years. The Gryffindors’ laughter roared through the entrance hall and they walked away, congratulating themselves.

Harry glared at them until the students were gone. He moved to stand up and heard sniffling. He turned and saw Theo still on the floor, crying openly. “Theo,” Harry said softly, he rushed to his new friend and hugged him, both their robes were soaking wet, but Harry did not care. Theo latched onto Harry and sniffled loudly.

“I’m sorry,” Theo said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have cried.”

“No! No, it’s okay,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Come on, we should go change, and maybe find a prefect.” Theo nodded and continued to hold onto Harry as they returned to the Slytherin dungeons, both feeling horrible and scared as the harsh reality of their new House’s position settled in.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

The Dark Lord’s Apprentice

A group of sixth years found Harry and Theo. They were still in their wet robes and wincing as their arms still stung. “What happened?” one asked.

“We were attacked by Gryffindors,” Theo said softly. “Harry tried to fight back; he had a fireball but one of the seventh years use the Water-Making spell on both of us.”

“That’s horrible!” a sixth year girl said, “but where are the rest of the first years?”

“We woke up late,” Harry said, “they’re all eating breakfast I think.” The sixth years looked disappointed at that, some shaking their heads.

“Were they not listening?” one complained. “Potter, Nott, go get dressed, we’ll wait for you guys.”

“But won’t you be late?” Harry asked.

“Doesn’t matter, you Firsties need to learn that you need to travel in a pack to stay safe,” the girl said, “No less than three if needed. But all of you should stay together.”

Harry and Theo nodded and ran off to change. The sixth years were still waiting for them when they were done, and together the small group made their way to the Great Hall. The other girl sixth year escorted them personally to their friends and offered a small smile, “Here we are, safe and sound. However you lot, we need to have a talk after classes are done,” she said, glaring at the others. Harry and Theo said thank you and sat down as the others looked confused.

“What was that about?” Blaise asked.

Harry and Theo glanced at each other and sighed. Harry explained what happened and could feel that the mood around them sunk until they were all looking around the hall with an uneasy anticipation. Daphne was the first to break it, “I’m sorry,” she said. “We just didn’t think that it was true.”

“And if it was, that they would do something so soon,” Pansy added. “I mean the whole school bullying Slytherin? It sounds unheard of!”

Harry just nodded and looked at the staff table sadly, “I’ll ask my mentor,” he said. “Anyway, we should be fine if we just move in groups right? Then we’ll do that. The sixth year said that we should never be in groups less than three, so whenever we need to go somewhere, like the bathroom or a professor’s office, we should always bring two people with us.”

“Seems easy enough,” Draco said, he glanced at Crabbe and Goyle and smirked, “Just by the size of these two should be enough to scare anyone.”

“Don’t be mean Draco,” Pansy said lightly. Draco rolled his eyes and Harry shook his head. He and Theo ate quietly, and half an hour later Professor Snape stood from the staff table to hand out the Slytherins’ schedules. When he reached the first years, Snape distributed the schedules silently and they all immediately began sharing and comparing. They all had the same classes, which Harry guessed would only be logical, and sighed when he noticed that most of the classes he was very excited about were with Gryffindor. Most importantly, Harry frowned when he saw that he wouldn’t have Professor Quirrell until Wednesday, two days from now.

Two days could pass quickly, and it was much better than a whole month in Harry’s opinion, so he decided to put that issue to the side and focus on his classes. After all, he would not want to disappoint Voldemort and doing poorly in his classes, especially already at the beginning of the year, would heavily disappoint Lord Voldemort.

Their first lesson in Hogwarts was Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, whom Harry learned from Blaise was the Gryffindor’s Head of House. “And we have the class with the Gryffindors,” Blaise groaned. “At least she doesn’t show favoritism from what I heard.”

Harry and Theo stiffened slightly at the mentions of Gryffindor. Theo looked at the table fearfully while Harry glared at his plate. He flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Blaise smiling at him, “It’ll be okay,” he whispered. Harry nodded and took a deep breath.

When they were all done, the Slytherins moved as a unit. Harry and Theo, being the smallest, stayed in the center of the gang, all of them talking excitedly about what they’re going to learn in the class. Harry in particular was excited to finally use his wand. Using magic with his hands became second nature to the boy, and he wanted to see how it would feet using a wand to use magic.

They found the classroom easily and arrived before any of the Gryffindors. Harry, Blaise, and Theo took the three front desks on the right side and Harry looked around. Professor McGonagall was not around at all. Instead, sitting on the teacher’s desk, was a tabby cat with strange markings around its eyes. Harry stared at the cat. It did not move, instead, it just sat on the desk watching the entrance, as though waiting for all of the students to come in. The Gryffindors filtered in in ones and twos. The bushy-haired girl named Hermione Granger was first, and she too sat at the front on the opposite side of the classroom. Harry checked his watch to see that class should have started a minute ago, but still, there was no sign of Professor McGonagall. Then, running loudly and panting, Ron Weasley and a round-faced boy whose name Harry didn’t remember ran in. “Whew,” Ron said loudly, “Could you imagine the look on Professor McGonagall’s face if we were late?.”

The cat then jumped and as it did so, transformed into Professor McGonagall! Harry stared amazed at that. He wanted to learn how to do it! Professor McGonagall stared at Ron and the other boy for a moment, frowning slightly. “That was blood brilliant,” Ron said.

“Thank you for that assessment, Mr. Weasley, perhaps it would be more useful to transfigure Mr. Longbottom and yourself into a pocket watch? That way one of you might be on time,” Professor McGonagall sassed.

“We got lost, ma’am,” Longbottom said.

“Then perhaps a map? I trust you do not need one to find your seats,” Professor McGonagall said, and the classroom chuckled, the Slytherins laughing slightly louder than the Gryffindors.

Harry immediately had his hand up as Professor McGonagall returned to her desk. She saw this and waited a moment, “Yes Mr. Potter, I would like to begin my lesson today,” she said.

“I just wanted to know how you turned yourself into a cat, ma’am,” Harry said politely, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Yes, well the act of transfiguring yourself into another form, in this case, myself into a tabby cat, is a higher-level form of Transfiguration that is not touched until your third year, where even then you will not practice it as it is a very difficult branch of Transfiguration that needs months’ preparation,” Professor McGonagall explained briefly and Harry nodded, figuring that it all translated to ‘I will look it up and learn it on my own.’

Professor McGonagall looked at the first years and addressed them, “Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.” She then changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all impressed and couldn’t wait to get started, but soon realized they weren’t going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a series of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle.

Harry felt a rush as his magic surfaced inside himself and directly towards his wand. It was much easier to draw on the familiar sensation, but it did feel a little impersonal. Still, by the end of the lesson, he was able to make his match look silvery and pointy. He was the second student to do so, much to his annoyance, as Hermione Granger too was able to make her match silver and pointy as well. He relieved himself by mentally saying that his was shinier.

After Transfiguration, the Slytherins had Herbology with the Hufflepuffs three times a week in the greenhouses behind the castle. It was taught by a dumpy witch named Professor Sprout who smiled and was always in a jolly mood. Harry liked her a little immediately, however, he was certain that she would not be his favorite teacher. The most boring class was easily History of Magic, which they had in the afternoon, which was taught by the only ghost professor in Hogwarts, Professor Binns. Terrance Higgs joked to Harry and the others on Monday night that one day, Professor Binns died while taking a nap and just woke up and floated away from his body to teach.

Professor Flitwick taught Charms, and he was a tiny wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. When he reached Harry’s name on roll call, he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Wednesday came with sunshine, and the Slytherins had double Defense Against the Dark Arts that morning with the Gryffindors followed by a break. Harry was excited for the class, both because he was going to see his Voldemort again, and because he was very excited about the subject in general, it sounded fun!

However, it turned out that Quirrell by himself was a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he’d met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren’t sure they believed his story.

Harry was amazed that he was able to keep his excitement throughout the class, busying himself by taking notes and barely looking up at Professor Quirrell. When class was over, Harry stood up and looked at his friends, “I have a couple of questions for Professor Quirrell,” he said.

“Okay,” Draco nodded. “Crabbe and Goyle will wait with you—”

“Can they wait outside,” Harry said, looking at the two boys in question. They nodded silently and left with the others. Harry saw them step to the side just outside and smiled as the door closed to give the two privacy.

“Mr. P-Potter,” Professor Quirrell stuttered. “D-Do you have a question? I- thought the l-l-lecture was simple enough.”

“I have many questions, Professor,” Harry smiled, “but not exactly with you.” He stepped towards the professor, his smile widening. “You know I never thought you would look so old and cowardly personally. I thought my master and husband would be strong-looking!”

Professor Quirrell stared at Harry, stuttering fearfully before he just froze for a moment. His eyes rolled and his head lulled. Harry frowned and stared at his Defense teacher. Without warning, Quirrell looked back up, his eyes staring at Harry clearly with a cold glare. A smirk that looked unnatural on Quirrell’s face soon appeared and he said, “Harry, is that any way to talk to your Lord?”

“No but I just missed you so much,” Harry smiled. He looked at Quirrell’s body and frowned, “Um, Tom, I want to hug you but…”

“Do not,” Voldemort ordered. “Having to live in this body is to suffer, I do not want this to taint your innocence.”

“Then when you get your own body,” Harry said. “Which reminds me, did you get the stone?”

Voldemort frowned. “No. Quirrell is too insufferable and incompetent. When we got to the vault, it was already emptied. The Philosopher’s Stone is now here.”

“Then let’s go get it—”

“No Harry, we must be patient and careful,” Voldemort said. “The Stone is currently ‘safe’ in a place where no one will stumble upon it. Especially since it is ‘off limits to those who do not wish to die a most painful death.’”

Harry thought for a moment, “You mean it’s where Dumbledore said was forbidden? The third-floor corridor?” he asked.

“Precisely, my little snake,” Voldemort said, and Harry smiled, humming affectionately at the pet name. “The stone is in the third-floor corridor, protected by several safety measures that each professor provided to keep it safe. As of now I only know about Quirrell’s obstacle, a troll.”

“There’s a troll in here!” Harry gasped.

“Yes, and one that we will kill when we go for the stone, but not before we know exactly what each professor provided,” Voldemort said. “Understand?” Harry nodded.

“Good,” Voldemort said. He looked at Harry with a rare prideful smile. “I knew that you would be sorted into Slytherin, Harry,” he said. “But to be sorted instantly? It made me so proud. You are just like me.”

Harry smiled at that. “Thank you,” he said, “I, I really missed you.”

“I missed you too Harry, you are much better company than Quirrell,” Voldemort chuckled. “The man only blabbers and begs for forgiveness. Even worse, his magic is weak. Too weak.”

“Are you okay?” Harry immediately asked. “Do you need my magic? You’ll know I’ll give it, my Voldemort!” Harry produced an orb of light with swirling colors. Voldemort gave him a smile and shook his head.

“No Harry, I am afraid of what would happen if your magic mixes with Quirrell’s. Most likely it will taint and prove useless, or worse it’ll overpower the man’s and his body will fail before we can even get our task here done,” Voldemort explained. “I will find other methods to keep alive, do not worry.”

“If you’re sure,” Harry said, sounding a little dejected. His orb went away, and he gnawed at his bottom lip, “Then if you don’t mind, I have questions.”

“Since when did I mind your questioning, Harry? Ask away,” Voldemort said.

And like a floodgate opening up, Harry took a breath and his gaze at Voldemort turned into a light glare. “I’m mad at you! You made me look like a fool in front of goblins! Why didn’t you tell me that I have a lordship? Or Godparents? Who are Sirius Black and Remus Lupin? Why haven’t I met either one yet? Do they know about us? About the muggles? What are Yule and Samhain? Is there an entire culture around purebloods? And what is all about the Sacred Twenty-Eight? Snape also warned me about calling you the Dark Lord saying that only your followers call you that—why didn’t you warn me that? What would have happened if Dumbledore or someone heard me saying that? Also do you have a Lordship? And—”

“Harry, calm down,” Voldemort snapped. “You are asking too many questions. Focus on one for tonight.”

Harry’s cheeks turned red, and he nodded. His heart was beating fast, and he thought before looking up at Voldemort, “Why didn’t you tell me everything?” he asked carefully.

Voldemort smirked. “Why have I not told you everything, about Lordships and your godparents? Or perhaps even about the whole dying culture of the Dark Arts, the Traditionalists’ holidays, and the dangers the Light Wizards present towards that culture? Or maybe even the tension between the Light and Dark that is led by a harsh hatred that is caused by fear of the strange and unknown?”

“Yes, exactly,” Harry nodded.

“Well Harry, I want you to imagine that you are seven again, no even eight or now at eleven will work,” Voldemort said. “If I told you everything from the moment we met, including the stuff you know now and information I still need to give you, that would be a sensory overload for you. Instead of giving you answers, you would have been lost, which was why I’ve chosen to give you that information little by little, my little snake. I still intend to tell you everything, I promised you that I would never hold information back or lie to you, but if I told you everything, from Lordships and its culture to the Dark Arts and everything that led up to this moment, it would be difficult for you to understand at that moment, honestly. And even now, things will be confusing for you. I did not tell you about Lordships, because I was planning to tell you when you are fourteen, for as I am sure the goblins and your new friends told you, Lordships do not even start to come into effect until you are fifteen years old. As for our culture, I wanted you to meet other wizards first, see their reactions and thoughts on that matter.

“You’ve actually done well in choosing your new friends as you have done. I planned that you would be in Slytherin for those families are the ones most likely to still be celebrating the Old Traditions. That is not to say they are the only ones, but still they are the most likely. Ask them, Harry, and they will give you better resources than I can in this current moment. The thought that The-Boy-Who-Lived is interested in their culture and wanting to be a part of it will help you become accepted into Slytherin House and allow you to reveal yourself more easily as my little snake,” Voldemort explained.

Harry just nodded and looked up at Voldemort, “Um about that… I’m sorry I didn’t think—my friends already know that I can speak Parseltongue. I was in the Great Hall and Salazar was hungry—oh Salazar is my pet snake I got him in Diagon Alley—and I was asking him what he wanted to eat and uhh they heard me.”

Voldemort just hummed and nodded, “How did they react?” He asked.

“Surprised but I think they’re accepting it,” Harry said. “Though I only talked to Salazar in front of them that one time. I told them,” Harry paused for a moment to remember, “I told them that talking to snakes is commonplace to me, but I need to ask my mentor for permission to talk more about it.”

Voldemort nodded once more. “And what will your mentor say?” he chuckled. “You may tell those who you trust the most the following. You have a special connection to the Dark Lord, his magic and yours are forever interconnected. Why exactly is simple: You are mine, and mine alone. However do not reveal that you are Lord Voldemort’s apprentice, not yet. We would rather keep that information for ourselves for now. The walls have ears, after all.”

“Do you think any of them would tell Dumbledore?” Harry asked, afraid.

“Dumbledore? Certainly not. But their parents? That is a different story,” Voldemort said. “Many of their parents are my old followers, Harry. Followers who, in their Lord’s time of need, have chosen to pretend they were coerced into doing my bidding instead of joining openly. We have too much to deal with to even consider thinking about how my old followers will react! So for now, little snake, keep referring to me as your mentor and the Dark Lord but do not connect the two. Not until we have a proper plan to steal the Stone, at least.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. He thought for a moment after checking his watch and looked up at Voldemort, “Can I ask one more question?”

Voldemort checked the time as well and nodded, “We do not have time for me to properly explain what I promised when I left, but of course.”

“Can you tell me one more thing about Adrian?” Harry asked innocently.

Voldemort chuckled. “I should have known you would wonder about that. Let’s see, have I ever told you about how Adrian and I met?”

“No were you in the same year?” Harry asked excitedly.

“We were, indeed, Harry,” Voldemort chuckled. “We were both sorted into Slytherin. Tom Riddle and Adrian Balk. The Balk Family was a small, old family deeply rooted into the Dark Arts. He was my first friend, my actual first friend, and it was he who introduced me to the Old Traditions, something that I’ve eagerly embraced. The others were wary of me, thinking that I was a mudblood, a muggleborn, but Adrian could see that I was so much more. Funny enough, he actually caught me speaking to snakes one day. Promised that he would keep it a secret, a promise that he kept faithfully, and afterwards we immediately began researching into my family.” Voldemort smiled nostalgically. “My innocent snake, I miss him too much. But I know I shouldn’t be too sad, after all, now I have you Harry, and you remind me so much of my Adrian.”

“I’m happy about that,” Harry smiled. “I…” he stopped, his chest felt warm, and his heart was beating really face. He felt emotions he didn’t really understand, and his cheeks turned red. There were words he wanted to say but couldn’t find them, let alone understand them. So, instead, he said, “I’m really happy that you saved me, Master.”

“I’m happy that I’ve saved you too, Harry,” Voldemort said. “You should go now; we will talk later. But for now, I’m afraid I’ll have to give this cowardly man his body back and I must rest.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded, and he gave Voldemort one final smile before leaving. Crabbe and Goyle were still standing by the door and flanked Harry. They started their way to the dungeons, but Harry stopped and told them that he needed to go to the owlery to send a letter. The two followed and, much to Harry’s surprise, they were able to have a nice conversation. He called down Hedwig and quickly wrote a note to his mentor, for appearances sake, and told her to go and hunt a very juicy rat. She flew off, and the three Slytherins returned to the dungeons.

Hedwig returned to Harry during dinner, dropping a letter in front of Harry, stole a bit of food from Blaise’s plate, and then flew off with the other owls. Harry opened the letter and smiled at the cursive writing.

Little Snake we just talked about this. You know what to tell them.

“My mentor told me I can tell you guys,” he said to his friends, so after dinner they gathered around the fireplace and Harry smiled at them. “The reason why I can speak Parseltongue is really simple,” he said. Salazar was on his lap once more, hissing contently as Harry petted him. “The Dark Lord and I, we have a connection, a special and deep connection. Our magic is forever interconnected.”

“Oh, so the gift of Parseltongue is because of this connection?” Draco asked.

“I assume so, yes,” Harry said. “At least that is what my mentor and I believe. There was also something else he wanted me to look into.”

“What is it, Harry?” Daphne said.

Harry smiled and said rather loudly, so those around them could hear, “I want to learn more about our culture and the Old Traditions. Can you guys help me?” The effect was immediate. The older years all stared at Harry strangely, before giving a small nod of approval. Pansy Parkinson looked absolutely ecstatic as she jumped up. “Yes! I know exactly what you should read!” she said. “There’s this book called Dark Etiquette and Rituals that my parents taught me—”

“Really Parkinson? That book?” Terrance Higgs said, snorting. He approached the group and looked at Harry. “Is this true Potter? You want to learn about our way of life?”

Harry nodded, “My mentor told me that it is ours as well, but that you guys would teach me better because we’re living together,” he said, figuring it would be a good explanation.

“I see,” Terrance nodded. He smiled at Harry and motioned for him to stand and walk to him. Higgs slung an arm around Harry and said, “Come with me, that book that Parkinson said is good, but there are others much easier to read and start with. There’s actually a small collection here in this common room. Let’s see about starting you right.” Harry grinned and walked with Terrance towards a bookshelf. “By the way, nice snake, Potter.”

“Thanks, his name is Salazar,” Harry said, petting the snake. Higgs laughed and shook his head, “I think I’m wrong, you’ll fit in just fine here Potter.”

“You thought I wouldn’t?” Harry asked innocently.

“Honestly no, but now that you’re showing this new side of you, I think we can expect interesting things from you Potter,” Higgs grinned. He looked at the bookshelf for a moment before making a noise, “Here we are. These three would be a good start,” he said, pulling out three books. He handed them one at a time. “This one,” he said, handing a book titled History of the Dark Arts “is a good basic history of our people. The next one,” he gave a book called Holidays and Rituals: The Path of the Dark Wizard, “is a comprehensive breakdown of the holidays we celebrate, and the path we all take, and are currently taking, into becoming a Dark Wizard. I personally got two more steps before I’m a complete Dark Wizard, one private and then the Last Ritual,” Higgs grinned proudly. “The last one is great for a budding wizard like you, Potter.” The last book was titled Hexes and Jinxes for the Budding Dark Arts.

Harry make sure to hold them all carefully and smiled, “Thank you, Higgs,” he said. “My mentor will love to hear about this!”

“No worries Potter hope they’re helpful,” Higgs shrugged. He patted Harry’s shoulder and returned to his friends, and immediately started talking about Harry, pointing proudly at the young boy. Harry just smiled and returned to the fireplace, sitting between Crabbe and Goyle. Salazar wrapped himself around Harry’s shoulder and the boy picked up the first book and began to read.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

Revealing Dark

Harry laid in his bed reading one of the three books Higgs gave him. Harry liked this much better than the book he brought, mostly because it was much easier for the eleven-year-old to read. The History of the Dark Arts was interesting, and Harry had a feeling he would not be learning about this in History of Magic.

To understand Dark Magic’s history, one must first understand the difference between Light and Dark Magic. Firstly, most magic used in everyday life, from schoolwork to chores, is categorized as Neutral Magic, as in the spellcaster draw on neither the Dark nor Light to power the spell. Before the Middle Ages, there was little to no distinction between Light and Dark Wizards. Light and Dark Wizards both celebrated the same holidays, learned the same spells, and lived together as a community. However, due to both the rise of Muggleborn wizards as well as the Muggles’ awareness and persecution of wizardkind, a divide began to form between the two types of Wizards, Light and Dark. The Witch Hunts, which lasted from 1450 to 1750, changed the Wizarding Community. Wizards had to go into hiding, and so they turned against each other to blame for the Light’s cowardness.

The Light blamed the Dark for not conforming, for not welcoming their Muggleborn brothers and sisters with open arms, and accepting the Muggleborns’ traditions over theirs. The Light Wizards ignored the fact that the Muggleborns did not try to learn wizarding traditions and holidays, or even to restrain their magic in front of muggles. They became witchdoctors, shamans, killers who would make their villages coward under their egotistic rule. There was no respect for any kind, and so word spread about these ‘evil wizards’ whom the Light named Dark.

The Dark was blamed for the Muggleborns’ ignorance and so the schism between Dark and Light Magic began. Muggleborns and the Light worked together without input from Dark Wizards, and so changes began. First, was changes in Hogwarts. The Dark Arts were no longer taught, and the practices of the Eight Holidays became discouraged.

Harry stopped reading and frowned at the book; The Dark Arts used to be taught here? He wondered. He looked up from his bed to see that the others were mostly asleep, except for Theo. “Hey, Theo,” Harry whispered. Theo just looked up from his bed with a raised eyebrow. “Did you know that the Dark Arts was taught here in Hogwarts?”

“Yeah, until 1356, when the Wizards’ Council—that was the government before the Ministry—forbade it,” Theo nodded. Harry’s frown deepened but he shook his head. Theo gave a yawn and laid back down, “Anyway, I’m going to bed, goodnight Harry.”

“Night Theo,” Harry muttered. He closed his bed’s curtains and laid but couldn’t sleep. So, he thought to read just a little bit more.

When the Ministry of Magic was formed in 1707, their first action was to categorize the Dark Arts and make any practice of these spells a punishable offense. Incidentally enough, due to their own ignorance during this time, they have also outlawed several potent healing charms and spells that were once considered Light simply because they require the smallest of blood from the caster.

And so, with the legislation in place, the now-famous distinction between Light and Dark was set. The Dark Arts now consisted of everything that the Ministry—and to the extent, Light Wizards do not understand or are afraid to consider. Even if those spells would be to their benefit.

“They’re all stupid,” Harry muttered sleepily. “Stupid Ministry… dumb Light Wizards.” Harry had just enough sense to take his glasses off before his book fell on his face and chest, and he began to softly snore.

Voldemort did not talk with Harry the next day after class, and on Friday Harry saw that all he had that morning was double Potions with the Gryffindors, something that Draco was very excited about. “He always favors us,” Draco told Harry during breakfast. “It’ll be fun seeing him knock the Gryffindors down.”

Harry nodded. Though they were not attacked again, what happened to him and Theo was still fresh in his mind. When they were done, the first year Slytherins walked together as a unit once again towards the dungeons to have their first Potions lesson. They waited silently for the Gryffindors to filter in, the last one barely making it in time. Snape, like Flitwick, started class with roll call. And just like Flitwick, he paused at Harry’s name.

“Ah yes,” he said softly, “Harry Potter. Our new… celebrity.”

Crabbe and Goyle snickered behind their hands and Harry turned to glare at them. Snape finished roll call, his black eyes barely glancing at the students as he called their names. When he was done, Snape looked around at the students and said, “You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making.” He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word—like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren’t as big of a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

More silence followed the little speech. “POTTER!” Snape said suddenly. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry blinked, shocked that he was being called out as his brain rattled on, those names sounding familiar. Hermione Granger’s hand had shot into the air. “Uh—a very powerful sleeping potion,” Harry said slowly, “called… The Elixir—no, no, the Draught of the Living Dead,” he said.

Snape made an unamused noise as his lips curled into a sneer. “Let’s try again, where would you go if I ask you to find me a bezoar?”

Oh! Harry knew this! “A stomach’s goat,” he said as Hermione’s hand shot up once more.

“What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?” Snape asked, sounding clearly annoyed.

Harry thought for a moment. They again sounded familiar. Hermione stood up, her hand stretching towards the ceiling. Harry remembered an early lesson he had with Voldemort. They were talking about werewolves, Harry remembered, and Voldemort mentioned several plants that can harm a werewolf. “Wait, sir that’s a trick question,” Harry stated.

“Is it now?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded confidently. “They’re both the same plant.”

Snape just stared at Harry. “It seems that Mr. Potter was smart enough to open a book before the semester began. A point for Slytherin.” He looked at the rest of the class. “Why aren’t you writing this down?”

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Snape paired them off and Harry saw why Draco was so excited to have Potions with the Gryffindors. Harry and Draco were paired together, and the class was tasked to make a simple potion to cure boils. Snape swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing the Gryffindors at every chance he got. Snape barely criticized the Slytherins, but even then the only one he did not criticize at all was Draco. He was just telling the class how perfectly Draco stewed his horned slugs (even though it was Harry who did most of the work for that step) when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville Longbottom had somehow managed to melt Seamus Finnigan’s cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the floor, burning holes in people’s shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

“Stupid boy!” Snape snarled, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?”

Longbottom whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose. “Take him up to the hospital wing,” Snape ordered Seamus. Then, he rounded on Ron, who had been working next to Neville. “YOU! Weasley! Why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? Four points from Gryffindor!”

Draco snickered, “Honestly how can you be so forgetful?”

“It was clearly written,” Harry hummed, “both in our books and on the board—even though Snape’s handwriting is a little small.” He looked at the blackboard where the instructions were written in neat handwriting that Harry had to squint to see clearly. Draco rolled his eyes and pointed at the book.

“That’s why we have these, Potter,” he said. “Anyway, can we finish this? What’s the next step?” He looked down at their cauldron.

“We just stir until it’s pink,” Harry said looking at their instructions. So the two took turns stirring, acting as though nothing had happened at all. For some reason, Harry thought he felt eyes on him. He glanced at the Gryffindor side and saw Ron Weasley glaring at him openly. Harry’s heart sank at that. He was hoping that they would be friends, that they could easily talk out what happened at the beginning of the week, but now Harry felt that it was almost impossible. The other Gryffindors, he noticed, were also giving Harry dirty looks, especially Hermione Granger, whose potion has soft swirling pink smoke rising from it.

When they were done, Professor Snape awarded both Harry and Draco two points on their potion while he just glanced over Hermione’s, muttering that it was “acceptable.”

On their way out, Harry was talking with Draco and Blaise when Ron roughly pushed past him, shoving his shoulder into Harry’s side. “Oi!” Blaise yelled, “What do you think you doing?”

Ron turned around and glared at them, “Nothing,” he spat, “just walking past a traitor.”

“A traitor?” Harry repeated. “How am I a traitor?”

“Come on Harry, let’s just leave the weasel,” Blaise muttered.

“No, no, I want to know,” Harry said. He crossed his arms and glared at Ron. “Please tell me, Ron, how is it that I am a traitor?” he said.

“You really want to know?” Ron asked.

“Would I ask you if I didn’t?” Harry countered.

Ron glared at him then shouted, “You’re supposed to be a Gryffindor! Everyone knows you’re supposed to be in Gryffindor! Your folks are from Gryffindor! And Slytherin is just full of nasty evil dark wizards! It’s You-Know-Who’s House!”

Harry blinked at him for a moment and frowned. “Who do you think you are?” he asked Ron. “That you, or anyone, can say what I am supposed to do? You think I’m supposed to be a Gryffindor? Why? Because my parents were Gryffindor? Or that I should be, like, ashamed or scared that I’m in the Dark Lord’s House? Well, I’m not. I’m who I am Ron, and Slytherin is my House. I am not betraying anyone by doing that—I am being who I am!”

Ron just stared at Harry gobsmacked. He then glared at Harry’s friends and pointed a finger at them, “You’ve done something! You've done something slimy to Harry and now he’s thinking like this!”

“Oh please Weasley, you don’t even know him,” Draco sneered. “Come on Harry, let’s go back to the common room.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. He looked at Ron and sighed, shaking his head. “Want to hear something funny Weasley? I honestly thought we would have been good friends.” Harry turned and left with the rest of the Slytherins, never looking back to see Ron or the other Gryffindors’ reactions.

Draco stayed close to Harry and hummed contently, “You know I like it when you call him that.”

“Who?”

“The Dark Lord,” Draco said. “Father says that we should always refer to him like that.”

“Really? Strange,” Harry said, “So did my mentor.”

The first years spend the rest of the morning in the common room working on homework. After his afternoon classes, Harry was called into Professor Quirrell’s classroom. “Sir, is there something you want to talk to me?” he asked politely as he walked in. Draco and Blaise were waiting outside.

“I’m so happy you’ve decided to call me sir, Harry,” Quirrell said in a voice that didn’t fit him, “however I much prefer you call me by my name when we are alone.”

Harry smiled, “I thought you told me that we can’t talk as much in the open, Tom.”

Voldemort looked around. “We are not in the open, we are in my classroom,” he said. “But sit down, Harry. It is time that I start telling you some of my secrets I promised you.” Harry grinned and sat down eagerly. Voldemort chuckled and shook his head. “Both you and Adrian remind me of excitable puppies,” he said. Voldemort moved to sit across from Harry.

It was strange staring into a stranger’s face, but Harry could still recognize his lord when Voldemort talked to him. He still held that rare gentleness that Voldemort held only for him, and his lips smirked in a manner that was distinctly Lord Voldemort. “What have you read, so far, about the Dark Arts, Harry?” he asked.

Harry thought for a moment, “Not a lot,” he admitted. “Just that a schism happened between Light and Dark Magic following the Witch Trials. But I didn’t know what schism meant so I had to look it up—do you know how hard it was to find a dictionary in the library? All the Ravenclaws had them so I had to ask this boy named Terry Boot if I could borrow his for a bit. So after I learned what schism meant it means that basically because of the witch trials the Light and Dark Wizards started to move away from each other because the Light Wizards and Muggleborns blamed the Dark Wizards over the Muggleborns showing off and starting the witch trials to begin with.”

“And the schism caused tension that grew and festered until, in Nineteen Sixty-Four, the Dark Arts became officially illegal,” Voldemort nodded. “It’s good that you have a basic understanding of its history, Harry, however, I was wondering if you knew about the magic itself that the books taught.”

“No, Lord Voldemort, I haven’t reached that part yet,” Harry said.

“Very well,” Voldemort nodded. He thought for a moment. “The spells I’ve taught you so far Harry, from your orbs of light and fire which you can bring out on command to the hexes and jinxes that you’ve used on those muggles are all technically considered Dark Magic. They are unregulated magic that the Ministry is afraid to handle. However, the Dark Arts are much more diverse than just your orbs and can be much more lethal. The Imperius Curse which you’ve tried to cast—against my explicit instructions if memory serves correctly,” Voldemort and Harry shared an amused smile, “is an obvious example of the Dark Arts. There is however another example, much more darker and dangerous than the Unforgivable Curses, and that is what I want to talk to you today.”

Voldemort took a breath and stared at Harry, “What I want to talk about is an object called a Horcrux. You see Harry, in the most basic terms, it is possible for a person to sever their soul and place the piece of the soul into an object so as to obtain immortality. To do so requires killing without remorse as well as a ritual that I dare not go into detail now.”

“So you made a Horcrux? That’s how you’re still alive?” Harry asked curiously.

“I did not make a single Horcrux, Harry. I’ve made several,” Voldemort said. He held out his fingers as he began listing, “The first was my diary, when I was sixteen. Then was the Gaunt Ring, a family heirloom that I stole from my useless uncle. The third Horcrux I’ve made was Slytherin’s Locket, one of our heirlooms, my little snake. Followed then by Hufflepuff’s Cup a few years later. The last one I’ve intentionally made was Ravenclaw’s Diadem, in the fifties, I believe. My soul has been split into six parts, however, I wanted more. My goal, Harry, was splitting my soul seven ways, for Seven is a powerful number.” Voldemort paused and stared at Harry.

Harry stared back, his eyes shimmering as he followed along. “Do you… do you have your seven pieces of your soul?” he asked carefully, his brain working miles a minute. Voldemort nodded. “I do indeed, my little snake.”

Voldemort reached towards Harry only to stop before he actually touched him. “You, Harry, are my final Horcrux.”

“I’m your Horcrux?” Harry breathed. “You mean a piece of you is inside… me?” He looked up at Voldemort.

The Dark Lord nodded. “I did not mean to; however I theorize it is an aftereffect of the events of that Halloween Night.”

Harry just nodded. Voldemort’s soul is inside of him. His soul split because Voldemort killed his parents. He has his master inside him. Harry’s hand moved towards his scar, and a pleasurable tingle shocked his fingers. He smiled. “Thank you,” Harry said. “Thank you for telling me, and for trusting me with this.”

“You are not angry?” Voldemort asked, raising his eyebrow.

“Why would I be angry? I have a piece of my master inside me,” Harry smiled. “That’s the best thing that can happen.”

Voldemort chuckled, shaking his head ruefully, “You are a strange one, Harry Potter,” he said. Harry just grinned at that.

“Strange enough to be your husband one day?” he asked.

“If your feelings remain the same,” Voldemort hummed. His smile turned sad, and Harry moved in closer. He did not hesitate and hugged Voldemort, knowing that Voldemort did not want him to touch him while he’s in Quirrell’s weak body. “Harry?”

“I’m not technically touching Quirrell, just his clothes,” Harry muttered. “You look sad Tom; I couldn’t help myself.”

Voldemort chuckled, “I apologize. I was thinking about Adrian.”

“What happened to him?” Harry asked. “I know he died, and you don’t want to talk about it, but…”

“Keep holding me,” Voldemort ordered, “and I will tell you.” Harry nodded and buried his head on Voldemort’s chest. The two moved so they were more comfortable. Voldemort sighed and kept his hands on the desk before him so that he wouldn’t touch Harry’s hair with Quirrell’s hands. “Adrian died because of a sickness caused by magical exhaustion,” he began. “My sweet Adrian was always a fragile boy. Weak, yet still so strong in the Dark Arts. As I told you, Adrian was the one who introduced me to the Dark Arts, and when we were fourteen we began dating. His father, a powerful man, despised me. Thought I was corrupting his son with our close ‘friendship.’ We couldn’t be open, Harry, it was a different time back then. You remember the muggle couple you tried to save? The two men?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded.

“We could not even hold hands back then,” Voldemort lamented. “If we did so, it would have been a death sentence for both of us. Still, that did not deter our love for each other. We made plans for after Hogwarts. We would secret away and live in bliss as we planned and explored the Dark Arts. Plans that unfortunately never happened.” Voldemort paused. He swallowed and his eyes started to water. Harry hugged him tighter, and Voldemort’s hand moved to his shoulder, taking extra care to not touch Harry’s skin.

“It was after our graduation,” Voldemort said. “We were seventeen and lived together for a month. Adrian suddenly collapsed and I immediately brought him to St. Mungo’s. He was diagnosed with a rare sickness, Magical Exhaustion to the Core. His magical core was strained and started to reject his body. I was heartbroken. There was no cure, I vowed everything I owned for a treatment but then his father took over. Vincent Balk. If there was a man I hated more than Dumbledore, it was him. Balk took my Adrian from me. The Healers told me that he was taken home to be tended to in private. I tried to follow, but the wards around the Balk estate locked me out. I sent letter after letter, and only received silence in return. For months I received no word until on my birthday, a letter appeared. It was from Vincent Balk.”

Voldemort paused again and Harry hugged him tighter. “What happened?” Harry asked, his heart tightening in his chest as he felt his cheeks getting wet from tears he didn’t know he was crying.

“It was short, so short. All it said was that Adrian was dead and buried.” Voldemort shook his head as he finally cried. “I was angry, Harry. So, so angry. I should have been with him. I should have been there in his final moments! I should have been fighting tooth and nail to save my little snake! But I wasn’t. And now, Adrian is gone, he is in a place I can never follow him to because of my own hubris.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered. “I’m so sorry.” Master and apprentice sat together, hugging in silence for what felt like an eternity. Voldemort collected himself and patted Harry’s shoulder.

“Thank you, my little snake,” he said. “We don’t have the time to cry now, however. We still have plans to make—and homework to do. I want you to keep on top of your schoolwork Harry, understand? Due essays and papers will not be an excuse for when I need you.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. “I promise.”

“Good boy,” Voldemort said. They both stood up and Voldemort still held Harry’s shoulders. “I am currently working on finding out Professor McGonagall’s trial. I also heard that the gamekeeper has added his own protection.”

“Gamekeeper?”

“That oaf Hagrid who lives at the edge of the grounds in his little hut,” Voldemort said, grimacing. “Unfortunately, he was a classmate of mine. But, that is not a story worth telling. Behave now Harry and remember to make me proud.”

“I will,” Harry promised.

Harry did as he was told. He made sure that he was always on top of his assignments, even going as far as helping Draco with his Defense Against the Dark Arts homework in exchange for the Malfoy heir to help him with Potions. Flying lessons started during the second week, and Harry and his friends were shocked to see that Harry was a natural on the broom, of course, he did not show off during class but he, Blaise, and Draco snuck out afterward to fly around the Quidditch Pitch. Three weeks into the semester and Harry was quickly becoming a bit of a darling for his professors. He came into class curious, yet polite, and always ready with the answers if he had them. Harry would not call himself the best in their year; however, he was always one of the first few to get the spell that they were practicing that day. Professor Flitwick, in particular, loved him. One time, the tiny professor caught Harry playing with his orbs of light and was so fascinated with Harry’s skill that he awarded Harry twenty points and insisted that he would show the rest of the class.

“See here everybody! Mr. Potter is not even saying an incantation! It is all in the proper movements,” Professor Flitwick squeaked excitedly. “Conjuring an orb of light is a fifth-year spell, Mr. Potter!”

Harry blushed, “I honestly don’t know how I can do this Professor,” he said honestly. “I just reach into myself and pull at my magic. It’s like it’s a part of me, and I just move it into what I want to do.”

“And that is exactly what spellcasting is, Mr. Potter! Drawing our own magic and channeling it throughout the body to do extraordinary things,” Professor Flitwick said. “Have another point for Slytherin for that wonderful explanation of spellcasting.” Harry smiled at that and the ball of light vanished with a flick of his wrist.

Near the end of class, Professor Flitwick was at his desk writing down a small note, “Harry?” he called, “would you please do me a favor and bring this note to Professor McGonagall? I would like to know if I can borrow one of her classrooms for the seventh years.”

“Yes, Professor Flitwick,” Harry said. Draco and Blaise stood up with him, but Harry smiled, “I’ll be fine, we have her after this anyway.” The two shrugged and sat down. Harry took his stuff with him and got the note from Professor Flitwick, who muttered a thank you.

Harry walked out of the classroom and began running as soon as he was sure he was out of earshot. He felt brilliant! He earned Slytherin Twenty-one points all because of something he can do naturally! Harry smiled as he ran down the corridors, turning at the corners and soon he reached the marble staircases. He remembered how he, Pansy, and Daphne all took their first weekend to memorize the staircases and figure out all the trick steps. He rushed down one staircase and started humming to himself as he gripped the banister and started going down the second.

A force pushed Harry. He flew a couple of inches away from the steps, and his happiness turned to shock as those few seconds of weightlessness seemed to last minutes. He barely blinked as before him the stairs waited for him to fall.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

A Slytherin’s Revenge

Everything hurt. Harry could feel throbbing and stinging in places he didn’t know existed as he just laid in a dark abyss. His eyes were too heavy to open, his teeth ached like he hadn’t brushed them in a long time, and his fingers spasmed. He thought he could hear voices. They seemed far away, so far away that he couldn’t even begin to make them out. Slowly, however, the voices started to sound louder, clearer, and the distinct loud cry of Pansy Parkinson broke through the darkness.

“What do you mean he tripped Professor? There is no way that Harry tripped over stairs! We spent the entire weekend memorizing the staircases, we know them frontwards and backwards! Harry did not trip!” Pansy screamed.

“Ms. Parkinson, please calm down,” came a grandfatherly voice. Harry assumed it was Dumbledore and his stomach gave a roll. “We are not going to suggest foul play over what appears to be clearly an accident. Mr. Potter was running down the staircase, while he was supposed to be in class if I may add, and had a misstep.”

“He was out of class because Professor Flitwick asked Harry to bring a note to Professor McGonagall,” Draco said.

“Still, Mr. Potter should have been careful down the stairs,” Professor Dumbledore said, “Unless…” he sounded doubtful, and Harry feared for a moment that he was looking at his friends strangely.

He figured that now would be a perfect time to interrupt, so even though everything was still hurting Harry gave out his loudest groan which was still barely above a whisper. He forced his eyes open and the world around him was blurry.

“Harry!”

He looked around through his eyes to see blurry faces staring at him. “Draco?”

“I’m here,” Draco said. “Here, your glasses. The blurry face moved away for a moment and Harry closed his eyes as he felt his glasses gingerly slide on him. He opened his eyes again and saw clear worried faces. Draco, Pansy, and Blaise were by his bed as well as, strange enough, Professor Dumbledore and Snape.

“Harry m’boy, you’re awake,” Professor Dumbledore smiled, “You took quite a spill there. But you’ll be careful on the stairs from now on I hope?”

“Sir, I was pushed,” Harry said. “I felt two hands pushing me.”

Dumbledore frowned, but Professor Snape stepped in. “Then we will investigate the matter,” he said. “If it is true that Mr. Potter has been pushed down the stairs, then we will take the… appropriate measures. In the meantime, since he is up, I believe that Mr. Potter can return to class.”

“But sir—he should stay in bed!” Blaise argued. Snape gave him a harsh look before looking at Harry. “You have only been unconscious for barely half an hour.”

Harry opened his mouth, but his body was still throbbing in pain. He was saved, however, from talking as a woman bustled in, saying “Stop crowding the boy all of you! Albus, Severus you both should be ashamed of yourselves for crowding the boy. Potter, accident or not you are not leaving that bed until I say so.” She forced everyone to step away from Harry’s bed and started fussing over him.

“Where am I?” Harry asked and she stopped.

“The Hospital Wing obviously, Mr. Potter,” she said. “You can call me Madam Pomfrey, and I would rather you not become a regular patient here. Luckily for you, you have nothing broken—only sprained bones which can be mended in a heartbeat!” She waved her wand around Harry for a moment. She flicked her wand away from them and a blue potion came floating towards them. “Sit up now Mr. Potter—nice and gently now, there you go,” she said as she rearranged the pillows for Harry to sit. “This will not taste very nice now but drink up. It’ll help you with the pain.”

She gave Harry the potion and Harry drank it. She was right, it tasted horrible. Like stale bubblegum mixed with chocolate. He grimaced at the taste, but as soon as the taste was gone, so was his pain! “Thank you,” he said, amazed.

“Not to worry, you are not the first to fall down stairs,” Madam Pomfrey said. “As soon as you’re able to, you’re free to go. However, take the stairs more carefully next time.” She nodded and left, giving both Dumbledore and Snape a heated look.

Dumbledore smiled and clasped his hands, “Well it seems that everything has tied up nicely. We will of course look into the matter, but in the meantime, we all should return to class. Let us see,” Dumbledore looked around for a clock. “Ah! Precisely eleven twenty-seven in the morning. And you all have Transfiguration, yes, I shall send a note to Professor McGonagall to excuse your tardiness.” Dumbledore took out his wand and with a simple wave, a piece of paper appeared. He wrote on it and the paper folded itself into an airplane that flew out of the hospital wing. “I hope you all have a safe and enjoyable rest of the day,” he said and left. Snape gave them a look and followed after.

Blaise, Draco, and Pansy all crowded Harry again, helping him out of bed. “Did you see who pushed you?” Pansy asked.

“No,” Harry frowned.

“We should have come with you,” Draco said quietly. “We’re so stupid—we shouldn’t have listened to you and gone with you I’m sorry Harry!”

“Draco, it’s fine. I’m fine, everything is fine,” Harry sighed. “Come on, let’s just go to class, we can talk with a fifth-year afterwards and see what we can do.”

Harry and the others found Terrance Higgs talking with a group of fifth years in the common room after Transfiguration Class. “Potter,” Higgs smiled, “how do you like the books?”

“Good,” Harry said, “but I need something. Something I was told to report to you about.” Terrance raised an eyebrow and Harry began to explain what happened to him that morning. “I don’t know who did it, or even how to find that out—but I know that Dumbledore won’t do anything.”

“You did the right thing coming to us Harry,” Terrance smirked. “Don’t worry, we’ll find out who pushed you, and then, well, we’ll get to have some fun.” He ruffled Harry’s hair and he smiled. “In the meantime, keep reading those books I gave you, okay? What part are you up to?”

“Uhh the chapter explaining how a person becomes a Dark Wizard,” Harry said.

Higgs smiled, “Good chapter, I’m doing my last ritual on Samhain with Amelia, so make sure you pay extra attention.”

“I will,” Harry promised. He went to the boys’ dormitory, got his book, and returned to sit with his friends as they completed Charms homework that Harry was excused from. He opened his book and found the chapter where he left off and began to read.

The wizard’s journey into the Dark Arts properly begins at age thirteen. On the Samhain of their thirteenth year, the wizards who all wish to walk down the path of Dark Magic must all complete the Ritual of Intent. This is a magical and joyous occasion in which the wizards let themselves be known to Dark Magic. Details of how to perform the Ritual can be found in Professor Viktor Zwigoff’s Dark Rituals where the Professor gives excellent histories of the Rituals as well as explicit steps for their successful performance. Two months after the wizard has given their Intent to Dark Magic, they are then announced to the community on Yule during the Ritual of Announcement. This allows all Dark Wizards to know they are not alone, even if they have done their Intent as such.

Harry stopped and looked up at his friends, “Are all of you planning on doing the Ritual of Intent when we’re thirteen?” he asked. “The book just mentioned it.”

“I am,” Blaise said immediately.

“I am as well,” Draco nodded, and the others all agreed one by one. Goyle surprised Harry by saying, “We can do stuff before then too.”

“We can?” Harry asked and both Crabbe and Goyle nodded.

Blaise explained further, “We can’t start our journey, but there are still ways we can celebrate the holidays. I’m really excited to do it honestly! We need a wand to do them.”

“Samhain’s is going to be creepy though,” Pansy frowned. “Talking to the dead? No thank you.”

Harry stared at her, “Wait what?”

“Oh yeah, on Samhain we can talk to the dead,” Pansy said, shrugging. “It sounds super gross if you ask me. The dead should stay, well, dead. What is the point of even talking to them?”

“Well I personally would want to see my uncle again,” Blaise said a little sadly. “He was my mother’s little brother.”

“What happened?” Harry asked before he could stop himself. “Sorry—I mean, uhh if you want to talk about it, that is…”

“It’s fine,” Blaise shrugged. “I uhh still don’t understand it. My mother told me that he was sick but didn’t tell me how or why. He died one day when I was nine.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Harry said. He reached to take Blaise’s hand. Blaise smiled at the movement and shook his head.

“I’m fine now, really, but it still would be nice to talk with him, you know?” he said. Harry nodded. It would be nice to talk with the dead, at least to see how they are, or let them know that he’s alright. His thoughts drifted to his parents, who he never even saw a picture of before now that he thought about it and felt a little sad. He would love to have the chance to talk to them, even if it is just once. But he still had a month to even be near that. So, he pushed those thoughts to the side, and, still holding Blaise’s hand, continued to read.

After the Ritual of Announcement, there are thirteen Rituals that the hopeful prospects must undertake. These rituals are both rituals that must be performed individually or in a group of two or more. These thirteen rituals all function to open the individual to Magic and the Dark Arts, committing their mind, body, and soul to Dark Magic. It cumulates on their Final Ritual, which must be performed on one of the four Darker Holidays (for more information on the Holidays and the Wheel of the Year refer to Magical Year: The Celebration and History of the Wheel of the Year by Camilla Warrick) and is a major celebration meant to be with friends and family, as the wizard comes to age in the eyes of Dark Magic and accepts Magic fully. Due to the rituals needed to perform, Dark Wizards would traditionally do their Final Ritual in the Samhain of their fifteenth or sixteenth year, to connect the beginning and end of their training in an everlasting circle. However, there are some wizards who would argue that Yule, and not Samhain, would be the more fitting date to complete their journey as it is the darkest day of the year, as well as when Dark Magic is at its strongest. This author’s personal opinion is that both holidays are perfectly acceptable. It should also be noted, though rare, some Dark Wizards have chosen to begin their journey after their thirteenth year, which this author personally finds a little strange.

“What’s the Wheel of the Year?” Harry asked.

“What?”

“The Wheel of the Year, Daphne,” Harry said, looking at her. “This book mentioned that and a book to read about it.”

“They are the eight holidays that witches and wizards used to celebrate, and now only Dark Wizards celebrate,” Daphne said. She placed her quill into her inkpot and counted on her fingers, “Let’s see, going in order from closest to farthest, there’s Samhain, Yule, Imbolc, Ostara, Beltane, Litha, Lammas, and Mabon. They were all replaced with the Muggle holidays for obvious reasons.”

“Because of the schism between the Light and Dark, and the Light and Muggleborns blaming the Dark Wizards,” Harry said, remembering what he read. “Which caused Dark Magic to be officially outlawed in uh 1964.”

“Yeah, that,” Daphne nodded. “You remembered all of that from just reading? I’m impressed!”

Harry’s cheeks tinted and he gave a shy smile, “I’m good at remembering,” he muttered. “At least when what I’m reading is important and interesting.”

The others all hummed, and Blaise smiled brilliantly, squeezing Harry’s hand. “And people had doubt that you wouldn’t be a Dark Wizard,” he said. “By the dark Harry, if you keep this up I think you’ll go through all your rituals before you’re even fourteen!”

“No, I’ll spread them out,” Harry hummed. “At least that’s what the books say I’m supposed to do. I have to read the other books that Higgs gave me and find Victor Zwigoff’s Dark Rituals to read more about them. And Camilla Warrick’s Magical Year.”

“Oh god Harry, you sound like a Ravenclaw talking about books so much,” Draco said, scrunching his nose up.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said in a soft voice, “It’s just—this is all very interesting, and I want to know more. And I have to learn all of this to catch up with you guys! As well as free up some of my time so I can learn how Professor McGonagall turned into a cat so I can start learning that as well and—”

“Potter stop, you’re making my head spin! We’re not even in October yet just take it easy,” Draco groaned.

Pansy and Daphne laughed at the Malfoy heir. “He’s right you know,” Pansy said, “We have seven years here, you can spread all of this out, you don’t need to learn everything immediately. Besides, you have more important things to worry about!”

“Like what?” Harry asked, “I didn’t forget anyone’s birthday did I? Or is there a celebration that I didn’t know about—”

“No, I’m talking about your hair, it looks like a rat’s nest,” Pansy said, giving a good-natured laugh. Harry’s blush grew and he patted his hair.

“I didn’t think… To—my mentor never said anything bad about it,” he stuttered.

“And that is why we have to figure out how to deal with it,” Pansy said.

“But first maybe we should finish our charms homework? We only have ten minutes left for the break,” Daphne suggested, and the others agreed. Harry was still blushing. His hand patted his hair once more and he did his best to pull some of his hair down to his eye level. He guessed it was a bit long and unruly, but he never really thought about it. Besides, if he was honest with himself, he kind of liked his hair long.

It took Higgs and his friends three days to find out who it was that attacked Harry. Harry decided that it was probably best to not tell Voldemort about the attack. He could handle it by himself, even though he is having the Slytherin’s help, and he didn’t want to disturb the man. It was now October first, and Higgs pointed out to a group of sixth-year Gryffindors during breakfast. “It’s the blonde one who looks like an ape,” Higgs said, pointing to a burly-looking teenager who was laughing loudly with his friends. "Hufflepuffs overheard him gloating to his friends how he used Depulso, the pushing charm, on you. One of them told a Ravenclaw friend, who then promptly told me once she heard I was looking around.”

“What’s his name?” Harry asked.

“Benjamin Doyle,” Higgs said. “So Harry, what do you want to do to him?”

Harry thought for a moment and smirked. “Public humiliation?”

“Lovely,” Higgs smirked. “Just say the word, Potter and we shall humiliate.”

“Why not now?” Harry asked. “I’m sure we won’t get caught, too many people.”

“Adventurous, not many Slytherins would like that, but I always love a challenge,” Higgs smirked. He and Harry pulled out their wands and Higgs raised an eyebrow, “Do you know any spells?”

“One,” Harry said. “It is not a spell but more of an emotion. There was this muggle girl in my school named Susan Ugliano, I made her pee herself a couple of times. I just need to concentrate.”

“Oh nice,” Higgs smirked, “but let’s save that for last. Firstly, let’s see about his hair. The lion takes too much pride from his mane.” He waved his wand under the table and whispered something. Harry watched Doyle and snickered as he saw the Gryffindor’s blonde hair slowly turn, darkening into a ridiculous shade of purple. When his friends noticed, they laughed and pointed it out. Doyle just stared at them, confused, before someone gave him a mirror and he gave out an angry noise of terror. Higgs and Harry laughed, and Higgs waved his wand again. Silver and green feathers started to sprout from his clothes, looking as though he was wearing a ridiculously large feather boa wrapped around his body. Doyle screamed, earning the attention of the hall, and slammed his fist on the table. “WEASLEYS! I KNOW YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO DO ABOUT THIS!” he yelled at the top of his voice.

The hall went completely silent as every student turned to stare at the sixth-year Gryffindor. Fred and George Weasley were just staring at him confused, but that didn’t stop them from failing to cover their laughter. Professor McGonagall stood from the staff table and said, “Mr. Doyle! That is not how we conduct ourselves while we are eating!”

Harry pointed his wand at Doyle and concentrated really hard. Imagining that the boy’s bladder was filled to the brim and he couldn’t control it. He felt a rush of magic and smiled victoriously as he knew it worked. Doyle stood awkwardly, and from Harry’s seat, he could see the teen’s pants darkening from the pee.

“Oh my god! He peed himself!” someone yelled, and the entire hall screamed with laughter. Benjamin Doyle’s face looked like an apple wearing a purple wig with how red he blushed, and he ran away from the hall. The students kept laughing, Terrance and Harry hardest of all. Even after Dumbledore stood to demand order, Harry and Higgs kept on laughing well after they were done eating.

“Brilliant! Oh Harry mate, I think I might love you!” Higgs laughed. Harry just smiled pridefully at that as he wiped away his tears.

After breakfast, Harry couldn’t help but recount what happened to his friends when they heard a voice from behind them. “Potter!” Harry turned to see Ron glaring at him. “Think what you did was funny you slimy git?”

“Looks like you’ve been upgraded Harry, you’re no longer a traitor,” Pansy said. “Just a slimy git, congratulations.”

“What do you want Weasley?” Harry sighed. A small crowd started to gather around them, mainly the first and second years. Harry could see many Gryffindors that he recognized.

“They’re making you do bad things! I know you did something to Doyle,” Ron said, “I saw you laughing!”

“The entire school was laughing at him, Weasley,” Draco drawled. “Or were you too busy stuffing your face to notice?”

“Shut up Malfoy! You’re the one who corrupted Harry!” Ron said.

“Weasley, will you shut up?” Harry groaned. “I told you already, do not assume to know me. Come on, I don’t want to be late to Herbology.” Harry turned to leave. He only took a couple of steps before he heard Ron yell.

“Don’t make me do this!” Ron yelled and Harry turned to see Ron pointing his wand at him. Harry raised an eyebrow and drew out his own wand.

“Harry,” Daphne whispered, glancing at Weasley.

Harry turned and smiled at Daphne, “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay. What’s the worst that can happen? Weasley can barely even do the Knockback Jinx we learned yesterday.”

“I’ll show you—Flipendo!” Ron yelled. The spell hit Harry in the back and he only stumbled into Daphne and Theo, who caught him.

A dark expression took over Harry. His eyes seemed to change, losing their friendly glint as he scowled. “Not. Nice. Weasley,” he said slowly. He turned around and jabbed his wand at Weasley, yelling his own “Flipendo!” Harry’s spell was much quicker than Ron’s and hit the Gryffindor with enough force to have him knocked clear off his feet and skidding on his butt away from them. Harry stepped forward and moved his wand to cast another spell when they were stopped.

“Mr. Potter! Mr. Weasley what is the meaning of this?” Professor McGonagall yelled. “Dueling! In the hallways? Have you forgotten yourselves?” The Gryffindors who stayed to watch quickly ran away while the Slytherins stayed.

“Professor, Weasley hit Harry in the back with a spell!” Pansy said quickly.

“It does not matter who struck who first Ms. Parkinson, the point of the matter is that they both decided to use magic out of the classroom and against one another,” Professor McGonagall said. “Ten points from each of your houses gentlemen, and detention with me tonight in my office at seven. Now both of you get to class—and do not even think of doing something like this again!” She gave both Harry and Ron a sharp look and walked past them, tutting to herself.

“Way to go, Weasley, you got us in trouble,” Harry muttered. “I’m glad I don’t have any classes with Gryffindors today, I don’t think I can stand looking at your face after this.”

“Whatever Potter,” Ron muttered. “Stupid slimy prick.”

Harry ignored him and went back to his friends, taking Blaise’s hand. “Come on,” he said a bit too roughly, “I don’t want to be late.”

Harry stayed in a bad mood for the rest of the morning. He apologized to his friends, but still, there was an uneasy feeling around the small boy. Every now and again he would glare at the Gryffindor Table and scowl. Homework and his books did little to distract him as the day decided to go on forever. While he was in class, Harry was eerily quiet, only answering questions if the professors asked him directly, but otherwise he just worked on the spells they were learning and wrote his notes in silence.

At fifteen to seven, the first years were back in the common room when Harry stood up and announced that he was off to detention. Blaise and Draco accompanied him, and the three walked all the way to the fifth floor where Professor McGonagall’s office was. They arrived at the same time as Ron, who just sneered at them. “What? Can’t go anywhere without a posse Potter?” he asked.

“Just shut it Weasley,” Harry sighed. He turned to Draco and Blaise and smiled, “I’m not sure how long this will take, but I’ll see you back at the common room.”

“Are you sure? We can wait—”

“That will not be necessary Mr. Zabini,” Professor McGonagall said from her doorway. Harry didn’t even know that it opened. “However thank you and Mr. Malfoy for escorting Mr. Potter here. I assure you that he can find his way back by himself.” She turned to address Harry and Ron, “Inside you two.”

Harry and Ron walked gloomfully into her office. Inside were two desks next to several filing cabinets that were filled to the brim with papers all neatly organized, however, the file cabinets on the other side of the office looked to be in total disarray. They both sat down at the desks and waited for Professor McGonagall. Ron bent to pull out a piece of parchment, but Professor McGonagall stopped him. “That will not be necessary Mr. Weasley, you two will not be writing lines today. No instead, you will help reorganize the filing cabinets that Peeves have decided to knock over. I would like everything to be organized by year, student year, and House. The two of you may begin.”

Harry gave a soft groan and began to pull out his wand. “No magic, Mr. Potter. You will do all of this by hand. Now please begin,” Professor McGonagall said and she started grading papers on her desk.

Harry nodded and pocketed his wand. The boys started their work in silence, giving each other heated looks as they worked on different cabinets. It was annoying mentally meaningless work, but at least Harry’s hand won’t be throbbing at the end of the night. He barely glanced at the papers that he was organizing. Student information from twenty years ago, papers from seventh years who graded a decade ago, lesson plans and reports, all of it were thrown around the floor. Harry found a paper that his dad wrote for fifth year. He was surprised that he didn’t feel sentimental about it, besides the fact that both he and Harry had the same chicken-scratch handwriting.

The time went by slowly, so slowly, and Harry stubbornly remained quiet through it all, even after Ron started trying to talk to him, whispering his name. “Potter, hey Potter. Harry…” An hour went by and Professor McGonagall addressed them once more.

“That is enough boys. You may go.”

She waved her wand and the rest of the papers all sorted themselves neatly into the file cabinet, leaving the floor clean. Harry and Ron stood up and shouldered their bags before leaving. As soon as they were out, Ron said, “This was all your fault, Harry.”

“My fault? My fault! Try again Weasley,” Harry said, “we wouldn’t even been here if it wasn’t for you!” He started to walk away but Weasley followed him, so Harry continued his rant. “I was perfectly fine with just walking away but you just had to try to use a Knockback Jinx on me! One that you can’t even perform correctly—I mean were you even thinking?”

“Well you shouldn’t even be in Slytherin!” Ron yelled.

“Are we still on that?” Harry groaned.

“You were so nice on the train Harry, this isn’t you,” Ron insisted. “I mean honestly you’re acting so different now!” They reached the marble staircase and began descending as the staircases started to move around them.

“Different?” Harry laughed. “Different? You think I’m acting different? Let me tell you something Ron, I am acting like I always have. And yeah, I was nice to you on the train because I was being friendly. Do you know what that is? Friendly? I wanted to be your friend, you seemed like a nice guy and your brothers are nice as well, so I thought why not? And then when I got sorted you were the one who stopped everything!”

“That’s because you’re not a slimy Slytherin, they did something to you I know it! The older years told me—”

“The older years pushed me down a set of stairs—oh and also set stinging hexes to me and Theo,” Harry said. “Hell! I’m surprised they haven’t done anything else yet but that’s only because we learned that we need to walk in a pack. Otherwise you stupid Gryffindors and who knows who else would pick us off!”

“They’re evil wizards!” Ron argued. “They’re all dark and evil wizards Harry, it’s dangerous! We Gryffindors are the good guys!” Both boys were not paying attention where they were going as their argument echoed throughout the marble staircase. The stairs moved around as they liked and Harry and Ron just walked, moving up and down floors, until they were both obliviously lost. They were now going through doors and corridors.

“Oh that’s just rich,” Harry said giving a laugh, “Gryffindors are the good guys? Then I guess the good guys constantly bully kids smaller than them and jinx people behind their backs.”

“At least you know that we’re hexing you! That sixth year didn’t even know it was you and that other slimy Slytherin,” Ron said.

“What? We did no such thing, Weasley, you’re mental,” Harry muttered. He stopped for the first time and frowned. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know,” Ron said, “You made us lost or something.”

“And here we go blaming the Slytherin again,” Harry said, he rolled his eyes and opened the door near him. “Come on, I think this is the way back.” He walked through the nearest door, Weasley following him. They walked down an empty corridor with a single door at the end. When they reached the door, Ron turned the doorknob and scowled, “It’s locked.”

“Move Weasley,” Harry said, pushing him away. He pointed his wand at the door, “I’m positive the staircase is behind it. Alohomora!” There was a small click and Harry opened the door easily, the two walking in. Harry immediately wished he didn’t.

They did not walk onto the marble staircase, but into another corridor. The forbidden third-floor corridor and Harry knew immediately why it was that it’s forbidden. They were staring straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads, each staring and growling at the two students, showing three full sets of sharp teeth.

They both screamed and scrambled for the door behind them. They ran out and Harry slammed the door shut. He did not care that he was running with Weasley, all he wanted was as much space between him and that demonic dog! Weasley led the way, going through random doorways and turning corners, even long after they couldn’t hear the dog’s barking anymore. Somehow, they ended up on the marble staircase once more and they leaned against the banister as they caught their breath.

“You just had to say that,” Ron panted. “’I’m positive the staircase is behind it’ as if Potter, it’s a miracle you didn’t get us killed!”

“Don’t you dare blame me for that Cerberus! You were the one who got us lost,” Harry panted. “Know what? I’m done. It’s getting late, I’m tired, I still have an essay to finish for Professor Sprout—goodbye Weasley. Do me a favor and try not to get me killed again.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

Samhain

Harry told Voldemort the first opportunity he had about the Cerberus. Apparently, he knew and was planning to observe the beast on Samhain. “I am sorry that I will not be able to be with you my little snake, for your first Samhain, however, I think it would be more beneficial if you celebrated with your friends instead of assisting me,” Voldemort said in a tone that left no room for argument.

So, reluctantly, Harry agreed. Any thought of the three-headed dog quickly fled away, and Harry and Weasley went along with an unsaid agreement to never bring it up. Harry focused on his classes and friends and read the books he was assigned by his housemates, and before he knew it, Harry woke up on a very sunny Samhain morning.

It was the weekend, which meant that they had no classes. After breakfast, the Slytherins all retired to the common room where they relaxed and read and talked about what they were going to do later that night. Terrance Higgs and Amelia Selwyn both gushed about doing their Final Ritual while Draco and Theo were discussing what they could do. Harry started to feel restless near lunch, so he stood up and stretched, “I’m just going to walk around a bit,” he said.

“Stay in the common room,” Blaise muttered, deep in talks with Daphne and Pansy. Harry just nodded and proceeded to ignore his best friend’s request.

Harry did walk around the common room for a bit, smiling and waving at the older years whom he knew. He slowly and subtly made his way to the entrance, slipping out when he was sure that no one was looking. It wasn’t that he wanted to get in trouble or was looking to play the victim in case some older students found a lone Slytherin alone. He just needed air and space to think.

He made his way to the entrance hall only to hear whispering. “No, no Fred up a bit more you can still see the balloon a bit!”

“Higher up and it’ll take too long to fall, George, you got the hair changing potions?”

“Course I do!”

Harry walked into the entrance hall only to see Fred and George Weasley fiddling with the doorway to the Great Hall. He looked up to see dozens upon dozens of balloons all orange and black. “What are you two up to?” Harry asked curiously.

The twins stopped and looked at Harry, “Well if it isn’t the little Slytherin Potter!” Fred said. “Ron’s got a lot to say about you.”

“So many awful things! But we don’t think you have two heads, at least we don’t see your second head do we, Fred?” George asked.

“Absolutely not George, but it is a bit mean that he keeps getting into arguments with little Ronnie,” Fred smirked.

“But then again ‘ittle Ronnikins can be a bit of a pig,” George said, giving a nostalgic sigh, “Just like Percy.”

“Or Bill.”

“Or Charlie.”

“Or any Weasley man really.”

“Except us, Fred.”

“Oh obviously, because we are perfect, George.”

“Stop, stop I’m getting a bit confused,” Harry said, shaking his head. “What do those balloons even do?”

“Just a little Halloween trick, you naughty Slytherin,” Fred said. “You see, we decided to be nice Hogwarts students and help everyone else get into the Halloween spirit. George, you got a spare potion?”

“Of course I do Fred,” George said, and he pulled out a small vial from his pocket. “Took a long time to make these. Perfectly harmless and tastes like butterscotch.”

“Ew,” Harry said, grimacing at that. “Couldn’t you make it taste better like treacle tart?”

“Why would we make them taste like treacle tart?” George asked.

Harry shrugged, “I like treacle tart,” he said.

“Well you don’t even need to drink it; it works on contact!” George said.

“What does it do? You still didn’t tell me,” Harry said.

The twins just grinned at him, “Well Potter why don’t you just take a step forward and see for yourself?” Fred said. The two stepped away and made a sweeping motion towards the door. Harry looked between the two, frowning, before shaking his head. “I think I would rather see the potion fall on Draco and Blaise and see what happens,” he said.

“Throwing your friends under! So heartless,” George said dramatically.

“Indeed, George,” Fred nodded.

“No, I just want a good laugh,” Harry shrugged.

“So do we!” Fred and George said together. “We saw what you did to that Doyle kid, great work that, making him pee himself and change his hair? Classic!” Fred gushed.

“What do you mean? I did nothing,” Harry said innocently. “Anyway—”

“Finally! I caught you in the act!” The three turned to see Argus Filch, the castle’s caretaker, glaring at the Weasley twins. He stepped forward with a cat following him. “Just you wait till Professor McGonagall hears about this. I might actually be able to bring the chains back out again! Oh, those were the good days, hanging children like you by their thumbs and ankles—that’s the way it should be.”

Harry blinked at him and looked at the twins who just smiled innocently. “Excuse me, but why are you putting my friends in trouble?” Harry asked, stepping between them. “We were just talking; they weren’t doing anything wrong at all.”

“Oh yeah? Then what’s that bottle in their hands?” Filch said, pointing an accusing finger at the twins. Harry turned and saw the bottle of potion that was still in George’s hand.

“Oh! That’s actually for my hair,” Harry said. “I wanted to experiment with my hair, trying a different color or maybe a different style. George and Fred just made the potion for me, it’s no big deal.” He walked towards George and took the potion from his hand and turned to Filch. “It tastes horrible though, like butterscotch, but it really is supposed to be used on your hair. I would offer you to try some but…” he glanced up at Filch’s balding hair, the man only had a few sad wisps of silver hair left. Harry just smiled through it and opened the bottle, “If you have a mirror I’ll show you that it’s for my hair.”

Filch scowled and looked between the three of them. He shook his head and muttered angrily as he walked away. Harry waited until he was certain that the caretaker was far away and turned to Fred and George, “So what would have happened if I put this on my hair?” he asked.

“Oh Harry you brilliant snake,” Fred laughed. “Look at you, looking out for us defenseless Gryffindors.”

Harry shrugged and looked at the potion bottle, “So again, what would happen if I poured this on my hair, or Draco’s?” he asked.

“Simple! To help get you in the Halloween mood, the potion changes your hair into black and orange,” George said. “It lasts all night too!”

Harry grinned, “Wicked,” he whistled. He corked the bottle and shook it slightly, “Can I keep this?”

“Depends, what are you going to use it for?” Fred asked.

“Draco,” Harry shrugged. “And Blaise. And Pansy. Vincent, Gregory, Daphne—no wait she would actually kill me. So yeah, just Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Vincent, and Gregory.” The twins stared at him and laughed.

“You want to prank your fellow snakes? Why?” George laughed.

“It’ll be funny,” Harry said, smiling. “Besides, we’re not all heartless.”

“Oh brilliant, so brilliant,” Fred said. The twins stepped towards Harry and slung their arms around his shoulders, “So Harry, how about you have lunch with us? You seem like great fun.”

Harry looked between the two and thought for a moment, “One condition,” he said as he raised his hand. “If you try to do something, I’ll burn your clothes.” He flicked his hand and a small orb of fire appeared, orbiting around his fingers.

“Woah,” Fred said, giving a low whistle. “You got to teach us how to do that, but not to worry nobody would dare to try to do something to you with us around!”

“Except maybe Cormac.”

“But he just stares mostly.”

“And whines about exercising.”

“He has nice arms though, and his ass is looking great,” Fred smirked.

“Ehh, he’s too annoying to be my type, Fred,” George shrugged.

Harry just shook his head and sighed, “Well then lead on,” he said. “I’m going to be having an earful for this either way, so I might as well have a full stomach.”

The twins smiled ruefully and still with their arms around Harry’s shoulder, they led Harry down into the Great Hall. Harry looked up at the balloons and frowned, “Why didn’t they fall?”

“We got them timed, clever little charm, they’ll fall around six,” George explained.

“That’s amazing!” Harry said honestly. Gryffindor Table was already half full of students eating their lunch. Harry stuck out like a sore thumb in his Slytherin robes, a small green boy being escorted by the two lanky Weasley twins. They walked towards the third-year Gryffindors and Fred moved from the other two and overexaggerated making room for Harry, including pulling out his wand and transfiguring a fork into a feather duster that cleaned the seat. “Your seat, Slytherin Harry,” Fred said, bowing low.

Harry laughed but smiled, taking Fred’s offered hand. “Thank you, Gryffindor Fred,” he said. He sat down with a Weasley on either side. He looked around at the Gryffindors around him and swallowed any and all fear he had, giving them a polite smile. “Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said.

“Why is Potter here?” a girl immediately asked.

“Simple Alicia, we asked him to,” Fred said.

“Harry here helped us out of a tight spot with Filch, so we decided to pay him back and secretly seduce him back to the good side,” George grinned.

“Just don’t tell him, he might use his Slytherinness to turn it around,” Fred smirked. Harry just shook his head and looked at the girl named Alicia.

“I’m just here for lunch, honest, and the twins seemed like nice guys, honestly. Way better than their brother,” Harry said. “I tried to befriend Ron on the train, but after my sorting he just sort of moved away from me.”

“Eh, Ron’s a prat anyways,” Fred shrugged.

“Too stupid for his own good, can’t see the wicked goodness if it was in front of him,” George said. “Which is exactly what Harry is! Wicked, but good.”

“Any other Slytherin would jump at the chance to get us in trouble, but not Harry,” Fred said, “He’s special, aren’t you Harry?”

Harry blushed but smiled. “Actually all the Slytherins are nice, at least to me. I mean yeah they were a bit hesitant, but I won them over, at least I’m friendly with a couple of older years.”

The third-years around them just hummed and stared at him for a moment. “Then why are you even in Slytherin?” a boy asked. “Oh, uhh I’m Lee Jordan by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Lee,” Harry smiled, causing Lee to blush and the girls to giggle at the Gryffindor’s blush. “Um, I think it’s because it’s the house best for me? I mean I know that my parents are both from Gryffindor but, that doesn’t mean that I have to be in it, or that it’s a major part of my personality right?”

“I guess so, it’s just weird, you know, you in You-Know-Who’s House,” Lee shrugged.

Harry frowned and shook his head, “Honestly, I don’t think about it like that. I think of it as me being in my mentor’s house.”

“Mentor?”

“Oh! Yeah, my Mentor!” Harry smiled. “He’s the best! He’s so nice and kind and handsome—ohh,” Harry’s cheeks reddened, and he licked his lips embarrassed. “It’s a bit to explain.”

“Well tell us, Harry!” Fred said, “Come on, we all want to know the backstory of the great Boy-Who-Turned-Snakey.”

Harry nodded and smiled, he loved talking about Voldemort. “I lived with muggle relatives, my mum’s sister, and her husband and son. They were awful, really awful. Everything I did got me in trouble. I hated it. They were terrible, always yelling at me… hurting me. But then when I was seven, met my mentor! His name is Tom, and he is the best! He took me from my horrible relatives and taught me everything I know. He gave me a home, praised me for all my grades, and whenever I master a new thing. He’s just simply the best!” Harry grinned so brilliantly that the Gryffindors around him couldn’t help but smile back.

“That’s so nice! And he was in Slytherin?” the other girl asked.

“Uh-huh,” Harry nodded. “And I want to make him very proud! I’m not saying that he’s the reason why I’m in Slytherin but, the hat didn’t give me a choice. It was just to be.”

“Oh, I see,” the girl nodded. “We heard rumors that like the Slytherins bewitched the hat!”

Harry shook his head, “No, it was all me,” Harry said, and before he could stop himself he continued. “And one day I told Tom that I’m going to be his husband!”

“That is so cute!” the girls gushed.

“Woah—what! Harry!” Lee Jordan said. “You can’t be serious?”

“I am,” Harry nodded. “I told him so even! And he told me that if my feelings are the same, he’ll consider it.”

“Woah Harry—how old is he?” Lee demanded. “Please don’t tell me you just offered yourself to an old man or something!”

“He’s not old!” Harry said, “He’s only a few years older than me. We live together with his dad.”

“Oh, then he still goes here?” Alicia asked and the third years all looked towards Slytherin Table. Harry thought for a moment and shook his head.

“Uh no he doesn’t go here anymore,” he said.

“Oh, so he goes to another school? Like Durmstrang?” Fred asked.

“Yeah, exactly,” Harry nodded. “He was here for a year or two, but his dad transferred him to Durmstrang.” He wondered what Durmstrang was and decided he should look it up later. The twins nodded.

“Makes perfect sense,” George said, “but Harry, marriage!”

“Oh shut it, I think it’s sweet, right Katie?” Alicia asked.

“Very sweet,” Katie smiled. “Oh I can see it, Harry you would look so cute in a suit, or maybe a gown?”

“He has the height,” Alicia chuckled. Harry just nodded along and smiled. The rest of lunch went by strangely well. The girls continued to gush at him and made adorable sounds whenever he brought up Tom, which caused Harry to blush even further. Near the end of lunch, Harry had them all laughing, and he was genuinely enjoying himself. He looked up now and again at Slytherin table to see his housemates giving him strange looks. He just smiled and waved before mouthing ‘later’ at Draco’s confused expression.

“Fred! I think the world is ending,” George said, “We actually made friends with a Slytherin.”

“Yeah, whatever will we do?” Fred sighed.

“You can actually look up hair products for me?” Harry suggested. He patted his hair and smiled, “Pansy would love you guys for it.” He stood up and looked at them, “Anyway, it was nice meeting you all, and Fred? George is right, it should be a bit higher.” He waved them goodbye and went towards the Slytherin table. Terrance Higgs stood up automatically and met him halfway.

“Would you care to explain?” he asked.

“Just making friends,” Harry hummed, “and I think I actually like those two, they have a brain. Shame about their younger brother though.” Terrance snorted and shook his head, “Potter you are full of surprises. Anyway, just wanted to make sure you get here safe, see you later tonight.”

Harry nodded and sat with his friends, immediately telling them how exactly he got to sit with the Gryffindors, and everything that they talked about. Draco scowled even after Harry told them, and he made sure that Harry was next to him for the rest of the day, going as far as to go to the bathroom with him.

The Samhain celebrations were to take place at night. The Slytherins agreed as a house to leave the common room at eight at night, and Harry spent the rest of the afternoon wondering how it was that they would all leave the dungeons and into the forbidden forest without being seen. He asked Terrance this as they walked for dinner, and Marcus Flint only chuckled, “You’ll see Potter.” Harry just hummed. And went back to his friends.

“Make sure you’re the last to enter,” he said, looking at the great hall’s doors. He couldn’t even see the balloons, which made him a little happy that the twins took his advice.

“Why?”

“You’ll see,” Harry said and there was an immediate scream as a Hufflepuff girl walked into the great hall only for a balloon to fall onto her head, the potion splashing over her hair and turning it a very vivid orange. “My new friends,” he smiled, giggling at the girl.

The Slytherins all took their wands out and formed a barrier over themselves and the first years. They walked in as a unit, the balloons falling on their heads but bouncing off of the barrier and slashing elsewhere.

“No fair you sneaky Slytherins!” Fred yelled, “Where’s your Halloween spirit?”

“You gave us too much time Fred! Should have made the balloons fall faster,” Harry yelled back.

“Okay! Thanks, Harry! We’ll get you next time!” George yelled and the two twins laughed.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. Students from most houses had black and orange hair, thanks to Fred and George Weasley, but that did not seem to ruin the cheer in the room. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term feast. Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. “TROLL! In the dungeon! TROLL IN THE DUNGEON! Thought you ought to know.”

He fainted.

There was an uproar. Harry just sat calmly as he took some bite from his potato. So that’s how he’s going to get to the dog, he thought idly. Dumbledore took control, shooting out firecrackers from his wand to gain silence. He ordered the prefects to escort their houses to the dormitories immediately, and the Slytherins moved swiftly.

Once they were back inside, a seventh year whose name Harry has forgotten said, “Right all! It’s seven, we got an hour before we have to leave. Make sure you are all ready.”

“What about the troll, Travers?” Pansy asked.

“We have a direct tunnel into the area of the forbidden forest we can use for rituals, Parkinson,” Travers explained. “It’s been here since almost the founding of Hogwarts. One more thing First years, you might see people from other Houses. Don’t bother them. They’re out there doing the same thing we’re doing.”

They nodded and food appeared on their study tables. The Slytherins all finished eating in silence and the first years all gathered around each other to talk excitedly about what they were going to do! It was true that they were too young to do any rituals, but that did not mean that they couldn’t talk to the dead! Pansy was still freaked out about the thing but shot down Harry’s suggestion that she just stays behind. “No Potter! I am a future Dark Witch! What kind of example would I be to our future younger years if I miss out on this?”

Harry just shrugged as an answer. A few of the older years disappeared for a moment, coming back wearing thick black cloaks that covered their faces. At precisely eight, the seventh and sixth years all organized the house, students who were going to participate in the night’s events all lined up while those opting to sit out, who was only a couple fourth years who had a cold, waved them goodbye. Harry’s mind went back to the troll as they were led towards the common room entrance however before the door opened, a seventh year pulled out her wand and tapped the doorknob two times. She opened it and led the Slytherins through.

Harry and the first years followed excitedly, and Harry held back a gasp as he walked through the doorway and, instead of stepping into the Hogwarts Dungeons, he stepped out of an old wooden shack with broken windows in the middle of a forest. “What happened?” he asked.

“We went through our secret tunnel,” Amelia Selwyn said, smirking at Harry. “We’re in the middle of the Forbidden Forest now.”

“Who made this?” Blaise asked. They looked around and saw three other shacks, two of them had their doors closed but one other’s door was open like theirs with a Ravenclaw stepping out of it here and there. The shacks were all in a small clearing where moonlight illuminated them all. The two closed shacks furthest from them looked overgrown with ivy and moss, while the two still in use were much cleaner by comparison.

“The Headmaster and old Heads of Houses a long time ago,” Amelia informed them. “I’m guessing you all know about the tension between Light and Dark Wizards?” Harry nodded with the rest of the first years. They all stopped to listen to the prefect. “Well before that, rituals for our holiday were celebrated in the open. The Rituals for both Light and Dark Wizards were celebrated as a school along with the muggle holidays, however that alienated the Muggleborns. So when the tension began to rise, the professors and headmaster made those four shacks, one for each House, and told the students that if they wanted to celebrate our holidays in peace, they have made a safe space deep in the forest. We’ve been using it ever since.”

“Why four?” Pansy asked.

“Sheesh, you Firsties are so questionable this year,” Amelia said.

“It’s for the four Houses,” Harry answered, looking around. He frowned, “I think I remember reading about it. The one we went through is Slytherin’s obviously. The other one with the open door is Ravenclaw… and the last two are Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.”

“Exactly Harry, good on you,” Amelia nodded. “And obviously, there has not been a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff celebrating the Dark Arts in almost two centuries! Which is a shame really, but what are we going to do?” She shrugged and shook her head, “Anyway, I have to go get ready with Terrance! You Firsties have fun, okay.” She gave them a smile and ran off.

Harry turned to the others and asked, “So what now?”

Theo answered by pulling a piece of paper from his robes. “I have the instructions to talk to the dead,” he said. “It’s very easy. We have to make a circle, see, and then make a fire in it—”

“Is there any blood?” Pansy interrupted. “I am not doing this if there’s any blood.”

“No blood,” Theo said, shaking his head. “Just a circle and fire, along with the incantation. We do this all right, think about who we want to see, and they will appear to us.”

“Can we see who the others thought of?” Daphne asked.

“Uh no, at least the book doesn’t say anything about it,” Theo said, frowning slightly as he looked down at his piece of paper. “Come on, let’s go find a private space.”

The group walked off into the trees. Harry looked around excitedly. It seemed that everyone has sectioned off into either small groups or themselves in order to do their rituals. He saw Amelia and Terrance with the rest of the fifth years and some sixth years standing in a circle. Others were standing in front of fires, giggling, and talking happily to a hazy thing that Harry could not see. There was a couple of Ravenclaws and Slytherins performing rituals together, and further back Harry’s cheeks turned red as he saw a Ravenclaw girl and a Slytherin girl kissing in front of a roaring fire.

There was no sinister or dangerous energy around them, no fearful or careful moods. No hushed whispers. People were laughing, talking excitedly, and, for that night, the Forbidden Forest seemed jovial.

The first years found a perfect place surrounded by trees, but still in view of their hut. Crabbe and Goyle drew the circle, large enough that they could all stand around it, and then Theo took his wand and then glance at Harry. “Can I have a little light?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded and flicked his wrist. A shining ball of light hovered over them and Theo smiled a thank you before he began to draw what looked to Harry as a complex set of runes that was on his page. When he was done, Theo had Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise gather pieces of wood which he placed in the center.

Theo looked sheepishly at Harry and glanced at the small pile. “Err…”

“Don’t worry,” Harry smiled. He flicked his left hand and a ball of fire appeared. “I have to get close though, so excuse me.” He stepped to the edge of the circle and started to lean over so that he wouldn’t ruin the drawings. He reached his hand out and tossed the ball of fire, which landed directly into the pile of sticks. The fire grew and Harry dismissed his ball of light as he smiled at his friends in the firelight.

“It’s so good having a Potter around,” Pansy sighed. The others nodded in agreement and Harry blushed.

“I’ll lead because I know the words,” Theo said, pocketing his piece of paper. “Just hold each other’s hand and think of who you want to see. You’re going to feel magic sort of push through you, and the fire is supposed to get bigger. Don’t panic during that and just keep holding hands. And just repeat the last thing I say, it’s in Latin.”

Pansy looked around the group and grimaced. “I’m not holding Crabbe or Goyle’s hands,” she said immediately. “Or Millicent’s.”

Harry had completely forgotten that Millicent Bulstrode was there. He did his best to keep his interaction with her as short as possible to none at all. Daphne scoffed and took Pansy’s hand. “Harry, can you take her royal highness’s other hand, please?”

“No far! He’s my best friend,” Blaise said, grabbing Harry’s hand. Harry shook his head and took both of theirs.

“Happy? Can we do this now?” he asked. The others started to gather around, holding hands around the fire. Harry took a breath and cleared his mind as best as he could, thinking about the parents he never knew. He wanted to meet them, at least see their face, he wanted an image to along with their names.

Theo cleared his throat and the others stilled. “We stand as a circle never-ending and eternal. We stand here with magic, never-ending and eternal. We call upon Dark Magic to bring our lost home. We ask humbly for Death to grant us our request and let the dead visit for just this night! Per Tenebris ego imperium!”

Harry felt a force wave through him. It felt welcoming, heavy yet not overwhelming. It filled his body and Harry felt the familiar sensation of his magic being drawn. He let it happen and stood his ground as the sensation extended through his hands into Pansy and Blaise. “Per Tenebris ego imperium!” he yelled. The others yelled as well and the fire in front of them exploded, towering over them by twice their height before coming back down to a safe level. Next to him, he heard Blaise gasped, “Uncle?” He looked both sad and happy and squeezed Harry’s hand. Harry tried to see who Blaise was talking to, but all he saw was a hazy mist. The mist spread around them, and their voices were all gone. Harry could still feel Blaise and Pansy’s hands holding his. He tried to move them but couldn’t as though their hands were all frozen together.

He looked forward, expecting to see his parents but just heard a shaky groan like the voice was gargling rocks. “Potter. Why must I always be haunted by Potters?” The mist condensed in front of Harry, turning black as it mixed with the smoke from the fire. From the black mist, a figure came, wearing a tattered black robe that covered his face. The figure stared at Harry. “Why must you always plague me?”

Harry swallowed; he didn’t know how to answer. “I—I… I just want to see my parents, please,” he said.

“Ha! A Potter with manners, how unique. And so young as well, but you’re not dead, no, far from it,” the figure said. He floated towards Harry until they were only inches apart. “Is that all you want, boy?”

“Yes,” Harry said, staring at the figure. “I want to see my parents.”

The figure floated back, “Very well, I just wanted to see the Potter who summon me here. After all, it is curious that a Potter would summon me so young and offer me a gift years before.” The figure chuckled. “I will come again to you boy, just as I come to all. But I wonder how many gifts you will offer me until then…” The figure laughed a cold, high laugh and disappeared.

The mist became white once more, before two people stepped through it, holding hands. One was a man who looked the spitting image of an older Harry with the same black hair and face, with brown eyes behind glasses. He was holding hands with a beautiful woman with long red hair and eyes that were as green as Harry’s. The eleven-year-old boy swallowed as tears fell. “Mum? Dad?”

The two nodded. Harry grinned happily. “I missed you,” he whispered. “Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon—they told me nothing about you two at all! I—I didn’t even know what you looked like. Mum… Dad. There’s so much I want to tell you.”

The two just stared at Harry, their smiles fading slowly. They remained silent as they stared at Harry. “What’s the matter?” Harry asked. “Are you okay—does it hurt to do this?”

They continued to stare.

“Can you talk? Won’t you please answer me? Mum! Dad!” He heard a man’s laugh to the left of him and turned to see the foggy mist blocking him from everyone else. “That was Blaise’s uncle I think,” he said. “He can laugh so you two can talk right? Please, what’s the matter?”

They continued to stare in silence. James Potter looking at his son with clear disappointment while his mother just cried. Harry’s smile died. He tried to step towards them, but the hands holding onto his held him back. “Please, what happened? What did I do?” Harry asked.

A third figure appeared. He looked young; eight years old at the latest. He looked rat-faced, with his eyes staring straight at Harry. The Slytherin’s heart sank as he recognized Piers. Harry’s parents glanced at the young eight-year-old then back at Harry. Harry shook his head, his tears still falling but for a different reason. “Mum, dad please,” he begged. “I can explain.”

“Murderer.” Piers said. He stepped in front of Harry’s parents and stared at him. “Murderer.”

Harry shuttered. “Y-Yeah, yeah I am a murderer,” he said, “but you deserved it.” Harry’s mother choked on a sob and Mr. Potter pulled her to him. She buried her head in his chest and Harry’s father just shook his head in utter disappointment.

“No,” Harry whispered, he could feel his heart shatter in his chest. “Piers hurt me! He was going to do something to me if I didn’t—”

Piers ran towards him and Harry felt an icy cold hand on his throat. The eight-year-old glared at him before screaming at the top of his lungs, “MURDERER!”

Then all went black.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

Aftershock

Harry woke up in his bed in the Slytherin dormitories. His friends were around his bed, looking worried, as well as Professor Snape. “Harry! What happened?” Blaise asked. “The mist fell, and you just collapsed!”

“How did I… what?” Harry said groggily.

“Mr. Potter,” Snape’s voice cut through Harry’s haziness and he looked up at the man. “Who exactly did you see?”

“My… my parents,” Harry said, frowning. He did not want to mention Piers to anyone. He just wanted to forget about the boy. “I just saw my parents. They were… they were disappointed.”

Snape just grunted but for a second Harry thought he could see shock and regret in the man’s eyes. His head throbbed, like an aftereffect of a headache, and the man nodded. “I see,” he said. “You will be fine. The first encounter with the Dark Arts can be quite… overwhelming. Especially those sensitive to it.”

“So he’s okay?” Draco asked.

“That is what I said,” Snape said. “Now, out of bed Potter. I will not have you hold the rest of your year accountable for tardiness.” And with that, he left, limping slightly.

The others handled Harry carefully, which Harry was appreciated of, if not a little annoyed. Draco and Blaise offered to hold his books and bag, Crabbe and Goyle went ahead to open every door for him, and the girls and Theo stayed close to him. It was nice, Harry thought, but he felt a little bit suffocated at how much they seemed to be babying him. I’m the Dark Lord’s apprentice! His future husband! I’m supposed to be stronger than this, he thought. He still performed fine in classes that morning, answered the questions he knew the answer to, and performing brilliantly with the spell work. He hoped that it would be enough to reassure his friends that he was perfectly fine, it was not.

A thing Harry noticed both during breakfast and their classes with the Gryffindors, was that for some reason Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Neville Longbottom looked haggard and closer than usual. He pointed them out as they walked to lunch, “What happened to them?” he asked his friends.

“Don’t know, but they look like they have seen a ghost,” Blaise hummed. They were walking near a group of Ravenclaws, and Terry Boot looked at Harry and the others, “You haven’t heard?” he asked, “I thought everyone heard by now.”

“Heard what?” Harry asked.

Boot glanced around and said, “You know that troll that got in last night? Apparently, I heard rumors that Weasley and Longbottom fought it! Granger followed it into the girls’ bathroom to fight it alone and Weasley and Longbottom had to save her!”

“Really? Huh,” Harry hummed.

“Shame, Weasley could have been knocked unconscious and we’ll be free of his weasel-ness for a couple days,” Blaise said. Harry just glanced at him and shook his head.

“Thanks Boot, I didn’t hear that,” Harry said.

“The Gryffindors have been talking about it all morning!” Boot said, “Anyway, see you in History of Magic, Potter.”

Harry waved him off. “So the three Gryffindors took down a troll, huh,” Pansy said, “Honestly would not expect them to do anything less.”

“Always run into danger,” Daphne nodded, “That’s their motto, I think.”

“The troll would have smashed them,” Millicent Bulstrode said, she looked at Harry and laughed, “Imagine if you went up against a troll Potter, I think it would smash you in a second!” She laughed and Harry frowned.

“No, I would direct the troll to you, but then it would just mistake you for its daughter,” Harry said. The others laughed as Millicent scowled at Harry. She gave him a shove and walked off. Harry just watched her go, shrugging, “What’s her problem?”

“Don’t know,” Draco said. “Anyway, Weasley, Longbottom, and Granger. I don’t know why but I feel they’re going to be annoying.”

“More than they already are? Come on, I’m hungry,” Harry said. Still, he was slightly interested. During lunch he observed the three of them. They seemed to be closer than before, much closer, as though they were all now instantly friends. Harry shook his head as he thought about what could have happened. They were stupid trying to go after a troll themselves, he would never do that.

Harry’s thoughts once again turned to Voldemort as he stared at the staff table. For some reason, Quirrell looked paler than usual, as though he was absolutely terrified. He wondered what could have happened to make the man so scared. Maybe he saw his own shadow, Harry chuckled to himself. He did not have a chance to talk with his mentor, however, until the first week in November was almost done.

The weather turned cold with the sky turning gray most days and Harry found himself having to bundle up most of the time. He woke up on Thursday morning with Salazar on his stomach. “You never told me there was another speaker,” the snake chastised him.

“Huh?” Harry muttered.

“The other speaker! The man who wears the disgusting turban! You never told me that he is not an idiot as well,” Salazar said.

Harry blinked sleepily at the snake before his eyes widen. “Oh! My master! He isn’t the man in the turban, but he’s inside him, we’re working on getting his body back. The man in the turban is an idiot coward,” Harry explained.

“Doesn’t matter. Point is your master found me and talked to me. Even gave me three big juicy rats to chase,” Salazar said, hissing contently. “He told me to tell you something. The nerve of him to order me around but then he gave me the rats, so I think it is okay.”

Harry sat up gently, moving the snake so that he was on his lap. Harry grabbed his glasses and looked down at the snake, “What does he want?”

“After classes are over, you are to meet him here, down in the dungeons,” Salazar hissed. “He offered to give me a fat juicy rat for leading you to him.”

“Perfect! Then I’ll bring you with me, thank you, Salazar,” Harry smiled. “I’ll see about getting more treats for you as well.”

“Yes, yummy treats to praise me,” Salazar hissed contently. Since it was getting colder in the dungeons, Harry brought out Salazar’s warming rock from his trunk’s compartment and left him usually on one of the fireplace mantels. The other Slytherins were wary at first, especially after a sixth year tried to pet him while he was resting, and Salazar snapped at him. Harry laughed and cooed at the snake, who just huffed. Harry hoped that Salazar’s presence would become commonplace, especially because he had a feeling that with winter coming, it would become a lot colder in the dungeons and he knew that Salazar would really hate being trapped in the compartment in his trunk. Besides, outside on the cozy fireplace Salazar can hiss and tease the students.

“Be nice, okay?” Harry said, “I know your dad might be a Runespoor but that doesn’t mean you can be nasty to others because they can’t hear you.”

Salazar just shrugged and Harry placed him on his warming rock, happy that nobody heard him hissing to the snake. His friends all knew, of course, but he did not know how to open the subject to his housemates. So instead he just said nothing and had a normal day of classes.

When his classes were over, Harry returned to the common room with the rest of the first years and brought his bag to his dorm. Then, he went to check on Salazar to see the snake waiting impatiently for him. He took the snake and allowed him to wrap around his shoulders and left without a word. Salazar led Harry through the dungeons, the first year going deeper than he ever went before. He went down stairs he never noticed before, took turns in places he didn’t think he could, and at the end he entered a large room that looked like a tomb with tall pillars and carvings in the walls.

Quirrell waited in the center, looking unnaturally calm.

“Where are we?” Harry asked.

“The catacombs of Hogwarts,” Lord Voldemort answered. “A much better place for us to meet than Quirrell’s classroom. Now, I want you to tell me about Samhain.”

“Can you first tell me about the troll? I don’t think you mentioned it to me,” Harry answered back.

Voldemort frowned. “The troll was Quirrell’s idea. I have given him a simple task. Investigate the Cerberus. I wanted to know about it myself. The fool however got nowhere near. Somehow the idiot became too suspicious, and Severus Snape almost caught him.”

“So that’s why he’s limping!” Harry gasped. “He was walking like he had his leg hurt.”

“I believe that the dog has got to him before Quirrell could get to the room,” Voldemort said. “A small wound which will pale once I’ve obtained my body and punish my old follower for getting in the way of his lord’s resurrection.”

Harry gasped, “Snape was a follower?”

Voldemort nodded, “Yes,” he said. “Snape was a spy for me, telling me information on Dumbledore’s plans and whereabouts. However, that means I must also keep valuable information from him.”

“In case Dumbledore learns about it?” Harry asked.

“No, I know Dumbledore knew about Snape’s role,” Voldemort answered. “I had an inkling that Snape was giving information to Dumbledore as well. However, what I do not know is Snape’s true loyalties. But that can be sorted out later.” Harry nodded. “Anyway, tell me about Samhain, I need something positive to think about.”

Harry smiled, “It was fun. We all went into the forbidden forest and did a ritual together to talk to the dead.” His smile faded and sighed, “But uhh, I had a weird experience.”

Voldemort waved Quirrell’s wand, and two chairs appeared. “Sit and explain,” he ordered. Harry sat down across from his lord and started telling him everything that happened during Samhain. He explained his strange encounter to what he thought was Death, followed by his parents showing up. “They didn’t talk to me. They just stared at me, disappointed. I tried to get them to talk but nothing. Then, Piers appeared…” Harry stopped for a second and shook his head. “Piers appeared and called me a murderer. I did not deny it and he screamed it as my mother cried. After that, I blacked out.”

“That could be caused to a sensitivity to the Dark Arts,” Voldemort said thoughtfully. “It is perhaps because your magical core is completely embedded in Dark Magic.”

“That’s what Snape said too,” Harry said, “but I’m more sad. My parents, they look like they hated me. Could they… could they have known?” He asked hesitantly.

“It is said that loved ones are always watching, even when they are gone,” Voldemort said. “Does it discourages you, knowing that they are disappointed?”

Harry looked at Voldemort sadly. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I… you’re my master. You saved me, taught me everything, and yet… they’re still my mum and dad. I don’t know them, and I know that they fought against you because of Dumbledore but still—”

“It’s okay my little snake,” Voldemort said calmly. “I had a feeling that seeing your parents might have been stressful.” He stood up and stepped towards Harry, who remained sitting. “If I may, my little snake, your master would wish to help you.”

“Please,” Harry said softly. Voldemort chuckled and took Quirrell’s wand and aimed it at Harry’s scar.

“I will give your mind a shield, a coating of Dark Magic that will keep your thoughts to yourself, and let any doubt lie,” Voldemort said. “This would also help keep anyone else from reading your thoughts.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. He closed his eyes and felt magic envelop him a second later. His head felt full, like a heavy blanket was being stuffed into his skull. In his mind, he could practically see the dark magic, a swirling energy of black and purple moved over his brain and mind, gathering his thoughts and memories, and keeping them snuggly in place. It seemed to shimmer, for a moment, before disappearing entirely along with the full feeling. He opened his eyes and gasped, “I think I saw the magic,” he said, “surrounding my mind. It was purple and black and swirling.”

“Then you are more sensitive to the Dark Arts than I expected,” Voldemort said, looking prideful. Harry gave a small smile to that. “Now, before we depart I have a small task for you, Harry.”

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“Professor Flitwick speaks nothing but praises for you, all of your professors do, but Flitwick most of all. You are to get him to tell you his trial,” Voldemort said. “It should be a simple enough task for you. I would get Quirrell to do it, however, I fear that I cannot trust him with the simplest of tasks.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. “Umm, Tom, are you sure that you don’t need my magic? It’s been a long time since…”

“I am fine Harry, I should have enough energy to last till Ostara, by which time we will have the Stone,” Voldemort said. “Now, go. We will meet next when you have Flitwick’s task.”

“Yes, master,” Harry said. He stood up and before he left, Voldemort summoned a fat rat for Salazar, who ate it greedily. Harry found himself full with a renewed conviction as he returned to the Slytherin common room. He spent the rest of the day wondering how he will get Flitwick to tell him his secrets.

“Harry mate, you’re wrong. Us Gryffindors are going to smash your team to pieces tomorrow!” Fred said.

“Oh really? How’s that? Flint told me that we won the Quidditch Cup for the last six years. What do you have now that you didn’t last year or the year before?” Harry asked.

“Muscles!” George said and he flexed his arms. Harry laughed loudly as the twins showed off small bumps on their arms.

“Those are pretty, yeah,” Harry grinned, giving their arms a squeeze, “but can muscles beat brains?”

“Since when does Flint have brains, Potter?” Fred asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You have me there, but Higgs is pretty smart, as well as well as Miles,” Harry said.

The three were outside on the deary November day. The first Quidditch match of the season was tomorrow, and Harry wanted to spend some time with the Weasley twins, who were both beaters on the Gryffindor team. Classes were over, and Harry felt that it would be a good relaxer for the three of them to hang out together. “Well, their smarts will never beat Gryffindor power!” Fred said.

“Oh yeah?” Harry grinned, “How about we make it fun then?”

The twins grinned wildly at Harry. “Look at him Fred, the little Slytherin is trying to slither into our good graces.”

“We really should give him credit for it, George,” Fred nodded along with his twin. “And it sounds like fun, we’re going to win anyway, so what will the little Slytherin do for us?”

Harry smiled innocently, “Well, when Slytherin wins, there’s something I need to do that I would like your help with. Nothing extremely evil or slimy, I assure you, I just need to get something from Professor Flitwick.”

“Does it have to do with that three-headed dog you and Ron ran into after your attention,” George asked, still grinning at Harry. “We know all about it, the boy talks in his sleep.”

“Not telling,” Harry said as he mentally cursed the youngest Weasley.

“Fine then, well when we win, because we will,” Fred said, the twins flexing again, “We want you to help us with a couple products, as well as pranking a few chosen targets.”

“Let me guess, they’re all Slytherins?” Harry asked.

“Only most!” George said.

“Oi!” a voice yelled. The three looked to see other Gryffindors walking towards them. Harry recognized them as seventh years, and his heart gave a skip as one very cocky-looking Gryffindor stepped towards him. He recognized him instantly as the Gryffindor who soaked him and Theo on their first day here. “What are you two doing with that evil traitor?” the Gryffindor asked.

“Traitor?”

“Who’s a traitor?”

“Can’t be Harry, he’s only a trainer.”

“Trainer of snakes actually.”

“It’s true, I saw him just an hour ago training snakes to jump through hoops, bloody awful it was.”

“Shut up!” the seventh year yelled, “Don’t you know that Potter’s the enemy now?” He sighed and shook his head. “No wait I get it,” he chuckled. “The two of you are lowering his defenses yeah? Pretty sneaky. But, this is the only way to deal with Slytherins.” Before Harry could stand up, the Gryffindor waved his wand and Harry cried in pain as his arms began to sting.

“Hey! What is that for?” Fred yelled, the twins getting up.

“Nothing, just treating trash like it’s supposed to be treated,” the seventh year smirked. He jabbed his wand and Harry’s skin started to burn with rashes. Fred and George immediately rushed towards the seventh year, surprising him by punching his face. The spell stopped and Harry stood up.

His hands sparked with fire and he grabbed his wand, hissing out, “Incendio!” The fire sparking around his hand coiled around his wand and shot out at the dazed seventh year. His robes caught fire, and the teen screamed, frantically scrambling to take off his robe as his friends cast the Water-making spell at him, dousing him with water. Harry laughed at the whole thing.

“You! I’ll get you, you snot-nosed brat!” the seventh year yelled. Harry stopped laughing and just stared at him in response. He raised a perfect eyebrow and stepped towards them. The seventh year scoffed, “It’s not worth it. Come on guys—and you two can bet I’m telling Wood about this! Stupid Weasleys,” he muttered.

The three watched the group of Gryffindors walk away. Harry stepped towards Fred and George, and once the others were far enough he asked, “Why do Gryffindors always bully Slytherin?”

“Well mate, it’s kind of in response to your lot always bullying us and everyone else,” Fred said honestly.

“That’s not true, the entire school is against Slytherin,” Harry said, frowning. “It’s so bad that we were told that we always had to travel in groups just to be safe.”

“So that’s why those two baby trolls dropped you off here?”

Harry nodded, “Crabbe and Goyle, yeah,” He said. “Our first day here, Theo and I woke up late. That guy, he, and his friends cast stinging jinxes on us, and he caused a bat to fly out of Theo’s nose. He was scared to blow his nose for a week afterward in case a bat comes out again. Not to mention how I was tripped by that other Gryffindor. And that was just me. Everyone else had it worse sometimes. Missing books, tripping, stinging spells to our arms. One time, Pansy had to run back to the common room because someone jinxed her hair to slowly fall out.” Harry sighed and shook his head, “Point is, I want to add to what I want if we win. I want your help in getting even with that boy.”

“You mean with Cecil?” Fred asked. “His name is Cecil Harvey.”

“Yes,” Harry nodded. The twins looked at each other then nodded.

“Alright, but only if we can add something to our prize when we win,” George smirked. “When we win, you will help us prank whoever we say, with our first victim being Cecil Harvey.”

Harry smiled at the two of them. “Deal,” he said, holding out his hand. They shook on it and spent the rest of their time together talking out all the pranks and humiliations they could pull on the Gryffindor.

The next day, Harry woke up excited for the match. The Quidditch players were already in the Great Hall when Harry and his friends arrived, a serious attitude surrounding both the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables. Harry couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for them and hoped that none of them were feeling nervous. After breakfast, Harry and the others made their way to the Quidditch pitch to watch the Slytherin and Gryffindor game. He wore his heavy Slytherin robe because it was supposed to be very cold according to Blaise, and he and the rest of the first years managed to get seats at the front of the stands. Harry had never been to see a live game before. Uncle Vernon took Dudley and his friends to see a football match for Dudley’s fifth birthday, however, they locked Harry in the cupboard before they left. So, being able to be in the crowd and cheer on the Slytherin Quidditch team was very exciting for Harry. He looked around as the crowds began to fill and saw that the staff were all seated together higher than they were in their own stand. He could barely see Professor Quirrell who looked absolutely frightened. Maybe he got punished, Harry thought a little blissfully before his attention was brought to the center as Madam Hooch blew her whistle and the game began!

Slytherin won in the end, however, it was a close match and Harry’s voice was sore from cheering so much. Draco and Blaise told him the rules as they went on, pointing out techniques and moves that the players did, however Harry’s eyes always went towards Terrance Higgs, Slytherin’s Seeker. He was able to follow him easily and every now and again he found himself looking around the pitch for the golden snitch himself. He even found it a couple of times and pointed it out to the two of them!

“Come on! There’s going to be a celebration in the common room,” Draco grinned as the Slytherins started to leave the stands. The first years followed the others and Harry looked behind to see the Gryffindor team returning to the castle slowly. “I’ll be right back,” he said and immediately ran towards the Gryffindors. He heard Draco yelling for him but kept on running. He glanced back to see Daphne and Theo chasing after him. “Hey! Fred! George!”

The Weasley twins looked up at him along with the other Gryffindors. “What you want, Potter?” their captain asked.

“Relax Wood, he’s a good snake,” Fred chuckled. “Want your reward so soon, Harry? You’re really impatient, you know?”

“I know,” Harry grinned. “I just want to make sure you two are good.”

“What’s he on about?” Wood asked.

“Just a friendly wager—we’ll meet up with you guys later,” George said. “Quick before the other snakes get here,” he laughed as he saw Daphne and Theo catching up to them. The rest of the team shrugged and walked by them without another word. “So, us three just need to take something from Flitwick right?”

Harry nodded.

“What is it exactly we’re getting, oh least slimy of all slimy Slytherins?” Fred asked.

“Information,” Harry said. “And that is all I’m sharing.”

The twins just grinned at him, reminding Harry of imps. Daphne and Theo caught up to them by now, Theo panting and leaning on his knees while Daphne glared at Harry. “Can you stop being so impulsive!” she yelled, “You act so… so… Gryffindor!”

“We’ll take that as a compliment, female snake,” Fred said, “Won’t we George?”

“Absolutely, it’s the best way to describe Harry here—besides of sneaky.”

“Or conniving.”

“Absolutely dreadful, but in a cute way,” George nodded. “Anyway little snakes, Harry was just talking business with us. Isn’t that right Harry?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “They’re going to help me get back at the person who bullied us on the first day, Theo,” he said, looking at Theo. The small boy looked up at Harry for a moment.

“Really?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “His name is Cecil Harvey. He’s a seventh year.”

“So, what are you going to do to him?” Theo asked. “I mean, it’s just two third years and a first year—what do you even know that he can’t easily counter?”

Fred and George both gave a sigh and shook their heads. “Look at this tiny boy, Fred, doubting us,” George said.

“Unbelievable isn’t it? We’ll just have to turn these two into believers,” Fred said. The two grinned at Theo and Daphne as they each grabbed one of Harry’s arms. “Just watch and learn Slytherins, Fred and George Weasley will give you a show! With our assistant, the Snake Charmer Slytherin, Harry Potter. Who is so Slytherin that he somehow managed to befriend Gryffindors.”

Harry sighed and shook his head, “I’ll tell you guys about it later, come on, we should get back before Draco or Blaise start to get worried.” He shook his arms free and went to his friends. He turned to the twins and smiled, “I’ll have Hedwig send you some plans, alright? I want something huge so how bout after Yule—I mean Christmas?”

“The bigger the better Harry!” Fred cheered.

Harry, Theo, and Daphne made their way to the stairs leading to the dungeons before Daphne asked, “So what is it with those two?”

“Just a little wager,” Harry smiled. “Come on! I hope they bring treacle tarts to the party.” He led the rest of the way and they walked into Slytherin’s celebration already in process in the common room. Harry immediately went to a table set up with every kind of pastry and sweet he could imagine and took a handful before joining his friends. Salazar stayed on his heating rock, perfectly content on watching the Slytherins act so strangely. As the night went on, the Slytherins all broke into smaller groups and the party started to get quieter. Harry ran up to get the book on beginning dark arts that Higgs showed him and started to read as his mind wandered on how he and the Weasley twins will deal with Cecil Harvey.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

First Yule

Harry and the twins planned on how to approach Professor Flitwick for the rest of November. The month passed quicker than Harry noticed as Voldemort did not call upon him since their last encounter in the catacombs. December came with cold winds and heavy snow that made the first years bundle into their heaviest cloaks even in the draft corridors of Hogwarts.

Harry decided to approach the Charms Professor out of a place of kindness. Professor Flitwick was decorating the Great Hall in early December one day, which Harry had volunteered to help just days before. He smiled at the professor when he approached with Fred and George behind him, “Hello Professor, I hope you don’t mind but I brought a couple of friends to help.”

“Not at all Harry, not at all!” Professor Flitwick said. He looked at Fred and George and said, “Now boys, nothing explodes, you understand? We only want babbles and ornaments in the air, not potions that turn your hair silver and gold.”

“Don’t worry Professor, we really just want to help,” George grinned. “Harry whipped us good into behaving.”

“Is that so? Then take these ornaments and hang them over the door,” Professor Flitwick said, pointing his wand at several large babbles that were almost as big as Harry’s head that all sparkled silver and blue. The twins gave a smile and started to float the large babbles into the air. Harry stayed with Professor Flitwick and together they floated more ornaments into the air, Professor Flitwick even teaching Harry a spell to make them twinkle. The two spent time decorating the Great Hall until Harry began to speak. “Professor, how did you become so proficient at Charms?”

“Years of practice, Harry,” Professor Flitwick said. “There was much for me to learn even after I graduated Hogwarts.”

“You must have learned a lot then,” Harry praised. “Do you know more about Charms than Headmaster Dumbledore?” He waved his wand and several babbles glittered silver and green. He waved his wand easily and they floated towards over the Slytherin Table where Professor Flitwick placed a stasis charm on them, so they just float in place.

The diminutive professor gave a chuckle, “No, no I’m afraid there are no matching Headmaster Dumbledore’s wits with magic.”

“But still, you’re very skilled in Charms,” Harry said, “I don’t think that Dumbledore can do half the things that you can.”

“That is very nice of you, Harry,” Professor Flitwick smiled.

Harry smiled back and looked around. “In fact, there was something I was wondering. Can you use Charm to protect something?”

“What do you mean, Harry?” Professor Flitwick asked.

Harry shrugged, “I mean, I heard that later on in Defense Against the Dark Arts, we’ll learn to make shields, so I was wondering if Charms had something similar. Like, for example, you can charm a room to protect something later on?”

“Well, yes, I suppose you could do that,” Professor Flitwick muttered. “But why would you need to do that Harry?”

Harry just shrugged, “I mean, wouldn’t it be best to protect something, especially if it’s important,” he said. “Say, for example, having multiple protections on it. What would I do to protect it using charms?”

“I do not like where this is going, Harry,” Professor Flitwick said, frowning slightly. “I cannot think of what object an eleven-year-old can have that possibly requires this much protection.”

Harry frowned, “I’m sorry sir, I did not mean to be vague. To be honest, I wasn’t talking about any of my possessions. It’s just, I’ve may have overheard Professor Quirrell and Professor Snape talking about something hidden here—a very important stone that all the teachers have been protecting and it was worrying me.”

“Stone—you mean you’ve—”

“I’m sorry for being coy,” Harry said, doing his best to look absolutely innocent. “I’ve heard about the Philosopher's Stone and really started to worry. I know that it is here because I heard Professor Snape complaining to Professor Quirrell about a three-headed dog. And, I know that there would be no way that anyone would steal it—but it still worries me thinking that someone can! And, I think it would really put my mind at ease, Professor if I know what exactly is protecting it. That was why I asked about protecting things with Charms. I’m really sorry about that.” He pulled out a small orb discreetly from his pocket and tapped it with his wand, floating it towards Slytherin's table, where it hung over where the first years sat.

“Ohh, well you’re right, this is something you do not have to worry about at all, Harry,” Professor Flitwick said, “and especially lose sleep over! The Philosopher's Stone is safe indeed, very safe. But if it eases your mind, you must promise to never tell anyone, you understand?”

“Immensely, sir,” Harry nodded.

“Good,” Flitwick smiled, “Now you’re right about the three-headed dog. Hagrid was very nice to provide him, such a nice man, he is. After that is a devilish amount of Devil’s Snare provided by Poppy, err, Professor Sprout. After that is my personal obstacles, a room filled with flying keys—one of them being the correct one to the door moving on, after which the unfortunate intruder has to deal with Minerva’s obstacle, a live game of wizard’s chest. Let’s see here, afterward, I believe Professor Quirrell was kind enough to lend a troll, and Professor Snape a riddle, followed lastly by a trial set up by Professor Dumbledore himself! What that trial is, I sadly do not know, but rest assure Harry that the stone is safe, and it will always be safe for as long as it is in those chambers.”

Harry smiled brilliantly, “Thank you, professor, that is a huge relief.”

“You are very welcome Harry,” Professor Flitwick said, returning the smile. “Now, let’s say we finish decorating, eh? Hagrid is going to be bringing in twelve Christmas trees! Can you believe it? Twelve! And I would like all the ornaments that will not be going on to them up before then!”

Harry nodded and he and the Weasley twins spent the next hour helping Professor Flitwick decorate the Great Hall. When they were dismissed, Harry smiled innocently at Professor Flitwick and he and the Weasleys walked outside into the snowy air.

“So, got what you wanted Harry?” Fred asked.

“I got precisely what I wanted and then some,” Harry grinned. “And I have everything else set up over my table.” He pulled out more small orbs from his pocket and gave them to Fred and George. “I have one over Millicent Bulstrode’s seat specifically because she’s annoying me, but I’ve also placed some of the others over where my Quidditch team sits.”

“Ooh? Slytherin drama?” Fred grinned. “This we have to hear, eh George?”

“Do tell, oh Slytherin Harry,” George said.

Harry just shrugged, “She’s just mean to me for no reason. Also, she tried to pull my snake.”

Fred and George gasped. “Harry! At that age?”

Harry looked at them confused, “What? I mean my pet snake, Salazar!”

“Oh… right, of course,” Fred said, blushing. “Of course that snake.”

“Yeah, what other kind is there?” Harry asked. “Anyway, everything is set up, and I believe I know how we are going to get back at Cecil. I want to destroy his reputation.”

“Isn’t that a little harsh?” George asked.

Harry shook his head. “No. The idiot hurt my friends, and I want to hurt him back. This is his last year here, so I want something that will follow him for a long time,” Harry said seriously. “So, I want to know everything about him. Can I trust you two on that?”

“I mean, yeah,” Fred shrugged, “but I don’t know how to feel about this.”

“Please Fred,” Harry begged. “If we don’t do this, who knows how much more bullying will follow? I promise you nobody will get hurt, nobody! And, I’ll help out whenever you need me for the next year.”

George looked between Harry and Fred. “We should do it, Fred,” he said, “We already agreed, and we’re getting Harry to do our bidding for a year.”

Fred looked between the two of them. “Okay. We’ll see what we can find out—but I’m serious Harry, nobody gets hurt. It’s all fun and games until that happens.”

“I promise you two,” Harry smiled. “Nobody will get hurt.” The three shook on it, and Harry immediately went back to the dungeons to get Salazar to tell Voldemort to meet him in the catacombs.

The Dark Lord met him half an hour later, and after Harry told him everything, Voldemort smiled. “You have done outstanding, my little snake. Now we have everything we need, all that is left is to plan how to pass each of these obstacles and prepare for whatever surprise Dumbledore has planned for us.”

“I’m happy to help, Master,” Harry said. Voldemort looked as though he wanted to ruffle Harry’s hair as he did whenever Harry pleased him but stopped himself short. Harry just continued to smile. “Tom, there’s one more thing I want to ask you about,” he said. “I don’t want another story about Adrian this time but help. There’s this boy, a seventh year named Cecil Harvey. He has hurt me and my friends, and I want to take revenge by completely destroying his reputation.”

“I see,” Voldemort said, “What do we know of this individual?”

“Not much, I’ve asked Fred and George Weasley to look into him,” Harry said. He frowned and licked his lips. “Master, do you remember when I killed Piers?” Voldemort nodded silently and waited for Harry to continue. “I saw that before the snakes came out, Piers was fiddling with his pants. I think he was going to do something with his penis…something that his brother learned in an offender institution. What… Master, what was Piers going to do to me?”

Voldemort inhaled deeply. “Are you sure you want to know? You are only eleven, Harry.”

“Please, I feel like I can use it,” Harry said.

“Very well, but I will not tell you all of the explicit details until you are older, understand?” Voldemort said. Harry nodded. “I believe that Piers, even though he was too young to even have an erection, was planning on sexually assaulting you. Even though he probably did not even know what those actions even are. I assume that his older brother has learned, and participated, in these actions.”

“I’m thinking that it’s very bad?” Harry asked in a small voice.

“It is an evil too far for me and my followers,” Voldemort said. “I remember during the first war; I had a follower named Evan Rosier. He was a loyal man, took orders, and obeyed without hesitation. He looked as though he would even enter my inner circle until I’ve heard something terrible about him. Every time they went for a raid, Rosier would linger behind and find someone, anyone, and do to them what Piers has tried to do to you. I was furious. I immediately summoned him and tortured his mind. I’ve seen every despicable act he has done to muggle women, men, and worst children, and I killed him on the spot.”

“Ohh, I see,” Harry breathed.

“If you are planning to claim that this Harvey has tried to sexually assault you, Harry, you must be prepared for the aftereffects. He will never have a successful life. But more importantly, I will be disappointed in you, for choosing to fake such an atrocity,” Voldemort muttered. Harry’s heart sank and his chest felt cold.

“I didn’t mean to disappoint you, Master,” he whispered. “I just… I’m just so angry and I don’t want him or anyone to hurt my friends anymore.”

“You have to remember that you’re only eleven Harry,” Voldemort said softly. “A powerful eleven-year-old, yes, but still. You will gain power; you will become stronger. But it will not come all at once. Find out what you know about Cecil Harvey. Use his secrets against him and destroy him using those. I know you can do it, Harry, you have your Master’s belief. Just promise that you will never make up a lie about sexual assault.”

“I promise, Master,” Harry muttered.

“Good boy, now come here—and be mindful you don’t touch his skin, “Voldemort said, and he brought Harry into a hug. The boy felt relieved to be holding Tom once more. He missed their physical contact every time it stops. He looked up and could almost imagine how his Master would look, seeing his imagination over Quirrell.

“Master.”

“Yes, Harry?”

“I can’t wait until Ostara and we get your body back,” Harry said, “then you can kiss my scar again. I like it when you do that.”

Voldemort chuckled, “I cannot wait either, little snake. But first, we still have Yule to get through, and Yule is a joyous occasion. So enjoy it, Harry. It is your reward for going beyond what your master asked for.” Harry smiled and nodded as he daydreamed of Voldemort kissing his scar.

“Harry! You cannot just give Pansy chocolates!” Blaise yelled. He and Harry were hunched over several magazines in the library trying to figure out what to get their friends for Christmas.

“Why not?” Harry asked, “I think she would like chocolates. She especially loves chocolate frogs.”

“Yeah, but there’s an entire culture around gift-giving,” Blaise said.

Harry frowned, “There is? I haven’t heard of it.” Blaise shook his head and gave Harry a small smile, “It’s okay Harry, that’s why I’m here.” He looked around the magazines for a moment before pointing to some candy. “Okay, so there’s a whole ruleset over gift-giving, you see?  Small sweets and stuff like that are good to give to an acquaintance or someone you’re just learning to know. But we’re all friends here, yeah, so the gifts we need to give need to be a bit more personal.”

Harry nodded, and thought for a moment, “So, for Pansy, I would give her like a bottle of perfume or maybe some make-up because she’s really into that stuff?”

Blaise nodded and thought for a moment, “That might be a bit too personal, but yeah.” He flipped through a wizarding fashion magazine and smiled, “Here is her favorite nail polish, you can get here that.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded, and he quickly wrote that down. “Oh! For Crabbe, I can get him a book on knitting!”

“That is more like it,” Blaise smiled, “Now for me, you would get something very personal because we are best friends,” he gave Harry a huge grin which the smaller boy reciprocated. “So, we would give each other, again something that we both would like based on what we know about each other, but because we’re close, we can give each other clothes. Remember, clothing is only for close friends and family. Repeat that.”

“Clothing is only for close friends and family,” Harry said. He thought for a moment and looked at Blaise thoughtfully. His best friend was always very nice and serious about studying. He looked down to see that they were holding hands and grinned as he figured out what he wanted to get his best friend. However, before that, he figured he needed to write a letter to Mrs. Zabini, just to make sure. With Blaise and Pansy’s gifts done with, Harry suddenly thought about Tom. “What about my mentor?” he asked. “What should I give him? He’s the closest I am with someone.”

“He’s like your family, so then you can give him anything you think is appropriate. The last thing, which is saved only for family and lovers, that’s like boyfriends and girlfriends, is jewelry. It’s a very serious thing to give jewelry Harry,” Blaise said.

“Ohh, I’ll remember that,” Harry nodded. He thought for a moment, “I don’t think my mentor would like jewelry, he doesn’t seem the type. But maybe a book on the Dark Arts? Oh! And a promise to cook for him during the summer!” Harry smiled.

“Sounds great,” Blaise grinned. “I can help you pick out a book. There won’t be any here, obviously,” he pointed to the magazines.

“That would be great, thanks!” Harry smiled and Blaise squeezed his hand. The two then spent the next hour going over the magazines, writing down what they were going to get their friends. Harry decided on staying with the nail polish for Pansy and knitting book for Crabbe and found an interesting potions book for Draco. For Daphne, Harry found a book about magical flowers that even promoted that each page smelled like different flowers. Goyle was hard for Harry to figure out. He wanted to give him his favorite sweets but didn’t want to unintentionally insult him. So, he figured to add something that he thought Goyle would like as well as the sweets. Harry thought for a long time over Theo, deciding on a beautiful shirt he saw in one of the magazines. Blaise raised an eyebrow at that, but Harry just smiled and squeezed his hand promising to give the taller Slytherin double. Millicent Bulstrode has only gotten chocolates.

Blaise raised an eyebrow at that, but Harry just smiled innocently. “Well, Harry, I forgot to ask, are you staying here for the holidays?” Blaise asked after they were done writing out their orders.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded.

“But don’t you miss your mentor?” Blaise frowned.

Harry’s cheeks blushed, “I do, but he’s really busy this holiday,” he muttered. “I don’t want to bother him.”

“If you say so,” Blaise frowned, “You know you’ll be one of the only Slytherins who are staying, right? Most if not all of the House usually goes home during the holidays.”

“I figured,” Harry said, though he did not want to think about it much. There was nothing for him to return to. His Voldemort was here, and he would rather not spend Yule alone with the Dursleys. “Honestly Blaise, I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I’ll spend the time reading about Yule and other stuff, I promise.”

“Fine,” Blaise said, “but if you’re going to read so much I’m getting you fiction! Reading so many books like that is not good for your imagination.” Harry just smiled back and squeezed Blaise’s hand.

“Fine, whatever you say, Blaise,” He smiled.

Harry thought that Voldemort would call him once more before the semester ended, however, he never did. Harry felt a little sad that his Master didn’t call upon him, even if it was just to talk, however, his sadness went away almost instantly as he hung out with his friends. Between classes and homework, Harry spent the time having snow fights with his fellow Slytherins and pulling minor pranks, and learning joke spells from the Weasley twins. During the nights, when his homework was done, Harry found himself nose-deep in Hexes and Jinxes for the Budding Dark Wizard.

When the holidays started, Harry waved his friends goodbye and returned to the Slytherin common room. As Blaise said, most of Slytherin left to spend the holidays home. Only a couple of seventh years stayed with Harry, which meant that the three of them had the common room all to themselves. On the first day, the two seventh years taught Harry how to play Wizards Chess, which was like regular chess except the pieces moved by themselves and the players just commanded them where to go. Harry liked that game, especially when he won and the seventh years taught him minor dark spells. He learned a form of the stinging hex he and Theo were hit with so many times, as well as another Stasis Charm which freezes the target like the Full-Body Bind, however, the person freezes in their pose for a minute and forgets everything that happened in that minute. Harry’s favorite, however, was a voice mimicking spell that just needed a drop of blood or hair from the person they’re mimicking. Harry was able to get a piece of Ron Weasley’s hair, with the help of his Gryffindor friends, and paraded around the Slytherin Common Room singing “I’m a big baboon I swear I am a loon! With a face of a beagle and wits of a weasel, I must be illegal!” In Ron’s voice. The seventh-year Slytherins found it hilarious and demanded an encore.

Harry woke up on Yule to see a large pile of presents in front of him. Harry grinned and dove out of bed towards the presents. He picked up a small box and opened it to see, to his surprise, hair product from Pansy along with specific instructions and minor threats if he doesn’t use it. The next package he picked up was hastily wrapped and, as he opened it, Harry laughed as he saw that Fred and George gave him joke products along with a bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. There was a short letter from them as well that just said ‘We’re sorry for our mother.’

Harry didn’t know how to react to that and instead reached for a very lumpy parcel. He ripped it open to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge. Harry wondered who this was from, before figuring that it was from the twins’ mother. He tried the fudge, and it was delicious.

His next present was from Millicent Bulstrode, it was just candy that smelled sour, so Harry tossed it to the side. As promised, Blaise gave him fiction books full of heroes and wizards and had really cool covers! One of the books was a collection of children’s stories and Harry felt excited to start them, and he hoped that Blaise liked the robes he gave them. Theo gave him a cute shirt that made Harry smile, and Draco’s present was exactly as Harry expected: a book on potions and a miniature broom and snitch that flew around by themselves.

Crabbe and Goyle both gave Harry a cooking book as well as short demands for Harry to cook for them during the next break. Harry’s last gift was from Daphne. It was toys and treats for Salazar as well as a scarf that changed colors to match his clothes. He loved his gifts and started to dress for the day, deciding to wear Mrs. Weasley’s sweater.

When he entered the Great Hall for breakfast, he saw the Weasleys all sitting together. Fred and George were both wearing blue sweaters, one with an F and the other with a G. He went to them and smiled, “Happy Yul—Christmas, Fred, George,” Harry said merrily.

“Happy Christmas Harry!” Fred grinned.

“Look at you! I knew Mum would make you a Weasley sweater, she makes them every year,” George said. “We might have  told her about you and how you may not have any presents for Christmas.”

Ron looked up immediately and saw Harry in his sweater. He immediately glared at Harry and stood up, “What the heck!? Why do you have a sweater?”

“Because your mother thought to make one for me,” Harry replied easily, “Fred, George can you tell her I said thank you? I did not expect this at all—oh and the fudge was delicious! I want to try making it over the summer.”

“Of course Harry,” Fred said.

“No! No! Don’t do that!” Ron yelled. “He shouldn’t even have one of those! No way mum would waste her time on him!”

“Don’t go insulting your mother like that Ron, it is not a good look,” Harry drawled. He smiled at the twins, “Anyway I just wanted to drop to say happy Christmas and thank you for your presents. I hope you liked mine.”

“We loved it!” the twins grinned. Harry returned the smile and waved goodbye, ignoring Ron’s glare as he moved to the Slytherin table and sat with his new seventh-year friends.

Harry spent the day relaxing with his new gifts, playing with Salazar before taking him to check up on Hedwig, using a warming charm to keep the snake warm in the cold air. He fed both rats until they were full and petted them until they were content. He gave Hedwig letters he wrote for his friends and watched her fly away before going back into the castle long after the sun has set.

Harry never had the castle mostly to himself, and he did not want to return to the dorms just yet so he decided to wander. He had no destination in mind as he wandered the corridors, taking his time to look at the portraits and murals as he passed. He went up stairs he never saw before, found new corridors and passageways, and somehow got to the seventh floor with just one stairway he found on the fourth! The exploring was exciting to Harry as he did his best to memorize his new home for the next seven years, however, after a while, Salazar started to complain.

“I am tired. Bring me back to my rock. … These hallways look all the same, why do you take such wonderment in looking at them?”

“I’m learning the castle. I only know the hallways that lead to my classes, there’s so much more than that. I mean look! This portrait has a very fat lady in a pink dress,” he pointed to a portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress who was drinking merrily with someone else who seemed to have walked into her portrait.

“Don’t care. Want rock.” Harry rolled his eyes and walked back to the marble staircase. He pulled out his wand and tapped Salazar gently, casting a warming charm.

“Go, you know your way back. I want to explore a bit more,” he said. The snake just hissed annoyed and slithered off of Harry and down the stairs. Harry watched the snake for a bit, wanting to make sure that he was okay, before turning and went down a random hallway.

He somehow found his way to the library and passed it, deciding to go down a corridor he never went down before. It looked like all the others and Harry looked out the windows to see the stars in the sky, his only clue that it was nighttime. At the end of the corridor, there was a door standing slightly ajar. He walked towards it and decided to peak in. It was an unused classroom with desks and chairs piled against the walls.

Standing in the center of the classroom, strangely enough, was a mirror as high as the ceiling with an ornate guild frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

It was interesting and new. Harry approached the mirror and stood in front of it. His reflection looked different. He looked over, much older. He looked around twenty and handsome, his face still clean and his hair still messy like a crow’s nest. His emerald eyes shone brilliantly behind a pair of round glasses and he was holding hands with a very handsome man that Harry recognized immediately. It was Tom. They were both holding hands and Harry saw that on their hands were gold wedding bands. Behind them were people Harry did not recognize. They all looked at Harry happily and silently. In the background, pulsing lively, was a darkness, a swirl of black and purple that looked comforting to Harry. It looked like Dark Magic, and Harry just smiled as he stared at this reflection. He was with Tom, married, and surrounded by loved ones it looked like, and with Dark Magic. Harry did not know how long he stood there staring at the reflection. Nobody in the mirror moved or talked, just smiled at Harry silently. He reached forward at some time and pressed his hand against the mirror, and it was only then that the other Harry moved and pressed his hand against Harry’s. Harry only held nothing but the cold glass but still, he kept staring.

“I see that you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised, Harry,” a voice jolted Harry out of his trance. He turned to see Professor Dumbledore sitting on one of the desks.

“Sir?” Harry said, “I did not see you.”

“There are many ways to become invisible, Harry,” Dumbledore said as a way of explanation.

Harry frowned and glanced at the mirror. “I didn’t know it was called that.”

“But I take it by now you know what it does,” Dumbledore said.

Harry looked between the headmaster and the mirror. “It shows us what we desire,” Harry said. “Erised is desire backwards, it seems simple when you think about it.”

“Exactly,” Dumbledore chuckled amused. For some reason, Harry wanted to look the man in the eyes suddenly, like he was naturally drawn there, but he fought against it, instead politely looking at the man’s face but never focusing enough on it. “It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. If I may guess, you, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. However, the mirror will give us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible. The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask that you not go looking for it. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that.”

“It wasn’t showing my dreams, though,” Harry said. “It showed my future. I didn’t see my parents, but someone else. Someone much more important than them to me.”

“Oh? Who is that?” Dumbledore asked. Harry once again felt the pull to look the headmaster in the eyes. He continued to fight against it and just gave a polite smile, “My future husband, actually,” he said.

“Is that so?” Dumbledore muttered. “Harry, I would like to ask you a couple of questions, since it has been a few months and we are alone. How are you feeling in your House? Are you comfortable there? Accepted? I have to admit that I am still a bit shocked thinking about it.”

“Because I am my parents’ son?” Harry asked. “Other people thought that too. That I should be in Gryffindor because my parents were in it. I’m sorry sir to disappoint you, but Slytherin is exactly where I belong and meant to be.”

“You’ve had this conversation before?”

“Multiple times with Ron Weasley,” Harry said. “He hates that I am in Slytherin.”

“I can see why, given the unfair reputation the House holds,” Dumbledore said. Harry frowned at that.

“Whatever reputation it has doesn’t involve me,” he said. “And sir, I’ve been accepted into Slytherin wholly, just as I’ve accepted Slytherin—and everything surrounding it—wholly and completely. I really was not out looking for this mirror actually, I was just wondering about the castle. Now I know what it does, and what I see in it, I don’t feel like I need to look at it again. After all, I am going to be his husband, he promised me. So, goodnight sir, I hope you have a Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Yule, Harry,” Dumbledore said, sounding sad as Harry left the classroom.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16

Final Preparations

Pansy showed off her nails to Harry the moment she saw him. “Harry thank you so much I love this color!” she smiled.

“Thank you for the robes,” Theo said softly, smiling, “I hope you like the shirt.”

“I loved it, thank you Theo, and no problem Pansy,” Harry grinned. He sat with his friends and they all fell into talking about what they did during the break. Apparently, all of their parents went to a celebration during Yule that they were too young to attend. “It’s so unfair!” Draco complained. “You have to be thirteen or older to go because that’s when your journey starts. I told them that we summoned the dead during Samhain, and while they were proud of that, it didn’t matter!”

“Well, the Yule celebration is for mainly those who begin their journey first off,” Blaise said. “And believe me Draco, it could have been worse. I was stuck with Antonio!” Blaise gave a huge, disgusting face. “Why my mother is still with him I have no idea.”

“What did he do?” Harry asked, his hand already snaking to hold Blaise’s.

“He just acted his usual self,” Blaise said, “but he didn’t stay for long. After an hour or so he left and came back smelling even more disgusting like he took a bath in several bottles of perfume, and his clothes were raggedy. He told me not to tell mother, so I told her naturally and she promised to take care of it.”

“I hope she does,” Harry said, “that man is awful. I knew it when I met him, he smelled weird.”

“Indeed, but I don’t want to talk about him anymore,” Blaise said. “How was your Yule, Harry?”

Harry grinned and started to tell his friends everything that happened over the break. From his new friendship with two of the seventh years, learning how to play Wizard’s Chess and some minor dark spells. “I still have some of Weasley’s hair in a vial I’ll show later. But the weirdest and best part was this mirror I found called the Mirror of Erised. It’s this mirror that shows your deepest desire.”

“Oh, sounds interesting,” Pansy said, “I wonder what it would show Crabbe and Goyle? Probably food,” she snickered.

The two boys blushed, Goyle shaking his head. “Harry gave me exercise things, it’s very addicting,” he said.

Harry grinned, “I gave both of them a set of weights as well. They look strong and I thought they would like to get stronger. Anyway, when I stood in front of the mirror I saw myself, but older. I was holding hands with my mentor and, we have wedding bands on our fingers,” Harry smiled and looked down at his free hand. “There were others around us as well, people I didn’t recognize, some looked older and others looked my age.”

“So you want to marry your mentor?” Draco asked, scrunching up his nose a little.

“I’m going to marry him,” Harry corrected. “Besides, I bet you probably wouldn’t see anything better.”

“Of course I would,” Draco said, “I would naturally be seeing myself as Head Boy as well as Captain of the Quidditch Team—both of which will happen, mark my words.”

“I would see myself with my mother and uncle,” Blaise said wishfully, “with you guys as well, of course.”

“Books,” Theo said quietly. “I would be surrounded by books I’ve written.”

“A suit,” Daphne sighed. The others stared at her and she blushed, “I mean I would be important so I would need a suit—right.”

The others nodded along, and Harry smiled, “Well yeah I can see that. Anyway, if you want I can teach you all the spells I’ve learned.” The others agreed quickly, and Harry smiled, deciding to keep his conversation with Headmaster Dumbledore to himself. Instead, he got them to talk about their holidays and presents some more.

Classes went by uneventful, and Harry was very relieved to be back in the common room with his friends once more. Draco immediately went for Salazar and picked him up gently, petting the snake and asking how he was “With that nasty Potter boy who didn’t give you proper treats to eat.”

“I like this one, he shows me proper respect. You never do,” Salazar hissed, which caused Harry to snort.

“He says he likes you Draco,” he said. “Anyway, I’ll be right back.” He ran up to get a vial of Ron’s hair that he saved from the break and ran back down. He took one and grinned at them. He placed the piece of hair on the palm of his hand and said, “Voxminicus!” He felt magic swirl around him and grinned at his friends, “So do I sound like a Weasley?” he asked in Ron’s voice.

Pansy and Daphne screeched in laughter. “That’s brilliant Potter! Oh! Make him say stupid things!” Pansy demanded. Harry grinned and gave her a small bow.

“My name is Ronald Weasley and I still suck my thumb at night and cry for mummy when spiders are around,” Harry said, and his friends roared with laughter. He continued to impersonate Ron Weasley well into the night, and before he forgot, he made sure to teach Theo the stinging hex, promising the others he would teach them it when he wasn’t tired.

He taught the rest of his friends over the week and was happy to hear that when a group of fifth years tried to attack Theo when he was in the bathroom, the small Slytherin used the spell to great effect and sent them crying! Of course, nobody told on him, after all, what fifteen-year-old would want to admit that a first-year beaten him? Still, it filled Harry with pride and relief that they now had a chance to defend themselves if needed.

January went by without any major events. Harry studied and read and played with his friends. Every now and again he met up with Fred and George and got cooed over by the third-year girls as he talked about his friends and mentor and how he got his friends presents that met a lot to him. He would ask the twins if they had anything special to report and they would respond that they were still learning. Meanwhile, Harry was getting glares from Ron Weasley, and his two apparently new best friends Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. But they were easy enough to ignore, even if they seemed to hound him relentlessly. Just as the month was able to turn into February, Harry found himself happily striding towards the Hogwarts catacombs as Voldemort finally called him.

He greeted the man with a hug, making sure to not touch Quirrell’s skin. “I missed you,” he said.

“How can you? I see you every time you have my class,” Voldemort chuckled.

Harry frowned, “I miss talking to you, not the icky, cowardly Quirrell,” he said.

Voldemort chuckled, “Well, then it is a good thing that we do not have much longer to wait. My preparations are nearly complete, Harry. And on Ostara, we shall have my rebirth.”

“Do you mean it?” Harry asked in a small voice.

“Yes,” Voldemort nodded. “And as a way of celebration, I am allowing you to tell your friends about our connection. Everything about our connection, my little snake.”

A smile grew on Harry’s face, “I can tell them that my mentor is the Dark Lord?” he gasped.

“If you trust them enough, then yes,” Voldemort nodded.

“Thank you, but why the sudden change, Master?” Harry asked.

“We are celebrating, the day of my rebirth is close at hand,” Voldemort said. “Given time, people will find out that I have returned, and so they will look towards you to rise and defeat me. By telling your closest friends that I have returned, they will, naturally, in turn, tell their parents, my old followers. Then we shall see how they will react. Will they run from their lord? Or do nothing? We shall see, my little snake, and we shall judge.”

Harry nodded, and Voldemort left him with a final order. “We shall meet here on Ostara at precisely nine. We will steal the stone under the cover of darkness, and I will have my body back before midnight strikes.”

“Yes, Master,” Harry nodded.

Voldemort smiled and looked down fondly at Harry, “Never have I have a most loyal follower, Harry. You always make your master proud. Remember that.” Harry smiled with pride and gave Voldemort a final hug before leaving.

That night, Harry called all of the first years beside Millicent Bulstrode into the boys’ dormitory to tell them the news. Pansy stuck her nose up at the smell of the dormitory, glaring at Crabbe and Goyle’s messy beds. “What is so important Potter that we have to be here to tell it?” she demanded.

“The truth,” Harry said simply. “This is going to be awkward and hard, but also really exciting for me to tell you guys.” He took a deep breath and said, “My mentor is someone you all know, or at least your parents knew. It started when I was seven, I was being abused by my family and every muggle around me. That was when my master found me, however, he was weak, very weak, so much so that he could only take the form of a snake, whose language we shared. He saved me. Taught me that the language we speak, the language of snakes, is a special skill that only he and I have, and we bonded over it and magic. We even shared my magic, I allowed him to absorb parts of it from my core in order to become stronger. And he’s getting stronger every day, my Master. I love him so much, he means the world to me, and that’s why I’m helping him come back. On Ostara, he’s coming back. My Master, the Dark Lord Voldemort.”

Harry looked around at his friends who all stared at him in silence. They all looked confused as they slowly processed what was said. Blaise spoke first, “So your mentor… is the Dark Lord?” he asked. Harry nodded. “By the dark,” he whispered.

Draco sighed and shook his head, “Potter,” he sighed. “Potter, Potter… why does this make too much sense?”

Harry gave a shy smile, “Because I’m your friend?” he offered.

“By the dark,” Blaise whispered again. Theo just stared at Harry silently, nervously pulling at the hem of his shirt while both Daphne and Pansy stared open-mouthed.

Pansy raised a hand and said, “Hold on. You are learning from the Dark Lord?”

“Uh-huh,” Harry nodded.

“You lived with the Dark Lord since you were seven years old?” Pansy asked.

“Yes, met him during school recess,” Harry said.

“And above all of this, you want to marry him?”

Harry’s cheeks turned red, and he nodded silently.

“By the dark Potter!” Pansy exclaimed, “Does everything about yourself have to be so dramatic?”

“Sorry,” Harry muttered.

“And you’re only telling us now? Why?” Daphne asked. Harry looked up and shook away his blush. “Master told me I could,” he said simply. “When Hogwarts started, the Dark Lord gave me a very important rule. Whenever I’m talking about him, make sure to keep him as my mentor and him as the Dark Lord completely separate. That way people would not even think that my mentor and the Dark Lord are the same person. I’ve only spoken his name—his first name—once around others and that was when I was sitting with the Gryffindors.”

“You mean the Gryffindors know the name of the Dark Lord and we don’t!” Draco said, looking completely scandalous.

Harry smiled and shook his head, “No, the Gryffindors know about my mentor who is only a few years older than me and who I’m going to marry because I love him so. They have no idea at all that I and the Dark Lord even talked with each other.”

“So where is he? Where is the Dark Lord?” Blaise asked.

“Not telling, and it doesn’t matter. On Ostara, he’s getting his body back,” Harry said.

“The Dark Lord will be back,” Draco whispered. “I—I can’t even begin to imagine it. My father told me stories about how he was and what he did.” A scared look appeared on Draco’s face which caused Harry to worry.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

Draco looked up to him and hesitated, “It’s nothing,” he muttered, “it’s just my father told me that the Dark Lord used to torture his followers if they displease him. I don’t know if I want to see that. Like what if you make a mistake and—”

“It’ll be fine Draco, don’t worry,” Harry smiled. “If I make a mistake, then the Dark Lord and I will have a row. And if he tries to hurt any of you guys or your parents, then I’ll hurt him back. I love him, he’s my Master, but if he tries to go after any of you guys, I’ll help you out.”

Draco looked relieved and Harry moved on emotions, pulling the slightly taller boy into a hug. Draco stiffened like a rock before awkwardly hugging Harry back. “Malfoys don’t hug,” he muttered.

“Potters do, now shut it,” Harry muttered back. He took a step and looked at the others, “So, that was it. Do you want to know anything else?” he asked.

“I want a Harry hug!” Blaise demanded.

“No, you two hold hands all the time,” Pansy shot back.

“But hugs!” Blaise argued. Harry blinked at them.

“I just told you that my mentor is the Dark Lord… and you’re arguing over hugs?” he asked.

“Well, yeah,” Blaise shrugged. Harry shook his head and hugged Blaise as well, and Pansy for good measure, before turning to the others.

“Just a few things,” he said. “Obviously, do not tell anyone else. If they are not in this room, they do not need to know. If you tell, it’ll hurt me but I’ll have to do bad things to you and I’m going to have the Weasley twins help me as well. So please, keep it a secret?”

“Of course,” Theo said, the others nodding along.

Harry smiled, “Great so now, if you excuse me there’s work to be done! Ostara is coming up and the Weasleys and I are working on something else. It’s going to be so much fun!” Harry grinned and led them out of the boys’ dormitory where they went on with their day as if nothing has happened. However, Harry felt happy to tell his friends the truth, the whole truth, and felt a little closer to them as well. On his way to tell them, Harry worried about how this would change their relationship, however as he saw Draco go to Salazar to hold him, and as Salem jumped between his and Blaise’s lap and Crabbe started knitting, Harry found that there was nothing to worry about at all.

It was a couple of days after that, that Fred and George kidnapped Harry from his group of friends. They were done with classes and were on their way to the library when the Weasley twins showed up, hooked an arm each around Harry’s arms, and lifted him up with Fred saying, “Official business, snakes, you’ll get the one good snake when we’re done.”

Harry did not struggle and the two brought him into an empty classroom and sat him down on a table. “Really?” he huffed.

“Yes, really, now sit down and listen to what we’ve learned,” George said. He looked at Fred, who nodded.

“Cecil Harvey’s a Leo hates bugs and has been dating a Ravenclaw in his year for the past two years,” Fred said.

Harry raised an eyebrow, “Is that seriously it?” he asked.

“No, just thought to start there,” Fred grinned. “We’ve heard that he’s gotten almost all Outstandings and Exceeds Expectations on his O.W.L.s, a bit of a smarty-pants though he doesn’t really look like one, does he?”

“No, he really doesn’t. He doesn’t study at all and looks to think more with his muscles than brain,” George said. “In fact, the only time I’ve seen him in the library is when he’s meeting his girlfriend. They’ve been dating for a couple of years now I think. Rosa Wellington, a muggleborn.”

“What do we know about her?” Harry asked. His shock has worn off and he leaned forward, arching his fingers together as he stared between the two of them.

“Perfect couple from what we heard,” George shrugged. “But why does it matter?”

“I want to know everything I can about this man,” Harry said simply. “Everything you tell me can be helpful. So please, continue.” The twins shared a strange look, as though they were both worried and confused. However, George sighed and nodded.

“Well, it’s not official but I heard that Cecil was planning on proposing to her on graduation,” the twin said. “However, uhh from what I heard… Cecil isn’t really known for being nice if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t, please explain,” Harry said shortly.

“Look, Harry—”

“I said, explain, George,” Harry interrupted.

The twins jumped and again they shared a shocked look. Harry could almost imagine them wondering ‘what did we get into?’ but didn’t care about it. Fred cleared his throat and said, “The older boys were talking, you know, guy stuff, and one guy heard from another guy who claims that Cecil was, well, bragging about his uhh multiple ‘conquests’ over the summer.” Fred’s cheeks turned red. Harry stared at him innocently and the twins shuffled awkwardly.

“Conquests?” Harry asked.

“Yeah but look Harry you are way too young for this—”

“So you mean, Cecil Harvey has cheated on Rosa by being sexual with these other girls?” Harry asked.

“HARRY! What—what are you saying? Where did you even learn about that?” Fred demanded.

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry shrugged. “Do we know if these actions... did the girls allow him to do that or…”

“Harry, look mate, I don’t think we should talk about this stuff,” Fred said. “Honestly, we just want a laugh at him right? Why not just turn his hair color, have his clothes fly him around, and land him in pudding?”

“Because that would be too kind, Fred,” Harry said. “This man has harmed Theo. He harmed me and he harmed you two as well. I can almost forgive hurting myself, but hurting my friends is unforgivable. If we dueled, I know he would win, so I need to do something—anything—to make sure he gets what is owed. That is why I do not want to do simple pranks on him, I want to destroy his life. Kill his reputation. I want his life to be hard coming out of Hogwarts.” He did not sound like his same innocent self. His eyes turned an icy green, a deep scowl set in his lips and he sounded rough. The twins stared at Harry, and he knew that they were scared. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to scare you two, honest. I just, I hate feeling weak. I’ve been weak all my life before my mentor saved me. I never want to be like that again but seeing Cecil treat us this way—it made me feel weak all over again. If you don’t want to help me, I understand. Just please, don’t tell anyone, okay?”

The twins stayed still. Fred’s fists clenched and unclenched as George just looked between the two of them. “Merlin’s balls,” Fred muttered. “I’m going to hate this but Harry, what are you planning?”

Harry gave a cold smile, “It’s simple really. We just need to spread rumors. About his grades, and maybe even about those girls during the summer. If you want to prank him on top of that, that is up to you, just leave me out of it. My plan is to simply spread rumors, and watch him crumble.”

“Merlin Harry…” George whispered, “you know you’re a scary Slytherin?”

“I know,” Harry hummed. He thought for a moment, wondering if it would be safe to use the voice-changing spell on the twins for this. He could see no other way if they keep on spreading rumors then their voices might become recognizable, which would be a problem. Harry wanted the three of them to stay anonymous. He wanted the rumors to come from both anywhere and nowhere. Besides, it was just a harmless dark spell, Harry was sure that, if needed, he can convince the twins why it was necessary, and okay to do if they found out. “Actually, the best part is that we don’t even need to spread the rumors. I mean we’ll be saying them, but it won’t be our voices,” Harry said. He slid off his desk and stepped towards Fred. “Can I?” he asked softly, pointing to his head, “I just need one strain of hair.”

“Uh okay—ow!” Fred said as Harry plucked a piece of hair out. He held it in his hand and muttered, “Voxminicus!” the hair disappeared, and Harry grinned.

“Well, how do I sound?” Harry asked in Fred’s voice, “Pretty impressive, ain’t it?”

George laughed, “Listen to him, Fred! We found our long-lost triplet!”

“Shame he’s so short though, but I guess he can be the cute one,” Fred said, grinning. “That is an actually amazing trick, Harry, where did you learn that?”

“Some seventh years taught it to me,” Harry shrugged. “Point is we can spread the rumors about his grades and cheating—only cheating—using different people’s voices! We just need a piece of their hair and voila! It lasts for an hour but they also taught me the canceling charm.” He pointed his wand at his throat, “Voxnormicus!” He cleared his throat and said in his normal voice, “Pretty handy huh?”

“Absolutely,” George grinned. “Know what, if it’s just spreading rumors like that, we’ll do it. Who knows, for all we know this bloke really did cheat on his O.W.L.s.”

“It just still feels a bit, I don’t know,” Fred said, frowning. “Bloke deserves it, I guess, but Harry the way you’re going about this, especially with how far, it kind of scares me.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry apologized once more.

“It’s fine, it was just… unexpected,” Fred sighed. “We’re with you, aren’t we George?”

“We are indeed, Fred,” George nodded. Harry smiled at them and, in a split-second decision, hugged them both.

“Great, then let’s get started,” he smiled. “I can get hair for you two, just make sure to talk about Cecil and his grades and cheating.”

“And his girlfriend?” Fred asked.

“I’ll handle that,” Harry said. “Don’t worry about it. But if you really want to help with that, just mention his other girlfriends.”

“Okay,” Fred nodded. George just grinned and slapped his twin’s back, “This is exciting, eh?” Fred grinned back and they looked at Harry.

Harry just shook his head and said, “I’ll get you hairs by tomorrow. Remember, they only last an hour without the counter jinx.”

Harry was able to get hair from older years from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff for him and the Weasley Twins to use to spread the rumors. They gathered in an empty classroom near the library and Harry gave the twins their hair. “Remember, make sure nobody sees you,” he said. “I trust you guys know how to do that?”

“Relax Harry, we have conversations with ourselves all the time,” George smiled.

Harry just nodded and together they did the Voice Mimicking spell. Harry cleared his voice until it sounded like a sixteen-year-old girl as the twins’ voices were extremely deeper. “Okay, let’s go,” Harry said.

The three went into the library, and Harry smiled as he saw it was full. They split up, with Harry going to the bookshelves as the twins stuck together on the other side of the library. Harry walked through the bookshelves and started muttering to himself in an audible voice, “Stupid Harvey, I can’t believe that Professor McGonagall keeps praising him. Does she even know he cheated on every one of her tests?” Harry stopped as he saw a group of Gryffindors on the other side of the bookshelf. They glanced at the books, trying to see who was complaining, but Harry stood behind several books that hid him. “I even heard that cheated on his O.W.L.s! How he is so praised is beyond me.”

“Woah—is that true?” he heard someone whispered.

He laughed. “Yeah, I mean have you even see him studying at all? Do you think he’s naturally intelligent? As if. I’ve seen him actually talking with some Ravenclaws, and they looked rather scared.”

“Woah, no way!”

“Yeah, but that’s not the worst of it,” Harry nodded. “Like I said, I heard that he cheated on his O.W.L.s. Apparently he had the answers written in his robes or something.”

“No way! Where did you hear that?”

“A group of Hufflepuffs who heard it from a Ravenclaw, apparently he’s been bullying them for the last two years and now with N.E.W.T.s coming up at the end of the year, they’re afraid he’ll start it over again,” Harry whispered.

“That’s awful!”

“It is,” Harry nodded, “but hey, you didn’t hear it from me, okay? I don’t want to get in trouble with him.”

“No worries, it’s safe with me,” the Gryffindor said. Without even checking to see who she was talking to, the Gryffindor ran back to her friends and Harry heard her whisper, “Guys you’ll never believe this!”

Harry smiled and walked on, muttering angrily to himself in the older girl’s voice about Cecil Harvey and his cheating ways. People overheard him, but never saw him, and wherever he went, whispers followed. An hour later, Harry met up with Fred and George in the classroom. “So, how did it go?” Harry asked.

“Oh! You won’t believe that wicked Cecil Harvey!” Fred said, sounding like a noble lady. “He’s set to propose his girlfriend—oh you know the one, that lovely Rosa.”

“Oh yes I know her, she’s such a doll! So nice and sweet, I always see her helping first and second years in the library,” George said with an exaggerated sigh.

“Yes well, I heard that during the summer, Cecil never spends it with his girlfriend because he—gasp—has other girls on the side!” Fred continued.

“No!”

“Yes, muggles all of them. The boys heard him gloating all about them. They said—oh it makes me shudder to even think it!” Fred said.

“I’ll hold your hand and we’ll get through this together,” George said, grabbing Fred’s hand.

“Thank you, now—I heard that he ‘played around’ with these poor muggle girls! All without poor Rosa’s knowing,” Fred sighed.

“The scoundrel!”

“The absolute fiend, yes,” Fred nodded. “I would go and tell Rosa but I just don’t want to see her so heartbroken! I don’t know what to do.”

“Let’s not think about such wretched things then, it has horrible effects on your complexion. Come, we have an evil little snake to speak to,” George sighed.

“Yes, let’s go,” Fred said. They both grinned at Harry and bowed.

“Brilliant!” Harry grinned. “I heard the entire library was whispering so I think our job is done.”

“It is?” Fred asked.

“Uh-huh, the rumors are starting to spread. I’ll spread it some more if needed, but I’m sure the others will do it themselves,” Harry said. And they did. Harry made sure to keep an ear open for the rest of the month and couldn’t help but smile whenever he heard Cecil Harvey’s name being whispered, even around the Slytherin common room. Older years talked about him as though he was the plague, the girls cursing him out on how he treated his girlfriend as the boys just shook their heads disappointed.

February passed with the school talking about no one else but Cecil. Harry even noticed that even the teachers have heard the rumors. Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout both glanced at Cecil Harvey every now and again, frowning and talked with each other. There was a palpable tension hanging in the air over the Gryffindor Table, and Harry just relaxed as he watched it grew and grew. Cecil became more irritable, glaring at anyone who would dare look his way. Fred and George told him that he and his friends took to yelling at everyone who dared to talk ill about him, which only further isolated the seventh-year from the rest of the House. Harry used the Voice Mimicking spell once again to spread this little fact and focused on his own studies.

March brought warming temperatures thankfully, as well as Ostara finally coming closer. The holiday was March 21^st, and Harry couldn’t wait. He had nothing else to do with Cecil Harvey, all he had to do was watch the teen fall. A week before Ostara, Harry walked into lunch with his friends as always when they heard a scream. Gryffindor Table was in chaos, Cecil Harvey and a beautiful girl were screaming at each other.

Harry assumed that the girl was Rosa with how angry she was yelling. Honestly, most of what they were arguing went over his head. He heard mentions of the rumors he made and smirked. “You awful pig! I feel I don’t even know you! Cheating on every test you had? Affairs with muggle girls—and who knows who else! Cecil, you are awful, I’m done!”

“Baby no—” Cecil started but Rosa whipped her wand and Cecil’s nose twitched as bats flew out of it and started to fly around his head. Rosa stomped out of the Great Hall as Cecil tried to run after her, the bats chasing him all the while.

The Great Hall was silent for a moment. Harry looked up at the Great Hall and watched as Professor McGonagall stood up, looking exhausted as she walked calmly after the two. Then, the hall erupted in noise.

Harry felt extremely victorious. He grabbed a pitcher of pumpkin juice and filled his and Theo’s cups. He couldn’t hold back his smile as he raised his glass and winked at Theo, who stared at him for a moment before realization hit. Theo gave Harry a small smile, and they shared a drink.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

The Philosopher’s Stone

Harry arrived at the catacombs on Ostara ten minutes before he was supposed to. He felt sort of exhilarated about tonight. He was going to bring his master back! Voldemort was going to get his body again! Harry couldn’t wait for that and to hug him properly at last after so long. He could barely stay still as he waited, bouncing from one foot to the other until he heard a door opened and he looked up to see Professor Quirrell walking towards him.

Quirrell looked weak, extremely weak, and fearful. He whimpered and jumped slightly at the sight of Harry. “P-P-Potter? Wh-what—no, no my lord please don’t— “

He went silent for a moment and then he stared at Harry, any fear disappeared. “Harry, you’re early,” Lord Voldemort said.

“I couldn’t wait, I’m sorry,” Harry said.

Voldemort chuckled. “I cannot wait either,” he said. “I will admit Harry, I miss your touch. Now, before we head out, I want to take a moment to remind both of us of the trials again. Do you remember?”

Harry thought for a moment and nodded, “I think I remember most of them,” he said. “First there’s the three-headed dog.”

“Yes, a Cerberus was given to the school to protect the Stone by the groundskeeper Hagrid,” Voldemort nodded.

“How are we going to get past it?” Harry asked.

“Music. I’ve had Quirrell, incompetent though he may be, smuggle in a dragon’s egg. Disguised and robed, Quirrell met with Hagrid when he was in Hogsmeade at a place called Hog’s Head, a rather dirty bar if I say so myself, and over drinks and a few card games, gained the giant’s trust, and a trade was made. The dragon egg for information on the Cerberus. Though of course, he did not know that. The long story short, my little snake, is that music will soothe this savage beast,” Voldemort explained.

Harry nodded, “So we just play music for the dog and it’ll fall asleep?”

“Yes, now do you remember what is after that?” Voldemort asked.

“Yes! Professor Sprout’s Devil’s Snare,” Harry nodded.

“Good. All you have to do when we reach them is to relax,” Voldemort said. “I’ll explain more when we are there. Now afterward, is Flitwick’s trivial trial and the flying keys, and then—”

“McGonagall with the living chess!” Harry jumped excitedly, “and then Quirrell’s with the troll that you’ll kill and Snape’s riddle.”

“Then whatever contrivance Dumbledore himself has left for us,” Voldemort said. “Luck seems to be on our side. The staff has talked about how Dumbledore was called into the Ministry just an hour ago.”

“Why was he called there?” Harry asked.

“Who can tell, I would hazard Cornelius Fudge is being his incompetent self,” Voldemort said. “The point, my little snake, is that now is the perfect time to strike.” Harry smiled and they left together, Voldemort leading the way out of the catacombs. They went through the dungeons and for a moment Harry thought they would go to the entrance hall when Voldemort led him to a staircase Harry hasn’t found yet. Up they went through secret staircases and deserted corridors until they reached a door, on the other side of which Harry could hear a deep rumbling. The dog was awake.

Voldemort unlocked the door with a simple tap of Quirrell’s wand. The door swung open and Harry’s heart jumped to his throat at the sight of the three-headed dog. He took a step back instinctively, but Voldemort stopped him. The Dark Lord pressed a hand to Harry’s back and pushed him forward as they entered the room together. Harry’s eyes never left the dog’s heads. They all looked at the two wizards sleepily. The middle head seemed the most awake, snarling at them, showing giant sharp yellow teeth. Voldemort ignored the dog and waved Quirrell’s wand. A harp appeared and the dogs started barking. Harry screamed and jumped back just as the harp began to play a soft tune.

Instantly, the heads started to lull, giving huge yawns before the dog plopped onto the floor and started to snore. Voldemort stepped towards it and Harry did his best to catch his breath. He saw the Dark Lord knelt over something and stepped hesitantly towards him, his eyes always on the sleeping heads.

“I didn’t scream,” Harry muttered. He saw the Voldemort was working on a trapdoor.

“Of course you didn’t, little snake,” Voldemort said, sounding clearly amused. He pulled at the trapdoor, which opened with a loud creak. Harry looked up at the Cerberus to see that it was still sleeping. They both looked down the trapdoor to see nothing but darkness. However, as Harry squint, he thought he could see something writhing.

“What now?” Harry whispered.

“We fall,” Voldemort said, and he slipped down into the trapdoor. Harry gasped at his master’s action and immediately followed after him. Cold, damp air rushed past Harry as he fell down, down, down, and—

FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump, he landed on something soft. He sat up and felt around, his eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as though he was sitting on some sort of plant. He raised his hand and waved his finger in a circle. Orbs of light appeared, and Harry looked around. He saw his Master sitting calmly among thick tendrils of vines. His legs were already being wrapped by the vines and Harry gasped. “Master!”

“This is Devil’s Snare, Harry. You must relax,” Voldemort ordered. “However you are smart to summon your light. Light makes them stop moving, you see,” he motioned to the vines around his legs. “However, if you want them to recoil. It is fire you require.” He aimed Quirrell’s wand and said calmly, “Incendio.”

Fire shot from the wand and hit the vines. There was a strange squishy sound as the vines all scattered to move away from the fire. The binds on Harry and Voldemort loosened, and Harry found themselves sinking even further down. His ball of light followed them, the vines recoiling as though it was toxic to them. The floor was a couple of feet below them, and soon Harry was able to wrestle himself free and stand up. His master was already standing by a stone passageway. He was leaning against it, breathing heavily.

“Tom!” Harry said, running towards the man. “Tom—are you alright master?”

“I am fine,” Voldemort breathed. “It is Quirrell’s body. I can feel it failing around me. I told you my little snake, the man is weak. There was only so long I could go… without recharging my strength.” Harry whimpered and reached out towards him. “Harry don’t!” Voldemort snapped as Harry closed his eyes and started to pull at his magic. Voldemort gripped Harry’s arm roughly and jolted the boy. “You fool! Have you forgotten what I told you? If we mixed your magic and his we could have killed him faster!”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to help,” Harry whimpered. Voldemort sneered and let go of Harry’s arm.

“We are almost at our goal Harry, do not lose focus,” Voldemort said. “I still have enough energy for this at least.”

Harry nodded and looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Voldemort sighed, “It is fine Harry just, let’s go. We are through two trials, and only five to go.” Harry nodded and followed Voldemort down the stone passageway. They moved in silence, Harry watching his master carefully as the man led the way. Harry’s ball of light was the only light in the tunnel as it gently slopped downwards. He could only hear their footsteps and the gentle drip of water from the ceiling. As they moved on, however, Harry started to hear a new sound. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead. Harry glanced up at Voldemort who moved on without a word.

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door. Voldemort looked up at the birds and squinted. Harry did too and gave a gasp, “They’re keys!”

“Indeed,” Voldemort muttered. “One of those keys must be for the door on the other side if I can hazard a guess.”

“We can’t use an unlocking charm?” Harry asked.

“No, it is mostly warded against it. We will have to play Flitwick’s game,” Voldemort said, looking around. He found broomsticks near the locked door and smirked, “or rather you will. Simply fly up and catch the key we need.”

“Which one?” Harry asked as they walked across the hall. The keys continued to fly around undisturbed. Voldemort looked at the lock and muttered for a moment. “It will be old and rather large, maybe even silver to match the lock,” he said, pointing to the lock. Harry nodded and took a broomstick. He kicked off and was in the air.

It was a great rush to fly! It’s been a while since Harry was able to. Between classes and his revenge against Harvey, Harry found little time to sneak away with Blaise and Draco to fly around in the Quidditch pitch. He did some laps, just to show off, and began to fly around the group of keys, keeping his eyes peeled for the large silver key.

There! He found it in the middle of the crowd! The key was large and silver with bright blue wings. Harry dived towards it only for the cloud of keys to swarm around him. Harry had to pull away and try again. He leaned as close to his broom as he could and darted straight into the cloud of keys. The keys flew around faster, some scrapping Harry’s arms and legs but he gritted through it as he stretched out his hand. He grabbed the key and instantly barreled out of the swarm and flew towards his Master.

Voldemort took the key and jammed it into the lock, crumbling one of its wings in the process, and unlocked the door. The key fell out and flew upwards to join the others as Harry and Voldemort continued on.

“Impressive flying,” was all Voldemort said, but it was enough to make Harry’s heart swell. They walked through the next passageway, and Harry wondered how they would pass through Professor McGonagall’s trial. He hoped that it wasn’t particularly dangerous but had a feeling that it would be.

They stepped into the next chamber and Harry couldn’t help but gasp. They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were taller than a full adult and carved from what looked to be black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Harry shivered as he saw they had no faces. Behind the white chess pieces, Harry could see the door moving on.

“A chess game, how quaint,” Voldemort chuckled.

“So, we just have to win the game?” Harry asked.

“I believe so,” Voldemort nodded. He looked annoyed and scowled, “If that is the case, then white will go first.” He looked over at the white pieces, but they did not move. He frowned. “What are they waiting for?”

Harry stepped towards a knight and pressed his hand against the piece. It sprung to life and looked down at Harry. It pointed at Harry then at itself and the other pieces, moving a bit out of the way. Harry thought about it for a moment and turned to Voldemort. “Master, I think we need to take the places of two of the pieces.”

“Is that true?” Voldemort asked and the knight nodded. A scowl appeared on Voldemort’s face. “Very well. I shall replace the king. Harry, take your place as queen.”

The black king and queen pieces moved off of the board and Voldemort stood in the King’s space as Harry moved to the queen’s. “Harry, obey every command,” Voldemort said and Harry nodded. He looked over at the white pieces and swallowed fear that appeared instantly as the white pieces moved. A white pawn moved two spaces forward, and Voldemort has his own pawn move to meet it.

The white’s bishop moved forward far across the board, and Voldemort shook his head. He ordered a pawn to advance and, predictably, the white bishop moved back to behind its pawn. Voldemort ordered his left knight out and Harry’s legs started to shake. What would happen if they would lose? No. He shouldn’t think like that. They weren’t going to lose. There was no way. He had to put trust in his lord.

The white queen took to the field, moving to behind the bishop and Voldemort paused for a moment. He moved his freed bishop to stand in front of his knight. “Eventually, one side will lose their first piece,” Voldemort muttered to Harry. “It does not matter how much we lose, as long as we take its king.”

Harry just nodded as the white pieces moved their own knight out. On and on it went, both sides moving pieces forwards and back as neither of them lost any pieces. Voldemort barked his orders, his eyes moving around carefully for an opening, a quick and decisive blow that would cripple the white forces. Then he saw it. The white forces moved its knight too close to them, and Voldemort ordered his bishop to take it.

Harry jumped as their own bishop sprung to action, pulling the knight off of its horse and smashing the horse to pieces with the knight before dragging both off the board and returning to its place. The white side retaliated by taking a pawn, but Voldemort simply had another pawn take its knight, and just like that the enemy lost both its knights. Finally, the white queen stepped onto the field, moving one space diagonal. “Harry, move two spaces forward!” Voldemort ordered, and Harry did, standing behind the bishop that took the first knight. That bishop was then killed by a pawn and Harry screamed as he stared at the faceless chess piece, its swords at the ready it seemed to cut Harry down.

“Stay where you are! You’re safe,” Voldemort said before moving the pawn next to Harry one space forward. The white bishop took it and Voldemort smirked. “Step in front of the bishop, Harry,” he ordered. Harry did so and swallowed. He just had to trust in his Tom.

The whites moved a pawn upwards, and Voldemort used their other knight to take the bishop in front of Harry. The whites moved a pawn two spaces up in an attempt to get Harry. “Harry, kill the pawn to your right,” Voldemort ordered. Harry stepped into the white pawn’s space and it just walked off of the board. He turned and stared at the pawn that moved last move.

The game played on, with Voldemort giving the orders. They’ve lost a knight but took another pawn in retaliation. Voldemort played brutally, only showing concern for himself and Harry, moving other pieces in the way to protect Harry while moving himself minimally to avoid any loss. Before Harry knew it, most of the pieces were gone, with white on their last stands. Voldemort has managed to corner the white king in between a pawn and rook at the edge of the board. His knight was poised in the enemy lines along with Harry who stood diagonal to a rook that was next to the pawn. “Harry. Take the rook and end this tiresome game!” Voldemort ordered. Harry nodded and took the rook. He looked at the white faceless king and said, “Checkmate!”

The king’s sword fell, and the door forward opened. “Finally,” Voldemort sighed. He strode across the board and joined with Harry. “Come along, we are almost done and have wasted too much time here,” he said. Harry nodded and followed his lord.

Halfway through the passageway, Voldemort slumped against the wall and breathed heavily. “Tom!” Harry shouted.

“I am fine,” Voldemort huffed. “Just give me a moment. I can feel the imbecile dying, we are running out of time.” Harry nodded and waited for his Lord. Voldemort eventually stood up and took a breath. “Quirrell’s is next,” he muttered. “Should be a simple matter.”

They opened the door and a horrible stench filled Harry’s nose. Harry pulled his robes up to his nose as his eyes watered. In front of the two of them, sitting with its back turned, was a huge troll with gray skin. Voldemort simply pointed Quirrell’s wand at the troll before it could even turn around and hissed, “Avada Kedavra!” A poisonous green light jetted from the wand and hit the troll, which fell to the ground.

Harry gasped, this was the first time he saw his Master use the Killing Curse, although he taught Harry about it in full detail along with the other two Unforgivable Curses. Voldemort moved on without another glance at the dead troll and Harry ran to follow.

The stench was gone as soon as the door closed behind them, and Harry was relieved to enter the next room which was a simple small chamber with seven differently shaped bottles standing in the row. As soon as they entered the room, however, purple fire sprang up behind them and black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. Voldemort moved calmly towards the table and picked up a roll of paper lying next to the bottles.

“Of course he would do something like this,” Voldemort muttered. “He must think I am daft.”

“What is it?” Harry asked curiously.

“A riddle. One of these potions will allow us to move onward, while three will kill us, one will allow us to move back to the previous chamber and two only contain wine,” Voldemort said, reading the riddle to himself and translating it to Harry. “I don’t believe we have ever done many lessons on riddles; besides that Tolkien book you’ve enjoyed.” Harry just smiled ruefully at that.

“I can figure it out,” Harry said, and Voldemort raised an eyebrow. “Please master, let me try!”

“Very well, here you are,” Voldemort said, and he gave Harry the roll of paper. “I will give you fifteen minutes starting when you have finished reading.” Harry nodded and opened the roll of paper, reading it for himself.

"Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,
One among us seven will let you move ahead,
Another will transport the drinker back instead,
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.
Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;
Second, different are those who stand at either end,
But if you would move onwards neither is your friend;
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight."

Harry hummed and read it three more times before he looked up from the scroll. His head felt full, he knew he was running on adrenaline; however he did not want to disappoint his master, so he had to concentrate. The two poisons on the end would not help them out, that much was obvious, and the riddles said that the poison would always be on the wine’s left, which meant that the potion on the right end, which was the biggest bottle, would lead them back. This meant that the potion on the far left side was poison, and so nettle wine was next to it. Which led Harry to believe, after rereading the fourth clue, that the bottle next to the giant bottle on the right-hand side would also be nettle wine, even though the two bottles looked completely different, and because poison would always be on the wine’s left that meant that the next bottle in the sequence would be the poison. Harry smiled as he figured it out, slowly labeling the potions as he went.

So from left to right, we have poison, wine, something, something, poison, wine, and a way back, he thought. He looked at the two unknown bottles left. One was a very small blue bottle and the other was a regular-sized white bottle. The blue bottle was the smallest of the bottles and he smiled as he picked it up and turned to Voldemort. “This will lead us to the Stone,” he said.

“Impressive,” Voldemort said. “You are intelligent Harry, that is a fact, however, we must also bemoan the fact that our dear friend Severus has devised a life-threatening riddle that even an eleven-year-old can solve.” He took the bottle and drank half of it and gave the rest to Harry. Harry felt a sudden chill go through his body and the two stepped through the black flames. The fire licked and touched Harry’s skin, but nothing burned. The black fire seemed to go on and on but all of a sudden, it stopped, and they were standing in the final chamber.

The final chamber was big, too big for Harry’s liking, with a ring of fire that lit the room. In the middle, standing almost perfectly too innocently, was the Mirror of Erised. Voldemort and Harry approached the mirror, Voldemort frowning.

“A mirror? But why?” he muttered.

“Master, I know what this is!” Harry said. “It’s the Mirror of Erised. It shows the viewer’s greatest desire.”

“Then, perhaps the Stone is somehow inside it?” Voldemort muttered. He breathed deeply and frowned. “Rest… I need rest. We must find the stone soon.” He stood in front of the mirror and stared.

Harry wondered what it was that his master was looking at. Voldemort’s expression softened, and he looked both hopeful and sad at whatever it was that he was staring at. Voldemort reached out for the mirror and pressed his hand against its surface. “I’m sorry,” Voldemort whispered, and Harry’s heart broke. “My little snakes.”

Voldemort composed himself and stepped away, turning to Harry. “The Stone will not appear to me,” he said. “Harry, I must trust this to you.”

Harry nodded. He took a breath and stepped in front of the mirror. He saw himself just as he was. Wearing his emerald knitted sweater with a few cuts and bruises on his face and hands from the keys and chess match. He looked dirty, tired, yet exhilarated. The Harry inside the mirror smiled at him and slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out a blood ruby stone. The reflection then placed it back into his pocket and Harry felt a weight drop inside his own pocket. He reached slowly and gasped when he felt something inside his pocket. It was the Stone!

“Did it work?”

Harry turned to Voldemort and smiled. He stepped towards his Master and pulled out the Philosopher’s Stone. “It’s here, Master,” he said. Voldemort returned his smile.

“Then let us begin right away,” he said, and with a wave of his wand, a table appeared along with a stone cauldron and several ingredients that he did not recognize. Voldemort made his way to the table and placed the stone on it as he turned his attention to the stone cauldron.

“What is this?” Harry asked.

“Ingredients to make a Potion that will give me my body back,” Voldemort said. “However, not all of the ingredients are on the table. This is a redesign of the Elixir of Life that the Flamels use, Harry. It invokes Dark Magic, instead of being entirely neutral which the Elixir of Life normally is.”

“What do you need? I’ll get it, Master,” Harry said.

“Blood and flesh,” Voldemort said.

“I’ll give it!” Harry said immediately.

Voldemort chuckled. “My little snake, you’ll do no such thing. We have everything we need here.” He indicated to Quirrell’s body and smirked. “All I need you to do is give the Philosopher’s Stone some of your magic. Just hold it and concentrate, just like when you’ve given me your magic.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded.

Harry nodded and took the Philosopher’s Stone. It felt oddly heavy and prickled slightly at his touch. He watched Voldemort work, filling the cauldron with water, and started adding ingredients as he stirred the cauldron with his wand. “Harry, your magic,” Voldemort said and Harry jumped slightly.

He held the stone close to him and closed his eyes. He could feel his magic humming just inside him and he pulled at it. He allowed his magic to travel down his arms and into his hands where it surrounded the stone. The prickling sensation increased, and Harry brought the stone to his lips unconsciously and pressed his lips against the cold ruby stone. He could feel more of his magic transferring to the stone and for the first time in a long while, his scar started to burn. It was the Horcrux, the small sliver of his Master’s soul inside him. Was it giving Harry and the stone its own magic? Or was it simply pushing Harry on? He did not know or care as he smiled at the reminder that he would always have a piece of Voldemort inside him.

“Open your eyes, Harry,” Voldemort breathed, and Harry did, blushing lightly. Harry stepped towards the cauldron and Voldemort instructed him to hold the stone over it. Harry did so and watched as the stone began to seep a red liquid into the cauldron. The liquid never reached his hands, only spilled from the bottom of the stone in a steady stream until the potion took a light-red color. The Philosopher Stone’s ruby color started to dull until it turned ruddy like dried blood, then the stream of liquid stopped.

Harry set the stone to the side and watched as Voldemort muttered over the potion, waving Quirrell’s wand in intricate motions. The rest of the potion ingredients floated around them, tipping their contents with a simple tap of the wand but Voldemort’s gaze never left the potion that boiled in the stone cauldron and he never stopped his incantation.

Soon, the cauldron was bubbling madly, and Voldemort finally stopped his chanting and turned to Harry. He pulled from the pocket of his robes a long knife with runs carved into it. Harry stared up at his master and frowned. He looked weak. Quirrell’s body was more obviously failing, his skin was becoming deathly pale and sunken in. His fingers were unnaturally long and skeletal. The turban that Quirrell has always worn looked too big for his head and began to slide off to the side. “Harry.” Voldemort’s voice sounded raspy, like a breeze caught on the wind.

“Master?”

“Turn around Harry. I do not want you to see what Quirrell has to do,” Voldemort commanded.

“But Tom—”

“Harry, that is an order as your mentor and Master. Turn around. You do not need to see this,” Voldemort ordered. Harry wanted to argue but did as he was told. He took a few steps back and looked at Voldemort and the potion one last time. “Do not turn until you are ordered. … Soon I will touch you again.”

Harry nodded and steeled himself as he turned around. He closed his eyes and forced himself to stay like that. From behind him, he heard Quirrell’s voice. It wasn’t his master, but the man himself. “We—we have it. Oh, Master thank you! Yes, yes, I know what needs to be done. Then we will kill Potter and you will give me the power I deserve, yes?” Silence. Harry did not feel afraid, he knew his master would never betray him. “Yes, I know what I must do,” Quirrell said. Footsteps followed, and Harry assumed that the man was in front of the cauldron.

Then the screaming began.

It was horrible, loud, and full of pain. Harry wanted to turn around. He wanted to take a small peek at what Quirrell was doing to make the man scream so much. But he was ordered not to. So he just stood there, his back to the potion and his eyes closed. The screaming, however, did not stop and Harry had to clamp his hands over his ears to try and block out the noise. He did not know how long he stood there with his eyes shut and ears covered. His world was just around him, it felt weird as though he was just standing on a tiny platform that he couldn’t step off from.

Suddenly a hand touched his shoulder. Harry jumped then a deep voice, sounding completely different from Quirrell breathed against his covered ears, “Put your hands down little snake, you can look now.”

Harry slowly lowered his arms, which felt sore from staying against his ears for so long, and turned slowly as he opened his eyes. Standing before him was a very handsome teenager looking around fifteen years old. His eyes were dark brown and held intelligence way beyond his years, and his black hair was short and neat, waving slightly in the front. He had a victorious smirk and was wearing black robes. “Hello, my little snake,” Tom Riddle chuckled.

Harry latched onto him, hugging the teen as he found himself crying. He felt Tom’s arms around him and smiled. “We did it, we did it,” Harry said.

“Yes, we did,” Tom chuckled. “Now please look up at me, Harry.” Harry did so and his cheeks blushed red as Tom pressed his lips against Harry’s scar gently. “How I missed this,” he muttered. “A small reward for all you have done.”

“Master,” Harry whispered. Tom did not let Harry go, instead, he hooked an arm around his side.

“I must admit I did not expect to regain my youth,” Lord Voldemort chuckled. “This must be because of your influence, Harry.”

“You look… really good,” Harry said as his cheeks continued to blush. Why was he blushing so much? He was happy to see his master again, but he’s seen his master before as an older boy, so why did it matter now?

“Yes, I am happy to have regained my looks,” Voldemort smirked, “but now we just have one more small business to deal with.” He pointed an elegant finger towards Professor Quirrell, who was laying on the ground near the table. Blood was seeping from under his robes. “He is not dead, yet, however as I have told you he is dying.”

“What did he do?” Harry asked.

“Gave me his hands as well as his blood,” Voldemort said. “I have promised him eternal power and glory while believing that I was only using you, little snake.”

“He’s a fool,” Harry hummed.

“Indeed, however, we cannot keep him here,” Voldemort said. “He will die in the hour, either way, however, I think we should leave him in a place a little less… forbidden?”

Harry nodded and smiled he couldn’t help but hug his mentor again and even get on the tip of his toes to kiss Tom’s cheek. “I missed touching you,” he muttered. “You make me feel safe.”

“It was agony holding you in that man’s body,” Voldemort muttered, “but no more. Come along, let us find a suitable place for trash such as him.” He took Quirrell’s wand and waved it. Quirrell’s body floated upwards, and Harry looked away as he saw blood still dripping from the dying body.

Harry looked around the chamber, hoping that they did not have to go through all the other chambers again, and found a door hidden behind a pillar and fire. He pointed it out to his master, and they walked towards it. The fire died as they neared, and the door opened by itself. Harry led the way. He held Voldemort’s hand all the way and couldn’t help but smile. Voldemort’s hand felt good against his. Strong, firm, and just right.

They climbed the stairway and Harry wondered where it would bring them. With their task done, Harry just now felt how tired he was. His legs felt like jelly and every step felt as though he was going to slip and turn to mush. He kept at it, however, and before he knew it, the stairs ended and turned into a mossy slope and the walls around them had ivy.

They came out at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It did not look familiar at all; they were still surrounded by the dark trees but still, Harry felt that they were not near where Harry and the Slytherins performed their rituals on Samhain nor Hogwarts. Voldemort dropped Quirrell’s body unceremoniously and turned to Harry.

Harry did not like the sad look Voldemort was giving him. “Tom?”

“I know it pains you Harry, but for the moment we must be separate once more,” Voldemort said. “It would be hard to explain how a new teenager would suddenly appear at Hogwarts, and I will need time to reacquaint with my new body.”

“But I just got you back,” Harry said sadly. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know you don’t, but we must separate, if only until the summer,” Voldemort said sadly. “There are things I must plan out. I must also make sure that our enchantments on those muggles stay strong. But do not worry, you know I will always be with you.” He caressed Harry’s cheek and smiled.

“I know, but I’m still going to miss you,” Harry muttered.

“Then listen to me, two final orders until we see each other again,” Voldemort said. “You are going to go to the castle and scream for help. Tell them that Professor Quirrell kidnapped you as you walked your way to the library for late-night studying. He brought you to this forest sprouting nonsense that you do not understand. He wanted you, Harry, he believed he has formed a special bond with you due to how much you’ve visited him. You resisted, and in the struggle, your magic lashed out causing the man to cut his hands off instead of whatever it was he was planning. You left him on the ground bleeding. Now repeat that.”

“Professor Quirrell stole me when I was on the way to the library. I don’t know what he was muttering about—he wanted me, he kept calling me special and how happy it made him whenever I visited him after class for questions. He dragged me all the way to the Forbidden Forest—I didn’t know where we were. I struggled the whole way, and he turned his wand at me. He was going to do something to me, I don’t know, and I struggled more. I don’t know what happened after that. He cast a spell but instead of hurting me, it cut off his hands. I was so scared I ran away,” Harry repeated.

“Good, now make sure you sound scared when you recite it, my little snake, and add some tears as well,” Voldemort smiled. “Just think of me, how you wish to be at my side, and they will come.” He rubbed his thumb against Harry’s cheek and kissed his forehead. “Go now, and behave yourself, my little snake. Behave and get good grades, I know you can handle all of this.”

Voldemort gave Harry’s forehead a final kiss, pressing his lips against Harry’s scar and cheek before taking a step back. He smirked confidently at Harry and, with a half-turn, disappeared right in front of Harry.

Voldemort was right, the tears came easily for Harry. He sniffled swallowed heavily before he turned around and ran straight back to the castle.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18

Summer of ‘92

Everyone brought Harry’s story too easily. He arrived in the Great Hall screaming and was founded by both Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall. He cried through his whole story and was escorted to the Hospital Wing to be treated for his injuries, Professor Snape staying by his side. He was giving a Dreamless Sleep draught by Madam Pomfrey, and when he woke up he was surrounded by his friends who all stared at him worried. He gave them a small smile and did his best to reassure them.

Quirrell’s body was found later that day, and classes were canceled as the Professors all meet to figure out what to do. Professor Dumbledore has visited him with an Auror from the Ministry earlier that day and he told them the same story he told Snape and McGonagall. Dumbledore kept trying to meet Harry’s eyes, but the boy kept looking down at his lap as he fidgeted with his fingers. “Sir? Did I do something wrong?” he asked in a small, innocent voice.

Before Dumbledore could answer him, the Auror stepped in. “No Harry, you did not. The man was sick, and you did your best. Nobody knew about this side of him, isn’t that right, Dumbledore?”

“All too right, sadly,” Dumbledore answered. “This was truly an unexpected shock to everyone at Hogwarts. However, rest assured that we shall be more careful with his successor.” The Auror took that answer and walked out of the hospital wing with Dumbledore.

Madam Pomfrey did not allow Harry to leave his bed for two more days, and when he finally was able to leave the Hospital Wing the entire school knew about what supposably happened to Harry in the forest. Harry has gotten used to people staring at him. The staring lessened as Harry Potter started to become a common sight in school, and now he has only gotten the stares every now and again. But now, the entire school was watching him, and instead of amazement or jealousy in their eyes, all Harry saw was pity. Pity for the small eleven-year-old boy. Pity for what happened to him, for what he was too weak to stop. The older students crowded him, offering to walk him to class, and even provide extra help with his homework than what they usually give. The Gryffindors, for a time, stopped bullying him. Instead, some would only sneer and mutter insults at him, calling him a poof or a fairy.

It wasn’t until two days after Harry was released from the hospital wing that he finally had time to sit down with his friends and tell them what exactly happened that faithful night. They were sitting in the boys’ dormitory for privacy and Harry looked around them before smiling. “My Master is so handsome,” he said, “I can’t wait for you guys to see him.”

The others looked around. “You mean… he’s back?” Draco whispered. “The Dark Lord is back?”

“Uh-huh,” Harry smiled. “It was what we were doing on Ostara, and why Quirrell is dead.”

“You mean he didn’t kidnap you?” Blaise frowned.

“No, and I’m sorry I had you guys think of that for so long,” Harry sighed. “But I was never kidnapped. In fact, my master and I were planning against Quirrell and using him for so long.” Harry smiled and started to explain everything that happened during that night, pausing briefly every now and again to give context such as how Voldemort was using Quirrell to travel around, how Harry found out about all of the trails, and their preparations. When he was done, Harry smiled, “He kissed my forehead and then left. He promised to keep in touch, and I know he will, however, I still miss him honestly. I know that we have a lot to prepare for before he even thinks about calling on your parents again—yes I know about that, I’m sorry but please do not tell them yet—but like, I just can’t help but feel sad. I just got my Master back; I can finally hug him and have his kisses again and he’s gone.” Harry sighed deeply and he felt Blaise slipped his hand into his. Draco did the same on Harry’s other side.

“I can’t believe it,” Pansy whispered. “Potter—you sound like you’re in love with the Dark Lord!”

“I told you that I am going to marry him,” Harry said conversationally.

“By the dark,” Pansy muttered, “Potter just what is it you think you’re doing?”

“Helping my Master,” Harry smiled innocently. “You should see him now, like I said he’s so handsome. He looks like he’s fifteen now, which makes sense because before whenever he became human he always looked a couple of years older than me, but now he’s back and that’s his real body and it feels so good when he hugs me and kisses my forehead and cheeks!” He gushed and his cheeks turned red. “Sorry.”

“By the dark, the poor bloke’s lost it,” Blaise muttered. Harry’s blush deepened and he muttered “Sorry” again.

“No, no, don’t apologize,” Blaise said, “it’s just weird. You know, knowing that you’re going to marry the Dark Lord.”

“It’s weird talking about marriage in general,” Draco grumbled. “We’re only eleven! And only girls think about marriage.” He pointed at Pansy and Daphne, who glared at him in return.

“Sorry, it’s just, I can’t explain it without sounding weird,” Harry muttered.

“Does he even like you back?” Blaise asked.

“He must! Or he wouldn’t kiss or hug me so much,” Harry said excitedly. “And he tells me things that nobody else knows.”

“Like what?”

“Not telling, Draco,” Harry said, grinning at Draco’s disappointment. “Anyway, that was all I wanted to share with you guys, I was not attacked. The Dark Lord and I used Quirrell in order to get my Master his body back, and in the end, he repaid Quirrell with his death.”

“Then why was he missing his hands? Don’t tell me—”

“They were part of the potion,” Harry said frowning slightly. “He made me turn around and close my eyes and put my hands over my ears. But still, I could still have heard Quirrell’s screaming. It was horrible.”

“Oh Harry,” Blaise said, and he brought his best friend in for a hug. Draco followed quickly. The others sat back for a moment before Pansy grabbed Harry for herself and pulled him from the boys. “Honestly if we’re all getting Harry hugs, he should hug me first,” she said. “It’s only proper that you hug girls before the smelly boys! Come on Daphne!”

“Uh, okay,” Daphne said as the two hugged Harry. The boy’s cheeks were very crimson by now and he cleared his throat as he moved to sit next to Theo, who just slipped his hand on Harry’s lap.

“I like giving hugs, but I’m going to be okay,” he said. “I’m not some weak little boy you need to look after. I’m going to become the Dark Lord’s husband, so I’m going to have to be strong, right? I am strong. I’m strong, and I’ll prove it to everyone.”

“Harry, we know you’re strong,” Theo said gently. “We’re not hugging you because we think you’re weak, it’s because we care about you. And worry about you. When you were in the hospital wing, none of us could sleep. Especially Blaise.”

“I’m sorry I worried you, but I’ve always been fine,” Harry said. He gave them a smile and he felt like he convinced them.

The next day, it was announced that Professor Quirrell’s post would be replaced by a rather plain-looking man named Professor Frost, who was competent enough in Harry’s opinion. He had the kids practice their spells and taught fine enough, he wasn’t extraordinary in any sense but Harry thought that as a last-minute replacement the man was good enough. Besides, with Defense Against the Dark Arts once again filled it meant that Harry had less time to worry and count away the minutes until he was with Tom once more.

The rest of the school year went by pretty unremarkable. Harry acted like a normal student, and over time the rumors and pitiful looks sent his way died down. Harry did his finals at the end of the year and felt very good about them. His mood increased when he heard that Ron, Neville, and Hermione all gotten into trouble for sneaking into the third-floor corridor. However, when Harry saw them they did not look upset at all, but rather relieved. He couldn’t help but wonder how far they’ve gotten down there, or even how they figured it out at all.

Oh well, not his problem.

Harry felt a little sad to be leaving his friends for the summer, however, he was also excited to see Tom once more! The first years all piled into a compartment and talked excitedly about their summer plans. “What about you Harry? Any plans?” Blaise asked.

“Not really, but I think my mentor will find ways to keep us busy,” Harry said.

“Then why don’t you come to visit us? It’ll be fun,” Blaise grinned.

“Yeah, you have to come to Parkinson Manor! I will show you the best products for your hair and we’ll finally get a chance to fight that mop you call hair,” Pansy grinned. Harry just rolled his eyes. The rest of the train ride was the group making plans to see each other during the summer. Both Blaise and Draco made Harry promise to stay with them for at least a weekend each, and as the train slowly rolled into platform nine-and-three-quarters, the friends all lingered to say their goodbyes and hug each other.

Harry was half expecting to see Tom waiting for him on the platform, except he wasn’t. Instead, he found Uncle Vernon waiting silently on the other side of the barrier. His uncle silently took Harry’s trunk for himself, and Harry just carried Hedwig’s cage as Salazar was content to lay on his heating rock in his secret compartment.

The drive was silent. Uncle Vernon did not look at Harry, and Harry did not know what to say or even if he should say anything. So he just sat in the back and spent the ride petting Hedwig. When Uncle Vernon pulled into the driveway at Number 4 Privet Drive, Harry was shocked to see Dudley outside on all fours and weeding the garden. This was weird, very weird. Again Uncle Vernon silently pulled Harry’s trunk out of his car and pulled it along inside, the small Slytherin following.

He first saw Tom sitting in Uncle Vernon’s armchair as he read. His master looked up and smiled at Harry. “Welcome home, my little snake,” he purred.

“Tom! I missed you!” Harry carefully set Hedwig’s cage on a nearby table and ran towards Tom, hugging him. His master chuckled and ruffled Harry’s hair as they hugged. “What were you doing for the rest of the year?” Harry asked immediately.

“Perfecting our control over these muggles,” Lord Voldemort explained. “In our absence, the muggles went on their lives as normal, however, our influence seemed to have waned. The aunt, in particular, started to remember that you existed and began to quite furiously move your belongings back into the cupboard when I arrived.”

“Ohh, what did you do?” Harry asked.

“Punished her, naturally,” Tom chuckled. “But enough talk about peons. I want to hear about the rest of your year. There was a small article about our friend Quirrell, but surprisingly there was no mention of you.”

“Oh,” Harry replied. He didn’t really know what to say besides that. “Anyway, the uh rest of my year was alright. We had this replacement, but I forgot his name. But even so, I made sure to be top in that class. I’m pretty sure I’ve even beaten Granger at the final exam, I’ve got an Outstanding!”

“Good,” Voldemort hummed.

“And my friends and I all made plans for me to visit them, I hope that’s okay, master,” Harry said.

“For you to visit your friends? Of course,” the Dark Lord said. “We are still only at the beginnings of planning, Harry. I will not need you to do anything too strenuous for me. You’ll be involved in the planning when I see fit, obviously, however until then my little snake, I want you to enjoy this summer. It is your reward for your undying and unwavering loyalty.”

“Of course I’m loyal to you Tom, we’re going to be husbands,” Harry smiled. Voldemort just chuckled at that.

“If your feelings still persist, we will see,” Voldemort said. “However, there is something that we both can do tonight. Something that will help me immensely.” He pulled out a wand from his pocket and twirled it around. “Quirrell’s,” he said. “It is suitable; however I really would wish to have my own wand once more.”

“Where is it?” Harry asked.

“I assume it is where I left it when I lost my body ten years ago,” Voldemort said. “The Potter’s cottage.”

“Oh,” Harry said in a small voice. His mind drifted back to his parents. “You want me to help?”

“Yes, however you must leave your wand here,” Voldemort nodded. “We do not want the Trace to interrupt our job.”

“What’s the Trace?” Harry asked.

“An annoyance,” Voldemort muttered. “It is a way for the Ministry to keep track of underaged witches and wizards. The Ministry likes to keep people confused on what exactly it is and how it affects minors. However, through experimentation, I have figured out that it is based on your wand. The spell is placed on the wand when made, and it does not go into effect until it chooses its wizard. Afterward, it wears off on the owner’s seventeenth birthday.”

“So, the Trace is on my wand right now?” Harry asked. He pulled out his ebony wand and stared at it, frowning. “I don’t want it! It sounds like an invasion of privacy!”

“It most definitely it,” Voldemort agreed. “However it is how the magical community choose to monitor its minors. Of course, none of this is ever explained when purchasing or during your studies. So you will keep your wand here, and we shall have to walk out of its range before leaving.”

“Okay, then I’ll keep it in my room,” Harry nodded. “What is the Trace’s range?”

“Approximately one household is what we have found, how exactly that is measured I cannot tell, so we just need to walk down the street,” Voldemort said.

“Alright,” Harry nodded. He ran up to his room and put this wand in his nightstand drawer and came downstairs. He brought Salazar out of his compartment and set up his heating rock in the living room. Voldemort was back in Uncle Vernon’s chair and Harry took the couch across from it. The snake stared up at Voldemort and immediately slithered towards him. “This is the master you are talking about?” he asked.

“I am,” Voldemort replied. Salazar huffed and turned to climb up Harry’s leg until he was coiled on his lap.

“He looks better but too young,” the snake commented.

“Salazar! Be nice, he’s your master too,” Harry said.

“He is right, I appear too young to even think on calling my followers, however, we have the summer to come with a solution for that, my little snake,” Voldemort said. “For now, let us just relax, and tonight we shall get my wand.”

The day passed surprisingly face. Harry found it easy to be with his Master. They would talk about anything, Voldemort listening intensely to Harry’s interest, and comment here and there. When they were not talking, Voldemort was reading, and Harry found himself reading as well, usually one of the books on Dark Magic’s culture that he still needed to finish.

Harry wanted to make dinner for himself and Voldemort that night, and they moved to the kitchen to do so. He made a simple chicken and rice with broccoli, and he blushed deeply when Voldemort complimented him.

They waited until the sun was fully set and the moon was high in the air to leave for Voldemort’s wand. The two walked down the street until they were significantly away from the Dursley’s home, then Voldemort took Harry’s arm in his. “Hold on tightly, Harry,” Voldemort commanded and when he felt Harry tighten his grip, they disappeared.

It was an awful sensation as though iron bands strapped across Harry’s body and he was being pushed through a tiny tube. It lasted for barely a second, but it was enough for Harry to almost lose his stomach when they landed. “It is always rough the first time,” Voldemort chuckled. “I remember the first time Adrian apparated, he threw up on the Great Hall’s floor. I had him brush his teeth for twenty minutes before even thinking of kissing me again.”

“Gross,” Harry commented, he caught his breath and looked up at Voldemort. “We teleported?”

“It is called Apparation, and yes, we did. Have a look for yourself,” he pointed ahead of them. Harry looked around. They were definitely not in Surrey anymore. Instead, they were on a short road with dark houses. In front of them was a cottage that was still mostly standing. The right side of the top floor had been completely blown apart and grew around the rest of the home. The grass was ankle-high as they stepped towards it, and Harry saw that the hedges around the property which once was orderly, Harry assumed, was now growing wildly. “Is this all because of what happened?” he asked.

“It was a strong reaction, yes,” Voldemort mused. “I must admit, this is the first time seeing the damage myself. Come along my little snake, we have one more stop after finding my wand.” He led the way down the small path to the front door. Harry followed hesitantly. He felt his heart thump hard in his chest and he held a hand to it. Voldemort opened the door for Harry, and they stepped into a living room that looked eerily normal. There were years of dust over the tables and couches, and Harry could see that the dust over the fireplace was almost three inches thick however it still looked too clean, too normal, to have a tragedy occur here only ten years ago. He lingered for a moment. Harry found that his legs refused to move as he just looked around.

Voldemort, however, kept walking through the house towards a set of stairs. “Harry.” His voice snapped Harry out of his daze.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Come, I believe my wand might be in the nursery,” Voldemort said. Harry just nodded and went towards the stairs, following his master up to the second floor. His heart continued to feel heavy and for a second he hoped that they wouldn’t go towards the destroyed part of the house, however, Voldemort did not linger at the top of the staircase and turned immediately towards the right. The summertime breeze warmed the house slightly and Harry saw a wall cracked with its door knocked down, ivy growing all over. “This is where our lives became connected,” Voldemort whispered as they stepped into the destroyed nursery.

It was in complete ruins. Only hints of what the room has remained. Harry’s heart felt like it wanted to tear out and he inhaled deeply. There was a cradle completely in shatters, its wood long burnt and decayed. There were still shards of glass from windows and toys scattered around, some covered by ivy and moss and others staying strangely preserved. Harry swallowed heavily. “This is where…” he whispered.

“Indeed,” Voldemort hummed. He took a couple of steps and faced towards the open side of the house. “I remember I was standing here. The crib was facing me and standing between me and you was your mother. I’ve tried to let her stand aside, three times I’ve given her the option, but she stood her ground. Neither your mother nor father had their wands on them. Why I cannot tell, but after I’ve murdered them, I’ve stepped towards your crib…” Voldemort took a couple of steps and stared down at the empty space in front of him. “You were awake. Standing and awake, and you just stared at me. So much innocence in your eyes, my little snake. I’ve raised my wand, cast the killing curse… and then I knew and felt nothing.”

Harry remained silent. His heart continued to beat at twice its normal speed and his stomach started to churn. He looked at Tom, and for reasons, he didn’t really know he started to cry. Voldemort did not notice any of this, instead, he knelt down and started to search around the debris and ivy. He searched for two or three minutes before standing again and turning to Harry, a long wand made of yew twirling in his fingertips. “Feels like coming home,” he smirked. “Come along Harry, one final stop.”

He pocketed his wand and took Harry’s hand. The Dark Lord pulled Harry away from the destroyed nursery and they left the cottage. Harry felt wrong leaving it, he felt that he should clean it up. Put something back together, at least. But they didn’t. They left the cottage just as they found it, and Tom pulled him off of the property. Tom did not speak nor tell Harry about where they were going. They walked away from the cottage towards the town square and crossed it towards the church in the distance. There was a pathway to the side of the church leading to an iron gate. Pass the gate was a cemetery. Tom silently brought Harry there, and they walked the rows, glancing at the names until they both stopped at a tombstone.

In Loving Memory of
James Potter & Lily Potter
Born                             Born
27^th March 1960           30^th January 1960

Died                             Died
31^st October 1981         31^st October 1981

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

“We cannot call the dead to speak to us if it is not Samhain normally,” Voldemort said, “but you can always visit their graves.”

Harry felt his eyes water again. He looked up at Tom, “Why are we here?” he whispered.

“To pay respects, and for closure. For you or them, I cannot say,” Voldemort said. “I will be at the gate when you are done.” He turned and walked away. Harry sniffled and turned back to the grave.

He did not know what to say at first. He still remembered quite vividly when he wanted to talk to them during Samhain. Their looks of disappointment and their deadly silence. He fell to his knees and bit his bottom lip. “I really don’t know what to say,” he said to the grave. “I know that you are disappointed in me. I know that I am not what you thought I would turn out to be. A Slytherin. A murderer. In love with the Dark Lord who killed you.” He sighed and shook his head. “I always wanted to know what you two looked like. Growing up, Aunt Petunia never told me anything about you, mum. And Uncle Vernon only said the nastiest things about you dad. Living with the Dursleys… it was a nightmare. A total nightmare. I was beaten, chased, stuffed into a cupboard—but you already knew all that, huh?

“I know what I did with Piers. I know now what he did to me. If anything, I’m sorry about the way he died. If it were easier, if I could have, I would have made it quicker. But it scared me, guys. Okay? It scared me. I couldn’t—I couldn’t sleep afterwards for so long, and the screaming—every time I closed my eyes all I could see, all I could hear was Piers dying and those black snakes coming out from the ground! I was eight! I was way too young—I am still way too young to even think about doing half of what I’ve done. Half of what I’ve seen. I’ve killed. I’ve lied. I’ve burned a muggle’s face, but do you know what? I don’t regret any of it—not a one. I’m way too young to even have these thoughts, to even think about ways to kill as an option. But here we are. If needed to, I think I can kill again. And that scares me. It scares me so much and I need you guys, mum, dad. I needed you so much and when I finally got to see you—when I finally got to see what you two look like—” Harry cut himself off as fat tears ran down his face. He clutched his heart and bent inward as he cried. “I wanted your love. I wanted to see your smile—hear your voice just so I have that memory. I know I’m far from the son you wanted, but I am your son. All I ask, all I want, is a relationship.” Harry paused. He forced himself to calm down and wiped his tears away before standing up. “Mum, Dad. I’m a Dark Wizard. I’m celebrating the history and traditions that we’ve forgotten and I’m proud of it. Next Samhain, I’m going to call you two again. Even if you hate me, even if you will never love me, please answer my call? Speak to me, please. Just so I know your voices. You’re my parents… I deserve at least that.” He was finished. He didn’t felt like he had anything else to say at that moment. Harry took a step back and sighed, “I love you two,” he said to the grave and turned to walk away.

As he approached the gate, he saw Tom knelt over a tombstone, examining it. He looked over his shoulder and read the name. Peverell. “Who is Peverell?” Harry asked.

“A long-dead family,” Tom said as he stood up, his hand moving from his pocket. “The Dumbledores are buried here as well.” He turned to Harry and hugged him. “Did you say your piece?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, you know I would do anything for you, my little snake,” Tom promised. He pressed his lips to Harry’s forehead and hugged him once more. Together, they walked out of the graveyard and down the sleepy road towards the Potter cottage to have one last look. Then, holding each other tightly, they disappeared.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19

The Trace

Harry thought about their visit to the graveyard for a full week. He still felt strange whenever he thought about his parents. He wanted them to be proud of him, to be happy that he was living his life to the fullest in any way the soon-to-be twelve-year-old can, but he also didn’t want to lie to himself or them.

Voldemort had him reading books for lessons now because it was too dangerous for him to perform magic with the trace still on him. “If I am remembering correctly, there is a way to prematurely get it off,” Voldemort said. “One way is to claim your lordship at fifteen, however, I will not wait three years to finally begin teaching you. The other requires a small Dark Ritual that can be performed at any time. However, I will need to look further into that to fully remember. In the meantime, Harry, there is something else far more pressing we need to discuss.”

“What is it?” Harry asked. They were in the living room, Voldemort once again in Uncle Vernon’s chair as Harry sat comfortably on the couch. Voldemort stood up and stared down at Harry, “Would you follow me?” he asked.

“Yes,” Harry said immediately.

“Why?”

“Because you’re my master,” Harry said simply. “You’ve looked after me, trusted me, and protected me.”

“And now? Based on my appearance, would you still follow me?” Voldemort asked.

“Of course, Tom,” Harry nodded.

“And that lies the problem,” Voldemort said, frowning slightly. “I’ve regained my youth. In essence, I’ve once again become Tom Riddle, instead of being reborn as only Lord Voldemort. I am not complaining, far from it, I rather like having my youth back, and having your eyes on me. That said, my appearance will not sway my followers to my side once more. I fear they will see my youthful image and see it as… lacking.”

“I don’t get it,” Harry frowned, “what do you mean by lacking?”

“I appear too young, to normal,” Voldemort said. “During the first war, I’ve looked different. Drastically so. I’ve experimented with Dark Magic that nobody has done, I’ve made multiple Horcruxes, Harry, and with each one I’ve made, I’ve slowly lost my humanity both in looks and feelings. Would you believe, for a moment, that I’ve had red eyes?”

“No,” Harry breathed.

“It is true, and I was skeletal with pale white skin and my face was reptilian, like a snake’s,” Voldemort nodded. He smirked, “I even had pointed teeth,” He gave Harry a brief smile to show off his perfectly white human teeth. “The point, Harry, is that I look drastically different, and because of that, none of my followers would follow me because of this.”

“So, you need a way to look like your old self again?” Harry asked. He frowned and shook his head, “I’m sorry Master but I like how you look now, personally.”

“I must admit I do as well, however, it is because of that we must construct a glamour for myself, so I can appear as my old self. As well as construct a disguise for you,” Voldemort said.

“Me? Why do I need a disguise?” Harry asked.

“You expect to go into our meetings with my Death Eaters in a simple hood? By the Dark Harry, I would rather you turn to the light instead of embarrassing yourself like that,” Voldemort said. “Half of the influence is theatrics, my little snake. They will expect you to look a certain way, and so we must perform.”

“Ohh,” Harry said. In his mind, he thought about him and Tom on a stage in dark robes and costumes, he didn’t really like the idea. “Are you going to tell them that I’m me?” he asked.

“Of course,” Voldemort said. “It should be no secret that you are my little snake, Harry. However, what is important is the timing of such an announcement. But that isn’t until years from now. We are still in the primary stages.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry nodded. “So when you have your meetings with your followers, you’re going to look… snakey?”

“If it helps you to understand it that way, yes,” Voldemort nodded.

Harry looked at Tom nervously, “Do I have to look snakey?”

“No, you do not,” Tom chuckled. He stood up from his chair and moved to sit next to Harry. He patted Harry’s hair and Harry leaned towards the touch. “I would never ask you to disfigure your body like that. No, we simply need to hide your face. A special mask will do simply enough for that, however, what type of mask will need to be determined. I want my followers to know that you are superior to all of them, little snake.”

“I would like that,” Harry grinned. The thought of wearing a mask to hide his identity was cool to him! It reminded Harry of when he was young and used that batman mask to hide his face when he burned that muggle.

“Good, however before any of that, we need to get rid of that pesky Trace so I can train you, as well as enroll me to school,” Voldemort smirked.

“You’re coming back to Hogwarts?” Harry asked, grinning. His head was immediately filled with images of him and his Master relaxing in the Slytherin common room.

“No, I am not,” Voldemort said, and just like that Harry’s dream was shattered. “Dumbledore would recognize me immediately. No, I shall be attending Durmstrang, another Wizarding school somewhere in the far north of Europe.”

Harry’s heart fell, “That is so far away,” he said mournfully. “No! I won’t let you!”

“Harry,” Voldemort said in a warning voice. But Harry didn’t care. He grabbed onto the teen and held him tightly.

“I don’t want you going anywhere anymore! I can’t stand it! You’re supposed to be here—with me Tom! Please don’t leave me. It hurts me when you leave me,” Harry muttered.

Tom sighed. He shook his head and muttered, “I should punish you for thinking I would ever leave you.” He took Harry and moved him until he was on his lap. Harry just held on tighter, and Tom wrapped his arms around Harry. “It will not be forever, and there are books in Durmstrang that I require, at least until I can get my old collection again. I will only be there for this year and the next. Two years Harry, two years where nothing will happen, but that does not mean that I will be leaving you.”

“But you’re going far away,” Harry muttered. “I can only talk with you through letters.” Tom smiled as he petted his hair.

“You are obsessed with me,” he chuckled.

“I love you.”

“Maybe you do, but I won’t accept it until you’re older and know fully what you’re saying,” Tom sighed.

Harry didn’t like that at all. He knew that when he was older than he would still love his lord, so he did something before Voldemort could react. Sitting on his lap, Harry looked up and stole a kiss on Voldemort’s cheek. “There won’t be anyone else, only you,” he said.

Voldemort shook his head. “Fine then, ask again next year, if you are so insistent. But I have to admit, there would be no one else I would try again, then with you my little snake.”

Harry smiled at that and he hugged Tom. “Does this mean you’ll stay?” he asked.

“No, but just know that I might be kissing somewhere else when you’re older,” Tom chuckled, and he pressed a finger to Harry’s lips.

“Okay, I think I can live with that,” Harry said.

“Good boy,” Voldemort smirked. “Now, if we have this silliness out of the way,” he kissed Harry’s forehead and kept him on his lap, “why don’t we relax? I will head into Knockturn Alley to see if I cannot find a tome that will help us remove the Trace. I would normally bring you along, however, the man I have in mind hates children.”

“I’m not a child,” Harry said.

“Of course not, little snake,” Voldemort said with an amused smirk. Harry huffed but said nothing. Instead, he got off for a moment just to take one of the books Blaise got him for Yule and returned to sit on Tom’s lap as the other continued with his book.

The next day, Harry woke up with a letter from Draco waiting for him. He and Blaise were to have a playdate and the young Malfoy heir demanded… wanted Harry to be with them. He showed it to Voldemort. “Good, this will actually free me up a bit,” Voldemort said. “There is a fair bit that I need to buy, and I would rather not leave you alone with the muggles.”

“How am I going to get there?” Harry asked.

Voldemort stood up and walked to the fireplace where on the mantel there was a very small silver tin. “We need to restock this, especially if you are going to have multiple playdates with your friends,” he said. “This, Harry, is Floo Powder. You use it to travel through fireplaces. Simply take a handful, throw it into the fire and yell out your destination. In this case, Malfoy Manor. It is much more convenient than having us walk down the road to be out of the trace’s zone on your wand.”

“Does this mean I can bring my wand?” Harry asked.

“Of course. Go get it.”

Harry grinned and jumped to run to his room and grab his wand from his nightstand. He returned to the living room smiling brightly as he held up his ebony wand. “Wait, should I send a return letter?”

“You are the Dark Lord’s Apprentice, you have no need for that,” Voldemort scoffed. “Do you think I send a letter every time I wish to use a follower’s home?”

“No, but it would be rude. And I never met Draco’s parents before,” Harry frowned. “I don’t want their first impression to be me being rude. So I’m going to write him a letter then leave after breakfast.”

“If that is your wish,” Voldemort said. Harry immediately went to write the letter as Aunt Petunia cooked breakfast. After the two ate and dressed, Harry stood in front of the fireplace. The grate was removed, and Harry stepped into it. “When should I be home?” he asked innocently.

“Whenever you are tired of your friends,” Voldemort said. “I most likely shall not be back until after six, however, you will have dinner with me.”

“Okay, then I’ll tell them that,” Harry smiled. He stepped out of the fireplace just to kiss Voldemort’s cheek, his own blushing. “Bye Tom!” he grinned and went back into the fireplace and threw the floo powder down, “Malfoy Manor!”

Voldemort watched his little snake leave and shook his head, “Cheeky brat,” he muttered. The Dark Lord shook his head and went to his new room, which was the Master Room. The muggles all slept in the living room when Harry and Voldemort were there. He took a black robe and put it on, making sure that the hood covered his face completely. He waved his wand in front of it, muttering a Notice-me-not charm, and disappeared. He thought that surely after Harry started Hogwarts, Dumbledore would have at least placed some measures of protection around the Dursleys’ home, but all he found was a charm stating that as long as Harry thought the place was home, it would be safe from Voldemort. It was such a shame, in Voldemort’s opinion, that the old man did not think that Harry would ever consider the Dark Lord as ‘home.’

He appeared at the mouth of Knockturn Alley and descended the steps into the shadowed alleyway. There were barely any other witch or wizard in the alley that morning, which was perfect for Voldemort. He did not want any chance of running into someone. The store he needed was a small one called Deadly Tomes. It was deep in the alleyway, so he made his way with haste, not even slowing to glance into the windows. It has been years since he was in Knockturn Alley, but he knew that nothing changed. Voldemort found the store and walked inside.

It was small, cramped with bookshelves, with some of the more popular dark magic books on display. There was another store right next to it that was bigger with more books, but Deadly Tomes was more specialized towards the rituals and spells that some Dark Wizards were scared to even think of. Voldemort was surprised to see that there was another person in the store as he walked in.

The person was wearing a light red robe with its hood over their head. “Thank you very much,” he thanked in a light male’s voice and turned to leave. Voldemort stepped out of the side politely. After the person left, Voldemort immediately began browsing the books. “I require the ritual to remove the trace,” he said idly. “That is in Rare Dark Rituals, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” the shopkeeper said. Voldemort just hummed and walked around the shop slowly, finding the book as well as a couple more useful tomes. He paid for the books and left. Voldemort hesitated outside of the shop for a moment before deciding to go to the bookstore next door to find a birthday gift for Harry. Once again he saw the wizard in the light red robes but paid him no mind as he looked around. He found a couple of books that looked interesting and easy enough for a twelve-year-old to perform, as well as some small rituals that would amuse his little snake.

“Shopping for a little sibling?” a soft voice asked. Voldemort looked up to see the red-robed wizard near him.

“I’m sorry?”

“I should apologize, I cannot help but notice the books you’re looking at. They’re all for younger dark wizards, especially those who are just about to begin their journey,” the wizard said. “Sorry, I’ve just been elected as the Voice of the Dark. I cannot help but be a bit excited and nervous about it.”

“Congratulations then, that is a huge honor,” Voldemort nodded, wanting to keep this short. “You will then be overlooking my … sibling’s Ritual of Announcement next year then?”

“I will indeed,” the young man smiled. “Will I be seeing you this year?”

“No, I celebrate in northern Europe with the rest of my Durmstrang students,” Voldemort said. “Now, if you excuse me, I need to get back home.” He went and purchased the books and gave the man a final goodbye before leaving. He knew that it was a long time until his little snake’s birthday, but he thought that he would rather get it now than risk leaving later.

It was barely eleven by the time Voldemort returned to 4 Privet Drive, and he settled in the kitchen with Rare Dark Rituals opened in front of him. “Muggle woman. A glass of water. Muggle man, give me paper and a quill,” he ordered. The muggles moved and a moment later, he had a glass of water as well as paper and a pen in front of him. He opened the book and skimmed through it until he found the section on the trace.

An utter annoyance and product of the Light and Muggleborns that was created to keep track over budding Dark Wizards and either punish them or force a conversion, the Trace has thankfully lost its power over the years and now only detects when magic has been done around a minor. That said, the Trace is still a tool that has been used against Dark Wizards, and thus wizards have worked together to create this ritual which will remove the Trace.

This ritual is usually the first ritual a witch or wizard would ever do and is rare as it does not require one of the Eight Holidays to perform. A standard ritual circle will do, with only the minor and the rituals’ caster. It requires blood from both the minor as well as the caster to be mixed together and dripped slowly onto the minor’s wand. With the wand coat with blood, the minor must then chant the following:

“We stand as a circle never-ending and eternal. We stand here with magic, never-ending and eternal. With our blood, we cleanse this wand. We cleanse the magic imbued in the wood; we cleanse the magic imbued in the core. Remove the Trace, the bind that is forced upon me, and let me celebrate my magic and the Dark forevermore! Per Tenebris ego imperium.”

The wand will then absorb the blood and glow a dark purple before, from the tip, the blood and the Trace will leak out. Separate the wand and spillage and then give thanks to the Dark and close the circle.

“Ahh yes, I remember doing this with Adrian,” Voldemort chuckled to himself, smiling at the memory. He wondered if he should tell Harry the story of his first dark ritual and decided against it. He wanted this memory to be only about them.

It was a really simple ritual and would be a proper way to begin Harry’s lessons. While the boy was at the Malfoy’s, Voldemort decided to prepare for the ritual. They would do it as soon as Harry comes home and celebrate with a special dinner. I really must be becoming sentimental in my age, Voldemort chuckled to himself. Fifteen is a very sentimental age. He took out his wand and drew a ritual circle on the kitchen table. Normally it would be much more meaningful than this, some families have an entire room dedicated to their rituals, but until Voldemort can find a more suitable place for him and his little snake (for he will not even suffer the muggles for one more year), this will have to do.

The ritual circle was simple, with a heptagram inside the circle with a different rune at each point. I must teach Harry this before he leaves for Hogwarts, Voldemort thought as he carved the runes. When he was done, he traced the circle once more and muttered “Per Tenebris ego imperium.”

His task done, Voldemort then went to Harry’s trunk and smiled when he found a silver knife. Silver was used in most rituals; however, Voldemort will not admit to anyone that he forgets the reason why. He saw the muggle woman staring at him with the sharp knife and smirked. “Afraid? Don’t be. You and your blood would only sully this knife. No, this is simply for a ritual, and a ritual that, once done, will allow Harry and I to have some fun.” He returned to the kitchen table and set the knife just outside the ritual circle before checking the time. It was barely the afternoon.

Delighted that his work was done, the Dark Lord decided that he should relax. He went to the radio, found a station that played soft jazz that he liked, and settled into his armchair to read some of his new purchases. Salazar came around at one point and wrapped around Voldemort’s shoulder, the Dark Lord idly petting him as he continued to read.

Harry came back before dinner, smiling widely. “It was amazing! Draco’s house was awesome,” he gushed. “And it was so much fun doing magic with Draco and Blaise! They taught me a new spell, but I can’t show you.”

“You will soon enough,” Tom chuckled. “Come here little snake, a gift before dinner.” He placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder and started to direct him towards the kitchen. “Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?”

“You mean about the Trace?” Harry asked.

“Exactly,” Tom nodded. “I’ve prepared everything we need in order to get rid of it.” He swept an arm towards the table, “take out your wand, Harry, and place it directly in the center.”

“What is this?” Harry asked, “This looks different than the one Theo drew on Samhain.”

“A basic ritual circle, you will need to learn how to make one soon enough,” Tom said. “A circle with a seven-pointed star, each with a specific rune inside. I will teach you about each specific rune on another day. You will learn about them in time through your own journey into the Dark Arts, however, it would be nice to prepare you ahead of time.”

Harry just nodded along and placed his wand in the center. He eyed the knife hesitantly and looked up at Tom. His Master just smirked at Harry reassuringly and sat down, motioning for Harry to do the same. Tom pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it to Harry, “You will recite this when I tell you to. You should already be familiar with the beginning and end.” Harry opened the piece of paper and nodded after reading it. “Good. Now, with each ritual, you open yourself up to Dark Magic Harry. It is eternal, everlasting, with no beginning nor end. Like a circle, really. We respect it; however, we also command it, thus giving us the ending of our ritual. That said, because we respect Dark Magic, we must end the rituals with thanks. That is my job.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded. “Do we have to hold hands?”

“For this one? No,” Tom said. “The Dark Magic will hear us clear enough. He pressed a finger to the ritual circle and said, “We open this circle, may it represent Magic and all of its power, everlasting and eternal.” The circle began to glow, the ruins shining against the table. “I give to you my Apprentice, Harry Potter, may he treat you with respect and may he wield your power with honor. For our price, we pay in blood, so our duties are done.” He took the knife and looked up at Harry. “We will bleed on top of your wand. Not too much now.” He took the knife and sliced a small cut in his palm. He held his hand over the wand and squeezed so his blood oozed onto it. Tom looked up at Harry and held up the knife. Harry swallowed but presented his hand.

The boy winced at the pain of the small cut and he did as Tom instructed. He held his hand over his own wand and made a fist, watching with fascination as his own blood dripped onto his wand, mixing with Voldemort’s. “Good boy,” Tom praised, and he placed the knife down, “Now, your words.”

Harry nodded and cleared his throat. He stared at his wand as he said the ritual’s incantation. “We stand as a circle never-ending and eternal. We stand here with magic, never-ending and eternal. With our blood, we cleanse this wand. We cleanse the magic imbued in the wood; we cleanse the magic imbued in the core. Remove the Trace, the bind that is forced upon me, and let me celebrate my magic and the Dark forevermore! Per Tenebris ego imperium.”

The ritual circle and runes began to glow brighter, and Harry gasped as he watched the wand absorb the blood until it was perfectly clean! He looked up at Tom, only for the teen to be smirking at him. “Watch,” he said, pointing at Harry’s wand. Harry watched and gasped.

A dark purple glow surrounded his wand, and from the tip, a shiny silver liquid leaked and sputtered. “Our blood purifying the Trace from your wand,” Voldemort whispered. Harry just nodded, too enchanted by watching his wand continue to milk out the liquid until there was a large puddle that spread out to the nearby edges of the ritual circle but never passes it. Voldemort took Harry’s wand gently and moved it away from the puddle. “By the Dark we thank and by the Dark, we draw our power. With our duties done and our goal achieved, we praise and thank you, Dark Magic, endless and eternal, and so we close our circle.” He pressed his finger to the ritual circle once more and the glowing stopped.

“Normally opening and closing the circle will be much more formal, however for small rituals like this, and individual rituals, Dark Magic does not mind if you are to the point,” Voldemort said. “Now watch,” he drew his own wand and tapped the table. The ritual circle and silver liquid both disappeared.

Harry gasped and waited for a moment, thinking that maybe some loud alarm or magical bells might ring off, but nothing happened. There was no sudden influx of wizards—no angry letters or even Dumbledore appearing to yell at him. “Master!” Harry said, grinning happily.

Tom chuckled at Harry’s enthusiasm. “Lift the knife,” Voldemort commanded.

Harry nodded and flourished his wand. “Wingardium Leviosa!” The knife immediately was lifted into the air and hovered. Harry moved his wand and the knife followed until it was back at the knife block then grabbed it so he could slide it back in.

“Good show Harry,” Tom praised, and he kissed Harry’s scar. “Now, a special dinner to celebrate, and tomorrow your lessons can formally begin!”

“Thank you, Master,” Harry smiled, “Thank you so much—I can’t wait to learn! Oh! Now I can show you what Blaise and Draco taught me!”

“Yes, you can show me after dinner,” Tom smiled. He brought Harry back to the living room where they relaxed as Aunt Petunia and Dudley started cooking for them. “You know, as much as I like having your muggle relatives do things for us, Harry, I must say that I would rather we have a place just for us.”

“Really?” Harry asked.

“Of course,” Tom nodded. “However, we will still stay here for the summer. I would like to plan out a few more details before we move.”

“Okay,” Harry grinned. “Oh, Tom?”

“Yes, my little snake?” Tom asked.

Harry kissed his cheek and grinned, “Thank you again for getting rid of the Trace.” Tom just chuckled and smiled ruefully. Perhaps he could see himself falling for this pretty boy, but they will see once Harry is a little older.

Chapter Text

Chapter 20

Magical Me

Harry’s first lesson with Voldemort was a week after they have gotten rid of the Trace. The Dark Lord refused to teach Harry anything new until the boy got his summer assignments done, and that was all the motivation the boy needed. The two were outside, and Harry was going to learn his first real experience in Blood Magic.

There was a table set outside, upon which was a knife and a black tome with yellowed paper. Voldemort had Harry sit down as he stood in front of the young boy. “Now Harry, have you read about Blood Magic before?”

“No, Tom,” Harry shook his head, he thought that Tom would be disappointed by his master just hummed.

“As expected. Even in the Dark Arts, true blood magic is a dying breed,” Voldemort said. “There are rituals that require blood, yes, but true Blood Magic is something that only an extremely powerful wizard can do, and even then you must have the stomach for it. For every time, you must sacrifice your fresh blood.”

“Is that why the knife is here?” Harry asked.

“Right you are, Harry,” Voldemort nodded. “I will admit that I’ve only performed Blood Magic only a handful of times. The first was when I was in Hogwarts with Adrian. We were sixteen, and we’ve done a blood ritual to… enhance our stamina.” He chuckled and Harry looked at him confused.

“Did you have to do a lot of running for some reason?” he asked.

“It was something like that,” Voldemort smirked. “That was a ritual to make yourself more powerful if only for temporarily. You could also use Blood Magic to speak to Dark Magic directly, asking only for the most intense of requests, such as if a couple is having trouble conceiving. It is said that children conceived from this ritual have an intense sensitivity to the Dark Arts. But for your purposes, all you will need to know is the rudimentary basics.” He picked up the knife from the table and looked at Harry, “On your journey, you will encounter rituals that require blood. These are normally the only Blood Magic the normal Dark Wizard would ever do.”

Voldemort pricked his finger and exposed it to Harry so that the boy can watch it bleed. “We must pay a price for our ultimate desires,” he said. He flicked his finger and let the blood fall on the table. “It always must be our blood, our sacrifice. I am warning you because of it, Blood Magic is something not to be trifled with. If anyone wants your blood, do not give it to them. Understand? I’m teaching you about Blood Magic so you can be prepared.”

“I understand, Master,” Harry nodded.

“Good,” Voldemort smirked. “Then let’s continue our lessons.” He moved on to other subjects and the two spent the rest of the morning learning spells that Tom deemed appropriate to Harry’s age before moving to Potions for the afternoon.

Harry quickly fell into a groove for the summer. Most of the time he would take lessons from Tom where his reward was praise and hugs, with kisses on his forehead if he did something particularly brilliant. If he wasn’t with Tom, he was with his friends at their houses. Pansy would fuss over Harry’s hair as Daphne laughed before the two girls would force the boy to be their mannequin for different clothes. Theo normally hung around with them at either Draco’s or Blaise’s home, however sometimes Harry went to Theo’s home and the two spent a peaceful, quiet afternoon, the two comfortable with each other. When he wasn’t with them, Harry was writing letters to them. The young Slytherin wrote constantly to his friends, especially Fred and George.

He learned that they and Ron got in trouble for playing with their dad’s car. Apparently, Mr. Weasley had an old Ford Angelia that he was tinkering with, much to Mrs. Weasley’s annoyance. Harry really wished he could visit them; however, he didn’t know how much he could stomach being around Ron. So they just stuck to letters.

Before Harry knew it, his birthday was here! He was twelve years old! Tom wished him a Happy Birthday and made him sit down as he had Aunt Petunia cook breakfast for him. The mail arrived with a copy of the Daily Prophet for Tom and presents for Harry. “Do not open any of them,” Tom ordered.

“What? But Tom!”

“Not until you open mine, of course,” Tom said. He stood and excused himself for a moment before coming back with a perfectly wrapped present. “Happy Birthday, my little snake,” Tom said, kissing Harry’s cheek as he gave Harry his gift.

Harry unwrapped it carefully and gasped. Tom gave him new books on the Dark Arts and their culture! There were also some age-appropriate books that looked fun to read, including a book titled Dark Potions to Prank your Friends! Harry hugged Tom for the presents and smiled brilliantly, “Thank you,” he whispered.

Tom just grunted and nodded, “You should also know that I’ve been accepted into Durmstrang,” he said. “Our term starts on the same day as Hogwarts.”

“Ohh,” Harry said, he didn’t want to think about leaving Tom. Tom saw the soft disappointed face on Harry and sighed, caressing his neck, “It will not be forever my little snake,” he said, “and I will naturally find some way for us to see each other during the school year, our two months during the summer and the holiday breaks will not even be close to enough.”

“I would like that,” Harry whispered.

Tom chuckled and petted Harry’s hair. “I know you would, my little snake,” he said. “But we have a whole month together left, so let’s not think about any unpleasantness today.”

“Okay Master,” Harry nodded. “Can I open my presents now?”

“Of course,” Tom chuckled, and Harry’s smile returned as he turned his focus on the presents. Blaise, Draco, and Theo gave him clothes and Pansy gave him more hair products while Daphne and Theo gave him books they thought he would like. Crabbe’s gift was interesting, a pattern that he knitted that looked like a really malformed golden Snitch, still Harry found himself loving it. Goyle, surprising Harry even more than Crabbe’s gift, apparently made him cupcakes! They were alright and Harry made sure to write thank-you notes to everyone. Even the twins, who gave him joke products.

Harry spent the day going over his new clothes, liking one set of green robes in particular. Salazar watched him as he tried on clothes and just hissed at him with each new article of clothing. “I don’t get you humans, so many clothes and for what? You should be like us snakes: naked.”

“If we’re naked, we get in trouble,” Harry said simply.

“You are all too weird. Do you have no pride in your bodies? Look at mine! Look at how shiny my scales are! How venomous my poison is!” Salazar said, puffing himself up.

Harry laughed as he tried on a particularly pink shirt that Blaise gave him. “And you’re very handsome, Salazar,” he smiled. He looked in the mirror and hummed, “I look good in pink, what do you think?”

“Your flesh is sometimes pink,” Salazar said.

“You’re useless,” Harry said but smiled. “I think I’ll wear this when I have to go to Diagon Alley for Hogwarts’ books.”

Salazar just hissed grumpily and slithered away. Harry smiled and looked in the mirror once more, putting on a light black robe and kept it open. Yes, he decided, I look very nice in pink.

His Hogwarts letter came three days after his birthday, as well as Tom’s letter from Durmstrang. They both sat down and opened their letters separately. Harry’s told him to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King’s Cross station on September first. There was also a list of the new books he’d need for the coming year.

SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk
Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart
Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart
Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart
Wandering with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart
Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart

“Who the hell is Gilderoy Lockhart?” Harry asked.

“Language,” Tom muttered, giving Harry a strong glare.

“Sorry, Master,” Harry blushed, “but look at my shopping list!” He gave it to Tom, who read it. His Master started to frown a little and gave the list back.

“I have no idea who this Lockhart is,” he said, “Perhaps your new Defense teacher is a fan, not that they will last long,” he smirked.

“What do you mean by that?” Harry asked curiously.

“Nothing much, I’ve just placed a little spell on the position,” Tom smirked. “The last time I’ve used Blood Magic. The Defense Against the Dark Arts position is jinxed, so that whoever holds it only lasts a single year. Petty, yes, but it was quite satisfying to do.”

“Why would you do that?” Harry asked curiously.

“Because I myself applied for the position—and did not get it,” Tom explained. “Anyway, would you be alright shopping in Diagon Alley with your friends? My supply is having me visit the Bulgarian version of Knockturn Alley.”

“Umm okay,” Harry said, frowning slightly. “But next year then I want you to go shopping with me. Promise.”

“I promise, my little snake,” Tom chuckled, and he kissed his little snake’s forehead. “Go make your plans.”

Harry grinned and left immediately to grab parchment and a quill to write to his friends. He wrote them, and over the next day, Harry, Draco, and Blaise planned to go to Diagon Alley next Wednesday. He told Tom as much who nodded.

“Then we will make next Wednesday our shopping day,” he said. “Until then, you will continue your practice with the Dark Arts.”

When next Wednesday came, Harry couldn’t help but wonder how he would get to Diagon Alley. The last time, he used the muggle Underground, however, Harry felt that it would be improper for him to use it now. And he really did not want to. So, he decided to travel by Floo Powder. Tom left earlier that morning, kissing Harry’s cheek goodbye, and Harry decided to leave as well after an hour of wandering the home.

He traveled to the Leaky Cauldron and ignored everyone as he walked through the pub, holding his head high. He, Blaise, and Draco agreed to meet up by the Apothecary, so he made his way there immediately. Along the way, he saw a small crowd of redheads and groaned at the thought of running into Ron, Hermione, and Neville, the latter too undoubtedly joining the crowd. He didn’t mind talking with the twins, but the other Weasleys, particularly Ron and Percy, Harry did not care for.

Harry found the two already waiting for him, and he wasn’t shocked when Blaise pulled him in for a hug, followed immediately by Draco snatching him for his own to hug. “Hello to you two too,” he smirked. “Did you miss me?”

“Always, I wish my best friend never has to leave,” Blaise said dramatically. “Come on, my mother told me that I can shop by myself!”

“My father is in Knockturn Alley doing business,” Draco said, pouting. “He brought me with him but then he made me come here before he went to look at darker stuff.”

“Well, we are only twelve I guess,” Blaise shrugged, “but come on, I saw that Flourish and Blotts was crowded for some reason and I want to get my stuff quickly.”

“Really? What’s going on?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know, there was a banner, but I didn’t get to read it,” Blaise shrugged. “Anyway, you need to get your money, right?” Harry nodded and Blaise took his hand, “Well let’s go!” he grinned.

“Hey!” Draco protested, “Don’t hold Harry’s hand that’s not fair!”

Blaise just grinned and winked at Draco, “Then you should have grabbed my hand sooner, come on Harry.”  He pulled Harry along and the three made their way to Gringotts where Harry filled his pouch with Galleons and Sickles. The three went outside and immediately went to the Apothecary to renew their potions stocks. The three took a moment to stop at Quality Quidditch Supplies to just gaze at the newest broom model: the Nimbus 2001. It was a beautiful broom with a black handle and silver bristles. “You know, we’re second years now,” Draco said. “We can try out for the team.”

“Right, we can,” Harry nodded. “So, how about it?”

“I’m good,” Blaise shrugged.

“Then just me and Harry,” Draco smirked. “We’ll try out and beat those Gryffindors to the ground.”

“Yeah!” Harry grinned. “And all the other Houses too!”

The two grinned and Harry looked at the broomstick on display then back at his pouch of gold. “You know, I think I have more than enough to buy three of them, one for each of us,” he said.

Draco’s grin grew and he looked excitedly at the broom. “We should buy them! Right, Blaise?”

“Uh, I’m not trying out—”

“But come on! It’ll be fun and no one else in our school will have them,” Harry grinned. “I mean I have so much money—why shouldn’t I spend it on my friends?”

“Harry’s right, come on Blaise!” Draco said, ribbing the taller Slytherin. Blaise looked between them two and sighed as he shook his head.

“Fine, if you’re really okay with spending so much money on us Harry,” he said. “Just… don’t get in trouble with you-know-who.”

“He’s a softie, we don’t need to worry about him,” Harry grinned. “Come on now!” He ran into the store before either boy could stop them. The store had everything needed and related to Quidditch with broomsticks proudly displayed on the walls, Bludgers locked in iron chests and uniforms with boots and gloves folded neatly on racks. Harry went up to the only employee he could see behind the cash register and smiled, “Hello, how much would it be to buy three Nimbus 2001s?”

The worker laughed, “Are you daft? Way more than you can afford kid,” he said. “They are top-of-the-line brooms, kid, used in National games by the big players.”

“I know, I am still asking,” Harry said, frowning slightly, “are you judging me based on my age? Or is it because you think I am not serious? Because I’m perfectly serious, as well as getting annoyed that you would even think that I wasn’t.” He pulled out his money pouch and started to pour out its contents. “So please, tell me the price and I will pay for it. Unless you would rather I get the three brooms from somewhere else? I heard that there was a wonderfully good broomstick store in Diagon Alley—or maybe I’ll letter the makers themselves.”

“Better yet I’ll have my father, Lucius Malfoy, letter them and see about limiting their supply to this dingy store,” Draco said loftily.

“I—there’s no need for this,” the worker said, his eyes on the money. “I mean I would of course be happy to help you three. You said you wanted three—correct?” Harry nodded. “Pick up or delivery?”

“Delivery, please,” Harry said. “One to Malfoy Manor, one to Zabini Manor, and one to 4 Privet Drive, Surrey.” He looked at his friends and grimaced, “Where we live with my muggle relatives,” he whispered. The worker nodded as he quickly wrote down the addresses on a piece of parchment.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and muttered, “This will be nine hundred galleons in total—”

“Done,” Harry shrugged.

“You’ll uhh need to fill out a bank order,” the worker continued reluctantly, pulling out an official-looking parchment. Harry snatched it and easily fill it out, missing the worker’s eyes bulging when he wrote his name. “Mr. Potter—I’m—of course, I am so sorry, of course,” he stuttered. “The brooms will arrive right away.”

“Thank you,” Harry smiled. He pushed his coins back into his pouch and pocketed it. “Have a good day,” he said, and he took both Draco’s and Blaise’s hands and walked out of the store. He was nine hundred galleons poorer, but he didn’t care because he got himself and his best friends sweet new brooms! And with those brooms, Harry and Draco will join the Quidditch team and dominate everyone!

The boys hugged Harry tightly as soon as they were outside, “I’m never going to hear the end of it from father but thank you,” Draco said.

“You are way too insane, Harry,” Blaise breathed. “Nine hundred galleons! Nine hundred! Harry are you okay?”

“I will be, don’t worry about it,” Harry said. “Come on, let’s go get our books.” He did not let go of either boys’ hand as they made their way to Flourish and Blotts.

The huge crowd was still justling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:

GILDEROY LOCKHART
will be signing copies of his autobiography
MAGICAL ME
today 12:30 to 4:00

“Well, that’s why there’s a crowd,” Blaise hummed. “My mother hates his works.”

“My mother loves them,” Draco said. “By the dark, I hope our new professor isn’t some obsessive fangirl.”

“I still don’t know who he is,” Harry said as he looked around. The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Zabini’s age. A harassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying, “Calmly, please, ladies… Don’t push, there… mind the books, now…”

Harry, Draco, and Blaise squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. They each grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2, and sneaked up the line, spotting Theo with his parents. “Oh, hello,” Theo smiled. “I didn’t realize you came here today too.”

“Yeah, we thought you were still in France, sorry we would have invited you,” Harry said.

“Do not remind me about France,” Theo’s mother muttered. “Good day, boys, now hush—we’ll get to see him at any minute!” She started to pat and fix her long black hair and smooth her robes.

Draco looked to the back of them and groaned, “Of course they’re here.” Harry looked at where Draco was pointing at and saw the Weasleys all gathered together along with Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger and two adults looking ridiculously out of place in muggle clothing. Harry’s eyes met with Fred and George and the three gave a small wave. The line moved and Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; and his hair was blond and wavy, looking as though it wouldn’t move in the fiercest storm.

A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking pictures with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.

“Out of the way,” he snarled at Blaise, moving back to get a better shot. “This is for the Daily Prophet—”

“Who cares,” both Harry and Blaise said.

Lockhart has heard them. He looked up. He saw Blaise—and then he saw Harry. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, “It can’t be Harry Potter!”

Oh no, Harry mentally groaned. By the dark why?

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly. Lockhart dived forward, sieved Harry’s arm, and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst into applause. Harry’s face burned as Lockhart shook his hand for the photographer, who was clicking away madly, wafting thick smoke everywhere.

“Nice big smile, Harry,” Lockhart said. “Together, you and I are worth the front page.”

When he finally let go of Harry’s hand, Harry could hardly feel his fingers. He tried to sidle back over to his friends, but Lockhart threw an arm around his shoulders and clamped him rightly to his side.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said loudly, waving for quiet. “What an extraordinary moment this is! When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today to purchase my autobiography Magical Me, which incidentally is currently celebrating its twenty-seventh week on top of the Daily Prophet’s best seller’s list. He had no idea that he would be leaving with my entire collective works,” Lockhart shoved a large stack of books into Harry’s hands, “free of charge.” He smiled and the crowd applauded. “As well, ladies and gentlemen, I have the great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

The crowd cheered and clapped and Harry was finally able to get away from Lockhart, still carrying the entire collection of his work, staggering lightly under its weight. He made it to the edge of the room, where he found a small girl with familiar red hair standing with a second-hand cauldron. “You’re Ginny, right? Ginny Weasley?” He said.

She gasped and looked up at Harry. “Fred and George told me about here,” he said. He looked at her for a moment and then down at her cauldron which was filled with entirely second-hand stuff. He tipped the books into her cauldron, “Here, you can have these,” he muttered. “I’ll buy my own.”

“What are you doing with my sister?” Ron Weasley’s voice called out. Harry looked up to see him coming towards him, Hermione and Neville following after. Before he could answer, another voice called out.

“Bet you loved that, didn’t you Potter?” Draco Malfoy was coming towards them. “Famous Harry Potter. Can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page.”

“Leave him alone, he didn’t want all that!” Ginny Weasley said, surprising Harry and Draco.

Draco looked between the two, “Got yourself a girlfriend, Harry? What would your mentor think?”

“That she hasn’t got a chance,” Harry drawled. “And honestly Draco, if you’re so jealous of my fame, then you shouldn’t have accepted my gift from earlier.”

Draco rolled his eyes before looking at Ron. “What are you looking at Weasley?”

“What are you doing here Malfoy?” Ron said, looking at Draco as if he was something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe.

“This is a shop. I am shopping. A foreign concept for your family, I’m sure. Your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all of this, I suppose,” Draco said.

Ron went red. He dropped his books into Ginny’s cauldron and started toward Draco, but Neville and Hermione grabbed the back of his jacket.

“Ron!” an older man who was obviously his father said, struggling over with Fred and George. “What are you doing? It’s too crowded in here, let’s go outside.”

“Well, well, well—Arthur Weasley.”

Mr. Malfoy appeared as if from thin air. He stood with his hand on Draco’s shoulder, sneering in just the same way.

“Lucius,” Mr. Weasley said, nodding coldly.

“Busy time at the Ministry, I hear,” Mr. Malfoy said. “All those raids … I hope they’re paying you overtime?”

He reached into Ginny’s cauldron and extracted a very old, very battered copy of A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration. “Obviously not,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?”

Mr. Weasley flushed darker than Ron as Draco struggled to hold in a snicker. “We have a very different idea of what disgraces the names of wizards, Malfoy,” he said.

“Clearly,” Mr. Malfoy said, his pale eyes straying to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who were watching apprehensively. “The company you keep, Weasley … and I thought your family could sink no lower—”

There was a thud of metal as Ginny’s cauldron went flying. Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads; there was a yell of “Get him, Dad!” from Fred or George; Mrs. Weasley was shrieking, “No, Arthur, no!”; the crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over; “Gentlemen, please—please!” cried the assistant.

Harry looked between the two men for a moment and snapped his fingers. Bright orbs of colorful light burst around him and the two fighting men and the crowd all recoiled at the light. Harry sighed and dimmed the light, letting his orbs dance around his outstretched hand before bursting like bubbles. “Honestly,” he muttered coldly, looking at Mr. Malfoy.

He was still holding Ginny’s old Transfiguration book. He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice. “Here, girl—take your book—it’s the best your father can give you—” He straightened his robes and beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop.

Draco hesitated, looking at Harry. “Go, I’ll write you,” Harry sighed. Draco nodded and glared at the Weasleys as he left, Blaise following after. Harry stood for a moment and looked at Ginny who was picking up her books.

“Potter?” He turned to see Neville staring at him apprehensively.

“See you at school,” Harry sneered and walked out of the door—only to be followed by the Weasley Twins.

“That was some lightwork, Harry,” Fred said.

“Too bad your best friend’s dad a prick,” George said.

“I mean he’s a prick as well, but his dad’s a bigger prick,” Fred said. “Anyway, how was your summer?”

“Fun,” Harry smiled, “I stayed with my mentor and his son obviously—Tom is so handsome I cannot even begin to describe him—and when I wasn’t with my mentor and Tom, I was visiting my friends. … including Draco.”

“So you met His Royal Prickness, before?” Fred asked.

“And are best friends with Princely Prick,” George chuckled.

“What is it with you two today and prick?” Harry asked.

“They’re fun!” George grinned.

“They are indeed, but also is the word fanny,” Fred grinned.

“Uh okay, well how was your summer?” Harry asked, not wanting to know what sort of double meaning or innuendo the twins were talking about. “Was Granger and Longbottom at your home for long?”

“Granger no, but Neville visited for a couple of weeks, you’ll never guess what he brought with him,” Fred said.

“It can’t be intelligence, he’s friends with Ron,” Harry said. The twins lightly smacked the back of his head, “Ow! What was that for?”

“He’s our brother, we need to defend what little honor he has left,” Fred shrugged. “And no, it was this invisibility cloak! Apparently, it’s been in his family for generations, and nobody even knew it! Not even his gran! And the best part is that it still totally works!”

“Really?” Harry asked, an invisibility cloak sounds extremely useful. “Hang on, I thought their magic fades with time or something?”

“Oh it does, normally, but Neville’s still works perfectly,” George said. “He even used it himself in front of us. Disappeared right in front of our eyes! Can’t say we’re not jealous, but we do have other means of getting around the castle.” He and Fred shared a smirk and Harry hummed.

“Sounds useful,” he said again.

“Yeah, I bet George could use it to sneak to his crush’s house,” Fred smirked.

“FRED!”

“What?” Fred laughed. “You would totally do that and be all ‘oh Cedric please kiss me,’” He made exaggerated kissing sounds as George’s cheeks turned red. Harry chuckled and smiled.

“I think it’s cute,” he said, “You mean Cedric as in Cedric Diggory? From Hufflepuff?”

“Yeah,” Fred grinned.

“Well George, you might end up like me and Tom,” Harry smiled, “anyway I have to go now—I have a prick to calm down, I’ll see you two at Hogwarts.”

“Bye Harry,” George said softly, still blushing red.

“Have fun taking care of that prick,” Fred snickered.

Still not knowing what he meant by that, Harry decided he would just owl order Lockhart’s books and went to the Leaky Cauldron, where he used the fireplace to get home and straight into Tom’s waiting arms.

Chapter Text

Chapter 21

Broomsticks and Dark Wizards

The rest of the summer was a blur, and much to Harry’s disappointment he was hugging his Master goodbye. Voldemort walked him to Kings Cross and kissed his forehead outside of the barrier, “Be a good boy Harry,” he said, “I will write to you often and figure out a way to get you in my arms.”

“Yes Master,” Harry whispered, “I love you.”

“Be good,” Voldemort chuckled. He kissed Harry’s cheek and sent Harry through the barrier. Voldemort was on Harry’s mind for the entire train ride to Hogwarts. Blaise and Draco gave a dramatic reenactment of what happened at the bookstore, with Harry only nodding along. He couldn’t help but worry about Tom. Did he make it to Durmstrang already? Was he safe? Making friends? No, the Dark Lord rarely makes friends, but then did he already found followers? Would the Headmaster recognize him?

Before Harry knew it, the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station, and instead of following the bellowing voice of Hagrid, the second-years all followed the rest of the students to carriages that were being pulled by the scariest horses Harry has ever seen. They were tall with a skeletal body and black leathery wings and skin. The students seemed to pay them no mind, so even though he was scared, Harry climbed into a carriage with his friends, and they were off up the path towards Hogwarts.

“Harry? Are you okay?” Daphne asked. “You were quiet the entire ride.”

Harry looked up and frowned, “Sorry,” he muttered, “I just miss him.”

“Who?”

“Tom,” Harry said before he could stop himself. He gasped and quickly said, “I mean—look just forget I said anything.”

Blaise stared at Harry for a moment and took his hand, “It’s okay to miss the Dark Lord,” he smiled as he put the two together. “And we promise to not mention your slip up.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispered. “I’m just so worried for him. He’s going to Durmstrang! He’s so far away and—I don’t know if I can handle it.”

“Of course you will,” Blaise grinned. “You’re the Dark Lord’s husband, eh? Knowing our Lord, he will find some way besides letters to talk with you, you’ll see.”

“He said the same thing,” Harry said. “You know, you’re right, I’m sure he will! And then who knows I might be able to celebrate one of the holidays with him, that would be good.”

“Exactly, now no more being depressed,” Blaise nodded, and he took his hand and threw it around Harry in a half-hug. Draco watched and pouted silently but Harry just rolled his eyes and pulled his other best friend in.

The rest of the carriage ride to Hogwarts had Harry in a much more positive mood. It was the beginning of a new school year—for both him and Tom. There was no need to be saddened about that at all, in fact, he really should be happy. Tom will find a way for them to be together—and in the meantime, Harry has his friends to celebrate the Wheel of Time with. Perhaps, all of his friends.

As expected, when the sorting came, Ginny Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor, and afterwards Lockhart was announced as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Harry’s stomach dropped at the thought of the man teaching them. For some odd reason, he thought that the glittering man was highly ineffective. He was all too happy to return to the dungeons, and after saying hello to the entire house who called out his name, Harry fell asleep as soon as his head hit his bed.

The next morning, Harry waited excitedly for the morning post as he ate his breakfast. It was cloudy, the ceiling of the Great Hall was gray and looking rather sad, but Harry smiled brightly when he saw the cloud of owls flying down towards them, Hedwig joining the bunch with an eagle owl. The two landed in front of Harry, Hedwig nipping at bacon on his plate as the eagle owl stuck out his leg. “Thank you,” Harry said as he took the letter and saw his Master’s handwriting.

“It’s from him!” he said excitedly to his friends. Pansy rolled her eyes and scoffed at Daphne, “Can you believe him?” she muttered. Daphne, who was wearing rather baggy robes for some reason, just smiled along, “Just let him be Pansy,” she said.

Harry opened the letter excitedly and began to read the letter.

My Little Snake,

Durmstrang, in a word, is interesting. I have not even been here a full day, yet the differences between it and Hogwarts are clear, even down to the sorting methods. Instead of a hat, we are given trials. Naturally, as your Master, they were but trifles to me, mere amusements, and so I was sorted into one of the most exclusive Families, or Semey: Volkovio. Surprisingly, the previous Dark Lord was from here. Poor Grindelwald, if this is a sign that we will not fail like him, I will take it gladly. He is still alive, you know. Perhaps I will bring you to meet him one day, I heard that he had an interesting history with the old fool.

That is all I know so far. I’ve yet to socialize with my new fellow classmates, however, I have taken a scroll into their library. It has nothing compared to the private collections of the Malfoys or Notts (which we will have possession of soon enough) nor even my own collection, however it is a start for what I have in mind. Honestly, this library is the sole reason why I’ve chosen this school. Two years of researching from here, and I believe we will be ready to step into the open. I will tell you more in person.

Be good Harry, you know my expectations.

Your Loving Master

“He’s in the most exclusive House in Durmstrang—or Family,” Harry gloated, “as he should be.”

“Why is he even going back to school?” Blaise whispered. “Isn’t he, uhh, old?”

Harry frowned at this, “I didn’t tell you?” he whispered. “He regained his youth—but look we’ll talk more about this later, okay? He’s just there for the library anyway.”

“Okay,” Blaise nodded, then he said in a normal voice, “So you two are serious about trying out for Quidditch?”

“Of course!” Harry grinned. “I have my broom in my trunk.”

“Same here,” Draco nodded. “I know that we’ll get in. Did you see the notice board?”

“No,” Harry said.

“Trials are next weekend,” Draco said, Harry, nodding along. They soon had their schedules, and the group shared a look of annoyance to see that they once again shared Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions with Gryffindor as well as Transfiguration. Today, they had double Charms with the Ravenclaws and Defense in the afternoon. “Oh joy, we get to see if Lockhart is as good as he says,” Draco drawled, “I have to admit that I’m not impressed so far.”

“Is he supposed to be?” Blaise smirked.

“Shut up!” Pansy said, “The two of you are obviously just jealous. Not everyone can get rid of the Bandon Banshee.”

“Or win Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile five times,” Daphne added.

The boys all stared at the two repulsed, “Oh god they’re worse than mother,” Draco muttered. Harry laughed as Pansy, and Daphne glared at Draco. Still smiling, Harry stood up and shouldered his bag, “Come on, let’s get to Charms, I don’t want Professor Flitwick being mad at me.”

Harry was one of Professor Flitwick’s favorite students. It was due to both his natural talent in the school of magic as well as Harry’s relationship with magic and how he can use it windlessly with ease at times. For the first day back, they were going over what they have learned last year. Harry easily made a small wooden block float into the air with a wand, as well as cast the severing and softening charms before Professor Flitwick asked him to try without a wand. Harry nodded and did what he was told. “Excellent Harry, excellent!” Professor Flitwick said, “Now, I am wondering something if you would please cast a fire orb.”

Harry nodded and waved a finger in a circle, a small fire orb appearing, and it started to dance around Harry’s hand before the boy opened his palm and let it rest only centimeters above it. “Excellent, excellent!” Professor Flitwick said, “This, Harry, is a higher leveled version of the Fire-Making charm. How many of these can you make at once? Have you tried to find your limit?” he asked.

“No Professor, I normally at most do two or three if needed,” Harry said.

“Well, seeing as how you have a mastery of the spells we will be going over today, I would like for you to find your limit,” Professor Flitwick said. He waved his wand and a large steel basin appeared before them. “Let us see how many of your fire orbs you can create and sustain. When you think you have reached your limit, I want you to place them all in here. Then we will see for how long you can hold it.”

“Sir, I normally just have them float around my hand,” Harry said.

“Yes but there is only so much room,” Professor Flitwick chuckled. "Now go on, there is something I wish to see.”

Harry nodded, so he focused on making as many fire orbs as possible for the rest of the class. They all floated around him naturally, however, he found himself having to focus on their orbits so as not to touch or burn any of his clothes. They hovered around his arms and he had to put them in the basin. Three were easy to make, but Harry found that he had trouble making the fifth one, and as he tried to make the sixth one near the end of class, all the others vanished. Harry huffed and patted his sweaty brow. Still, Flitwick praised him and awarded him ten points for Slytherin.

When class ended, the Slytherins decided to go outside where Harry played with his orbs of fire and light, making them do tricks. There was a flash and Harry turned to see a mousy little boy in Gryffindor robes and a giant camera. The first year saw Harry look at him and gave a short startled shock. “I’m sorry! I—”

“Did you just take my picture?” Harry asked.

“Sorry!” the first year Gryffindor said, “My name is Colin Creevey and I’m a huge fan! I know everything about you! Everyone’s told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and how you’ve still got a lightning scar on your forehead. And how like you’re in the same house as he is now—a lot of people don’t like that but I think it’s cool like you’re sort of an anti-hero or something!”

Harry scoffed at this and snapped his fingers, the orbs disappearing. “Look, kid—”

“Colin Creevey!”

“Yeah, Creevey, I don’t mean to be rude but, can you get lost?” Harry said, staring down at the small first year. He turned to go back to his friends.

“But—but just one picture? Please? I’m muggleborn, I never knew all of this odd stuff I could do was magic till I got my letter. My dad’s a milkman, he couldn’t believe it either. So I’m taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it’d be really good if I had one of you—”

“And I already told you no,” Harry groaned. “Now please go, I do not want my picture taken.”

“Like anyone would want a picture of you,” Ron Weasley sneered. “Creevey, get away from him. He’s a slimy, stupid git!”

“Oh that’s surprising considering he’s top in Defense and Charms last year,” Blaise hummed. “Or have you three forgotten?” He asked, looking at Hermione and Neville who were right behind them.

“Blaise, leave it,” Harry groaned. “Look kid—Creevey, just leave me alone. I’m not a hero and I don’t want you taking pictures of me.”

“But—”

“You really shouldn’t get near him, Colin,” Hermione Granger said, “Potter isn’t someone you should get to know. He can be dangerous.”

“Yeah,” Neville agreed, looking at Harry strangely. Harry met his stare and smirked when Neville flinched.

“You know,” he drawled, “I think I changed my mind. Why not have one picture taken? Here, I’ll even take it.” He held out his hand for the camera and Creevey looked conflicted before smiling brilliantly. He gave the camera to Harry and the young Slytherin went to a bench that Daphne and Pansy were sitting at. The girls made room and Harry pulled Colin with him. “Say Granger smells,” Harry grinned as he pulled Colin Creevey close to him. He took the picture and gave the camera back to Creevey. “There you go,” he said, “now if you don’t mind, I need to get ready for Defense.” He stood up and shouldered his bag.

“See you in class,” he grinned at Ron, Neville, and Hermione before leaving, the other Slytherins following him. Once they were away enough, Theo asked, “Harry are you feeling okay?”

“Perfectly,” Harry shrugged, “Just figured that it would be easier to take the picture and annoy those three instead of having that little brat keep asking.” He summoned a fireball and hummed as he tossed it from hand to hand.

The Slytherins took their seats in Lockhart’s classroom and Harry took out all seven of Lockhart’s books in front of him. After his encounter in Flourish and Blotts, he did not want to earn Lockhart’s attention. The rest of the class clattered in, and once everyone was sitting, Professor Lockhart walked in from a door in the back, smiling at all of them. He walked forward to where Ron, Neville, and Hermione were sitting and picked up one of Neville’s books and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

“Me,” he said, pointing to it and winking as well. “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming Smile Award—but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!”

He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.

“I’ve seen you’ve all brought a complete set of my books—well done. I thought we’d start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about—just to check how well you’ve read them, how much you’ve taken in—”

When he handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, “You have thirty minutes—start—now!

Harry looked down at his paper and read. It was all questions about Lockhart including what his favorite color was, along with his secret ambitions and ideal gift. In other words, in Harry’s opinion, it was a complete waste of time. So for all fifty-four questions, he has written down “I do not care.” and spent the rest of the half-hour making his quill do a little dance on his desk.

When the half-hour was over, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class. “Tut, tut—hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti.” Harry just rolled his eyes and huffed loudly, which Lockhart somehow missed. Instead, he started to praise Granger, who got all of the questions correct. Why aren’t I surprised? He thought. He raised his hand and Lockhart immediately zeroed in.

“Ah, Harry! You little scamp!” Lockhart smiled, “I saw your test, and while it is cute that you’ve answered each question with ‘I do not care,’ that will not earn you any points.”

“I don’t care, I was wondering what this has to do with today’s lesson, sir,” Harry said, keeping his voice polite. “How does knowing your favorite color tie into whatever spell or creature you’re planning on teaching us?”

“An excellent question Harry! And to show just the right attitude while being polite, I see what you are going for,” Lockhart chuckled. “Everyone loves a loveable bad boy. But yes—our lesson! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourself facing your worst fears in the room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm.”

“This is rubbish,” Blaise whispered to Harry and Draco, both boys nodding. Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. “I must ask you not to scream,” Lockhart said in a low voice. “It might provoke them!” he pulled the cover off.

“Yes,” he said dramatically, “Freshly caught Cornish pixies.”

Seamus Finnigan started to laugh loudly. “They’re not—they’re not very dangerous,” Seamus laughed.

“Don’t be so sure!” Lockhart said, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. “Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!”

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they have started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

Then Lockhart opened the cage.

It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls. “Come on now—round them up, round them up,” Lockhart shouted. “They’re only pixies!”

Harry quickly pulled his friends down under the tables and huffed. “Can I burn them?” he asked.

“Can we just get out of here?” Draco asked, slapping a pixie that tried to get into his hair. “Ow!” he said when the pixie bit his finger. Harry nodded and grabbed Draco’s hand and ordered the others to hold each other’s hands. He then moved out of the table to see Lockhart try a spell that sounded like nonsense and did nothing. He waved his hand, focusing his magic on it. A large swirling orb of light started to form, changing from blues and reds to greens and yellows. “Close your eyes,” he warned his friends and tossed the orb into the air where it exploded into brilliant hues of colors that blinded the pixies and Gryffindors. Harry stood, his friends following, and they quickly made their way out of the classroom, Goyle closing the door behind them.

“Well,” Blaise said, “that was annoying.” He turned to Pansy and Daphne, “still think he’s brilliant?”

“I mean… maybe he knew what he was doing?” Pansy said weakly as Daphne just shook her head.

“Looks like it’s another year of studying on our own,” Theo said sadly, and Harry reluctantly agreed.

Harry and Draco were very excited to wake up on the morning of the Slytherin Quidditch team tryouts. They dressed in their flying robes and took out their Nimbus 2001s after eating breakfast and went down to the Quidditch Pitch where the Quidditch Captain Marcus Flint was waiting. “Potter! Malfoy! What are you thinking?” he asked when he saw the two.

“Trying out,” Harry grinned. “I’m Seeker and Draco’s Chaser.”

“Those brooms! Where did you get them?” Flint asked.

“Oh, I brought them,” Harry grinned. “So where do we stand?”

He heard laughing and saw Terrance Higgs walking towards them. “Harry! It’s been too long,” he said, “Cocky as ever I see.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked innocently. “I just asked where Draco and I need to stand so we can try out and join the team.” Higgs laughed again and slapped Flint’s back. “We’re going to destroy the other houses,” he said.

“We just might,” Flint nodded, “if they’re as good as their brooms.” He pointed for where they needed to stand and Harry saw that only three other students were trying out to be Seekers, all of them older than him. Still, he was confident and stood relaxed as Flint marched around the small crowd. They were only slots for Chasers and Seeker, apparently, so there weren’t many on the field. The Slytherin team stood to the side, their brooms held over their shoulders. “Alright, you hopefuls get on your brooms! I want to see if you can all even know how to fly. Five laps around the pitch! Don’t care what you’re trying out for, last three can get lost.”

Harry mounted his broom and leaned forward. It felt too natural to be on the broom, the wood sleek and easy to hold in his hands. Flint blew his whistle and Harry kicked off. He soared into the air and started slowly to get a feel of the broom. He kept with the crowd as he leaned left to right, feeling how his broom turned until he started to feel familiar with it. He looked around the crowd and caught eyes with Draco. They smirked and leaned forward as they started to race. The two quickly flew off from the crowd, getting half a lap in front of them quickly as they kept head to head. The two laughed and smiled as they went faster, completing the laps quickly and even lapping the others on the fourth lap. Harry and Draco landed victoriously as they waited for the others to finished, sharing a confident look as Flint looked at them, impressed.

Flint kicked the last three to complete their laps out then started with the chaser trials. It was simple, they had to make five goals while dodging bludgers knocked towards them by the Slytherin Beaters. Draco performed the best, easily able to outfly and dodge the bludgers on his Nimbus 2001 and easily scoring each time, making his five goals quickly. Flint told Draco to stand by the team as he dismissed the rest. Next, it was the Seekers’ trials, and Harry went first.

The potential seekers were to be timed as they chase and catch a practice snitch. He kicked off and flew high into the air to survey the pitch. He saw a glint of gold and started to chase it, seeing the snitch by the hoops on the opposite end. Harry dashed across the field quicker than ever before, and he was quickly on the chase for the snitch! He followed its movements, going around the hoops and stands as he gained on the snitch until—not even five minutes into his trial—he was able to reach out and catch the snitch! Harry held it up as he slowed down in front of Flint, smiling brilliantly.

Flint chuckled and looked at his watch. “I don’t think we even need to try the others,” he said, “Welcome to the team, Potter.”

Harry grinned brilliantly and ran towards Draco and the others. The two high-fived and the others congratulated them, ruffling Harry’s hair and patting their backs and shoulders. Flint went to them as soon as the last of the hopefuls left and said, “Practice’s every week. Do not be late. Play like your trails, Malfoy, Potter, and the Quidditch Cup is all ours.”

They were dismissed and Harry and Draco left together, talking excitedly about how they’ll win the cup. When they reached the courtyard, Harry saw the Weasley twins hunched towards each other whispering. “I’ll catch up with you later,” Harry told Draco, “Tell Blaise I’ll be fine, I’m with the good Weasleys.”

Draco just grunted and went into the castle as Harry approached the Weasleys. “Hey!” he grinned.

The two looked up at Harry. “Hiya Harry, is that a Nimbus 2001? What are you doing with that?” Fred asked, amazed.

“Just crushing the Seeker trial,” Harry grinned, “You’re looking at the new Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team.”

The twins whistled, “Congratulations on becoming our new target,” George said good-heartedly. “Just know we won’t take it easy on you because you’re our friend.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Harry said. “Not that either of you can hit me,” he smirked.

“Sounds like a challenge, doesn’t it Fred?” George asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely George,” Fred nodded. “I think we should make a Harry target-dummy.”

“Impossible, it wouldn’t be as cute or sly,” George said. “Or nearly as wily.”

“Actually, there’s something I’ve been thinking of,” Harry said, “can we talk? Seriously for a moment.” The twins nodded and Harry sat down between them. He laid the broom across of their laps and took a breath. “There’s something I want to tell you guys, and something I want to show you. You’re my friends, you know, and I trust you.”

“What’s going on Harry? Are you okay?” Fred asked.

“I’m okay,” Harry nodded, “I want to tell you guys about who I am. What I’m planning on doing next year.” He took a deep breath and said, “I celebrate the Old Holidays, the Wheel of Time. Do you know about them?”

“No,” Fred said.

“Never heard,” George said.

“That’s to be expected,” Harry frowned. “They’re our original holidays, it’s what we used to celebrate before the muggle holidays took over. There is this long and filled history about all of this—stuff that Professor Binns would never teach us. The point is, after thinking about it and hearing about it and actually celebrating Samhain—Halloween, I’ve decided that I’m going to become a Dark Wizard. That doesn’t mean I’m evil, it just means that I follow the Path of the Dark. I’m already really sensitive to the Dark Arts, and it is so much more than the Unforgivable Curses and other spells that can hurt! The voice mimicking spells we’ve done, for example, is Dark Magic and it is completely harmless by itself. Next year, I start my path officially but before that, I just want to invite you guys to Samhain. I want you guys to just see what I’m doing, see who I am.”

“You’re… you’re going to be a Dark Wizard?” Fred whispered. “Like You-Know-Who?”

“No,” Harry said quickly. “No, I’m going to be like myself. In fact,” He raised his hand and his orbs of light appeared. “Technically, these too are Dark Arts, and there’s this book full of healing spells that are also thrown into the Dark Arts.” He moved his hand towards Fred’s and smiled softly. He moved the light so that it was hovering over Fred’s hand. “It’s warm, isn’t it?” he said softly, Fred nodding.

“I’m not trying to turn you guys,” Harry said, “I don’t plan on turning you guys into Dark Wizards—and you don’t need to become Dark Wizards to celebrate the Wheel of Time—I just want you guys to know who and what I am. Because I hate the thought of lying to you.”

The twins were silent for a moment. Fred stared at the warm orb of light in his hands as George just stared at his lap. After a moment, George broke it, “Your mentor, Tom, is he a Dark Wizard too?”

“He is,” Harry nodded. “And he’s the kindest, nicest, most handsome person I know.”

“You really love him, huh?” George asked and Harry nodded. George looked at Fred who kept staring at the orb. “I think we should go, Fred,” he said.

“Is this… is Samhain going to be filled with Slytherins?” Fred asked.

“No,” Harry said, “There’ll be Ravenclaws too. There are four shacks that we come out of, one for each house. Slytherin and Ravenclaw are still in use, but there hasn’t been a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff in almost a hundred years!”

“Well,” Fred said, “Then I guess there’ll be two this year.”

“You mean you’ll go?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” the twins answered. Harry jumped up, his broom clattering to the floor and he turned around to hug both twins. “Thank you,” he said. “I promise you; you won’t regret it.” He stepped back and picked up his broom. “Any questions at all, I’ll answer it.”

“We’re trusting you, Harry,” Fred said.

“You won’t regret it,” Harry repeated the twins stood up and Harry hugged them again, smiling and promising to talk to them about it more later, even bringing some of the easy books he read to help them. They separated and Harry’s smile couldn’t go away. He joined the Quidditch Team and now the Weasley twins are going to join them at Samhain! Not even Lockhart could bring his mood down.

Chapter Text

Chapter 22

Samhain Revelation

Lockhart did not bring any other creatures to class after the pixie incident and instead took to just filling the class by doing dramatic reenactments of scenes from his books. He usually used Harry for these reenactments, having the Slytherin boy play the various monsters and creatures Lockhart supposedly defeated. In Herbology class, they were learning about Mandrakes, small plants that look like fat ugly babies whose loud, shrill cries can kill people. September and October were passing quickly, and before Harry knew it, due to classes and Quidditch Practice, Samhain was next week! He needed to still figure out how to get the twins to the celebration area, so after classes when Slytherin was in the common room, Harry went up to Terrance Higgs. “Hi Higgs,” he said.

“Harry! How’s our budding Dark Wizard?” Higgs smirked, “Being a good boy?”

“I am,” Harry nodded. “I want to ask you something, I have a couple of friends who are in a different house. They want to see Samhain, and what we do, so I was wondering, uh, how do they get to the area?”

“You mean how to get their common room’s door to get to the Forbidden Forest?” Higgs asked and Harry nodded.

“Easy, come here,” Higgs said. He walked towards the common room’s entrance with Harry following. He took out his wand and twirled it a little as he walked and looked down at Harry. “You just need to tap the knob twice with your wand,” he said. “That’s all. Try it.”

Harry pulled out his wand and tapped the doorknob twice. He heard a soft click and turned the knob. The boy gasped when he saw the forest outside of the door and held onto the knob as he took a step out. He was in the Forbidden Forest, holding onto the shack’s door. He quickly went back into the common room and closed the door. “Good, and to turn it back to normal, just tap it once,” Higgs said, tapping the knob. “From what I know, all the doors are the same.”

“Thank you! I’ll go find them and tell them right now,” Harry grinned. He went to his friends and asked Blaise and Draco to go with him, Higgs nodding approvingly as the three left.

They stepped out into the entrance hall and Draco asked, “Where are we going, Harry?”

“I need to tell the good Weasleys something important,” Harry said. He smiled at his best friends, “I may have convinced them to come to Samhain.”

“A Weasley at Samhain!” Draco gasped, before lowering his voice, “Harry are you serious?”

“Totally,” Harry hummed innocently. “I even taught them a dark spell last year. You know the mimicking spell? Where I used Ron Weasley’s voice? They loved that spell! In fact,” he leaned towards them and spoke in barely a whisper, “they helped me with that Cecil person.”

Blaise gave a low whistle while Draco just stared at Harry. “Potter, you really are going to be the Dark Lord’s husband,” he said softly. Harry just smiled and grabbed their hands, “Come on, let’s go find the good Weasleys.” He pulled them along, smiling brightly as he walked with a spring in his step, excited to tell Fred and George everything. They roamed the castle for an hour before finding the twins, surprisingly, in the library.

“This looks weird,” Harry said as he approached the two. Fred and George looked up and Fred rolled his eyes.

“Blame this one,” he muttered, jabbing a finger at George. “So what can we do for the only good Slytherin? And why are there two not good Slytherins behind you?”

“We need to travel in groups,” Harry shrugged. He sat down at the table, Draco and Blaise flanking him. The other two’s faces became stony and unreadable while Harry just continued to smile openly. “So you two are still up for Samhain?” he asked.

“Yeah, we are,” George nodded, looking distracted as he stared at another table. Fred kicked him and he jumped, “Yeah!”

“We’re still up for it, Harry,” Fred said.

“Okay,” Harry smiled. “Then on Samhain night you will take your wand and tap it twice on the door that leads out of your common room. The door will bring you to the area in the Forbidden Forest where we celebrate! It’s been there for ages, hundreds of years really. I’ll wait for you two, it starts normally around eight.”

“Tap the door twice at eight, got it,” Fred nodded.

Harry smiled, “Then I’ll see you two there,” he said. He stood up and gave the twins a final smile that left them both blushing before turning to walk away, Blaise and Draco following silently.

Samhain came with a cloudless day, and when night finally came Harry found himself nervously waiting through the feast. He kept glancing at the Gryffindor table watching the Weasley Twins act as normal. There was no professor who barged in to yell about a troll that year, so the Slytherins finished their meals and left in groups. Harry waited until his friends were done to leave the Great Hall. Once they were back in the common room, Daphne and Pansy ran to their dorms for a moment while the boys and Millicent waited. “So, what do you want to do tonight?” Blaise asked the group.

“I’m going to talk to my parents again,” Harry said, sounding serious for a moment. His voice was low, and he found himself staring at his hands. “I visited their graves during the summer. He brought me there, and I asked them to come talk with me again. I’m hoping that they will, just so I can hear their voices.”

“Then we’ll help you,” Blaise said immediately. Harry smiled and shook his head, “I can do this one alone.”

“Do you know the circle you have to draw?” Theo asked, “I can draw it for you.”

“Thank you, Theo, but my mentor taught me a basic ritual circle. I know how to draw it, though I don’t know what the runes in it mean yet,” Harry said. He smiled, “I’ll be fine, really. This is just something I need to do on my own before I can move on.”

“Okay, if you say so,” Blaise grumbled and, like Harry expected, he and Draco moved to hug him at the same time. He hugged them both and looked at Theo who stood shyly. He pulled the boy towards him and hugged him as well. Crabbe and Goyle just watched, Crabbe grunting “We don’t hug.” Harry just rolled his eyes at that.

Daphne and Pansy came back down a moment later, dressed in different clothes. Pansy had on a new skirt and top that were both emerald, green while Daphne wore a pair of pants that looked a little too big on her, as well as a long sleeve shirt. Both had on an open black robe over it. “I tried to get her to wear this cute matching skirt, but she wouldn’t,” Pansy pouted.

“I’m… more comfortable this way, and it’s a bit chilly tonight,” Daphne said. She picked at her clothes awkwardly and stood by Theo. “Anyway, what are we doing tonight?”

“Harry’s going to talk to his parents again, and we don’t know,” Blaise answered. “We’ll just figure out something to do when we get there.”

“It has to be important,” Pansy said. “Our Ritual of Intent is next year so we have to make good practice this year. Just no blood!”

“Don’t give anyone your blood,” Harry muttered. “Blood Magic is dangerous and very rare. True Blood Magic, that is. We’re going to need to give our blood for some rituals, but those are different.” He blinked and frowned, “Sorry, just something my mentor taught me.”

“He, uh, teaches you a lot of things, doesn’t he?” Pansy asked hesitantly.

Harry nodded and licked his lips. “Yeah, but he makes sure that I can handle it. One time, he showed me the Imperius Curse as a spell that I’ll learn when I’m older. I got impatient and tried to use it then when I was seven or eight. It didn’t end well.”

“Bloody hell Potter, you tried casting an Unforgivable Curse when you were only eight!?” Pansy demanded. Harry nodded sheepishly. “By the dark,” she muttered.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter now, I know my limits,” Harry said, “mostly.” He shook his head and smiled at his friends, “Come on! It’s Samhain we should be celebrating. Let’s go to the forest!”

“You heard the pipsqueak!” A seventh year yelled out, “Everyone form a line.” The Slytherin House readied themselves to celebrate their Holiday, and Harry made sure that Salazar was comfortable on his rock on the fireplace mantel before they all left. The group stepped through the door after someone tapped it twice with their wand, and Harry smiled as he walked into the Forbidden Forest. The large crowd of students separated instantly, friends going off to do their own rituals and hang around while lovers went to find a private place for themselves.

Harry looked back at where they came from and watched as the Ravenclaw door opened and a handful of students walked out into the clearing, Harry even recognizing some students in his year! His eyes drifted towards the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor shacks, both looking abandoned and covered in moss. He stepped to the side to wait, his friends staying with him. “Harry?”

“I’m okay,” Harry said, “I just want to greet Fred and George, they’ll show up,” he said. He continued to wait and stare at the closed door, noticing the ivy that crawled along the shack’s windows and wondered what sort of plant life was living in the broken-down shack. Five minutes passed with the door not moving.

Then it started to shake. The door rocked on its hinged back and forth, pounding out through the forest. Those close enough to the four shacks stopped what they were doing and turned to watch. The pounding increased, the door shaking madly as the ivy and vines around the shack started to retreat. Then the door opened slowly, groaning, and crying out from not being used in over a century, and Fred and George Weasley stepped through.

“Weasleys?”

“Why are Gryffindors here?”

“Is this a joke?”

“Isn’t that the Gryffindors Potter seduced?”

“What’s going on?”

Whispers erupted around them and the two twins slowed nervously. Harry, however, grinned and ran up to them, hugging his friends, “You made it,” he said excitedly. “What took so long? Did the spell not work?”

“It worked, but you try sneaking out of Gryffindor Tower on Halloween—I mean Samhain,” Fred said. “Also the door weighed a ton! What was it made of?”

“I mean, your shack is in a pretty sad state,” Harry giggled as he pointed at the Gryffindor Shack, which was still looking as overgrown as possible, but now its door was opened, and Harry could see an explosion of reds and golds inside before the door closed itself up again. “You see, long ago all four houses celebrated these holidays like I told you, but over time the Light forgot about them, and now only Slytherin and a few Ravenclaws celebrate—and you two,” he grinned.

“Harry! What’s going on here?” Terrance Higgs ran up to them, his eyes on Fred and George. “What are the Weasleys doing here? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay Higgs,” Harry nodded. “I just asked my friends if they wanted to just check out Samhain, and what we celebrate. They said yes.”

“So uh, there’s no creepy sacrificing going on here—is there?” Fred asked. “From what Harry told us it sounds like a party but uhh, we weren’t sure.” The twins looked around at the multiple fires and ritual circles being drawn.

Higgs just glared at the two, “Will you tell anyone what you saw here?”

“Absolutely not!” George said immediately. “I promise my brother and I are just curious—”

Before George could continue, there was another banging sound. The four turned to the shacks again, their eyes going to Gryffindor’s shack. Its door, however, stayed firmly shut. Their eyes slowly moved towards Hufflepuff’s shack, and like rolling thunder, the door creaked opened, and one lone figure stepped out.

He was a handsome boy who looked to be around Fred and George’s age. He was tall with chiseled features, dark hair, and bright gray eyes. He also had the look of starting to become burly and well-built. George flushed immediately as Fred scowled. Higgs just scoffed, “Great first the Weasleys now Diggory. Is the whole school turning Dark now?”

The group watched Diggory as he walked only a few feet from the Hufflepuff shack and took out his wand. He began drawing a ritual circle and Harry gasped as did Higgs. “No way,” Higgs muttered. “By the dark, there is no way.”

“Uh, Harry? What’s going on?” Fred asked, leaning towards the small Slytherin. “What is Diggory doing?”

“He’s doing a ritual,” Harry said.

“He’s doing the Ritual of Intent,” Higgs whispered. “Harry look, do you see how he is placing candles in the circle? Seven candles for the seven holidays.” Harry nodded and watched as Diggory pulled out a knife and took a breath. “You need blood as well?” Harry asked.

Higgs nodded, “This one requires the most blood. To prove your intentions true, you need to give an offering or sacrifice to the Dark Magic. Most of the time, it is just a little bit of blood.” Harry nodded and they watched as Diggory pricked his finger with the knife, and moved to each candle, letting a couple of drops fall into each one. He then wiped his knife clean, sucked at the wound to help stop the bleeding, and took out his wand. With a simple wave, the candles were all lit, giving off a deeply red flame. Diggory pointed his wand at the center of the circle and another flame appeared, burning without tinder. “I stand as a circle never-ending and eternal. I stand here with magic, never-ending and eternal. I am here to present myself to Dark Magic and let my will flow through it as its magicks flow through me. My name is Cedric Diggory! I stand at the precipice of my journey and I ask that you accept me.” The red flames started to flicker, and Cedric Diggory took a breath. “Guide my thoughts, actions, and words. Let the Dark consume my core though it may have Light, I will be your vessel and instrument. Please accept my plea and watch over me as I descend into your dark embrace!”

The candles all flared and in the center, the fire turned into a light purple, its smoke changing colors as well as it hovered. The smoke smelled strange, not like smoke at all, but sweeter, almost like pudding to Harry. Higgs gave a low whistle as they watched the swirling smoke. “Interesting,” he hummed. He glanced at Harry and explained, “The fire in the center shows how your magical core is. Normally, people are neutral and so the fire will look normal at this stage, but Diggory’s is a light purple, showing a slight lean towards the Dark Arts. The boy will have a difficult time on his journey, but it will be interesting to see, eh?”

Harry just nodded and looked up at the twins who both were watching Diggory intensely. They all watched as the smoke moved as though it had a consciousness of its own, caressing Diggory as it swirled around him. It rested around his head, maybe whispering something, before returning to the fire where it continued to burn for a while before extinguishing itself, leaving just the ritual circle and the seven burning candles. Diggory, however, was smiling as he pointed his wand at the circle. “By the Dark, I thank and praise you for granting me this power. This humble wizard thank you for allowing him to step into your embrace. I swear to give my thoughts, words, and actions in your Name and do honor to it through my deeds. As I start my path, I know you will be with me. Even when I am alone, I know that I will always be with Dark Magic, and so I will always be with those who are connected through your power. With my duty done and my goal achieved, I praise and thank you, Dark Magic, endless and eternal, and so I close my circle.”

Cedric walked around slowly and blew the candles out one by one. When he was done, he collected the candles and finally noticed that he was being watched. He blinked embarrassed before smiling when he saw the Weasley Twins. He walked towards them.

“Well that was fun to watch,” Higgs said. “See you later, Harry.” He patted Harry’s shoulder and nodded to the Weasley twins before walking off just as Cedric reached them. “Fred! George, I didn’t expect to see you two here, are you having a good Samhain?”

George stuttered, his cheeks going red, so his twin has to talk for him. “Honestly, we’re just looking around. Harry here invited us, and it sounds interesting.”

“So you two haven’t done your Rituals of Intent yet?” Cedric asked, looking between the two. “Don’t worry, I get it, it took me a whole year debating if I should do it too. I know I’m a bit late, but as long as I get the path done, I’ll be happy.”

“Does your dad know about this? Or your mum?” George asked, finally finding his voice.

“No, they wouldn’t understand,” Cedric said. “My Family is Light, always has been, but I just never felt comfortable with both them and it. It took me a while to think of why. At first, I thought that it was only because I like boys instead of girls, but still, I felt that it was something more.” Cedric’s eyes flickered to when he saw George’s cheeks blushed deeper. “You two didn’t know?” he asked.

“Nah, you’re always surrounded by pretty girls,” Fred said, sounding a little jealous.

Cedric laughed, “Yeah, well, those girls don’t interest me at all, I rather like my boys cute and on the tall side,” he winked. Is this what flirting looks like? Harry wondered. “Anyway, it wasn’t until I actually looked into it, and had my core examined to see what felt wrong. Though slight, my magical core leaned towards the Dark Arts. And, after extensive research, I decided to go down this Path.” He smiled and gave a small chuckle as he said, “As weird as it sounds, even though I’ve just started, I already feel more at home with myself.”

“Well damn,” Fred muttered. “We’re just here because Harry asked us and we got a kick with that Mimicking Spell we used.”

“You guys already used a Dark Art!?” Cedric gasped. “How did it feel? Did you get a rush?”

“Yeah, you can kind of describe it like that,” Fred nodded. “It did felt good, though I don’t know if that’s because of the spell itself or because we were using it to take down that Harvey prick.”

“It felt really good,” George nodded. He looked at Fred and looked as though he was trying to come up with a very hard decision. Harry wondered for a moment what he was thinking about but did not want to interrupt them at all. Fred and Cedric fell to talking about Quidditch and the teams they cheer for (they both agree that the Chudley Cannons are awful) when George cleared his throat.

“I want to do it,” he said.

“I’m sorry?” Cedric said, turning to George.

“I want to do that ritual—the one you just did,” George said.

“Woah! George, I thought we agreed that we’re just here to watch,” Fred said quickly.

“I know, but just the way Cedric described it, it feels the same,” George said, looking bashful. He took a deep breath and stared at Cedric. “I’m gay too,” he admitted. “And, I’ve always felt out of place at home. I love my mum, I really do, but there are times when she would just ask us if we had any girlfriends. It’s especially worse with my older brothers and, well, since Percy started dating that Clearwater girl, it felt like it’s getting worse. I tried to tell her, but every time I do she would just start going off on the type of girls she thinks would be good for me. Only… only Fred knows, and now you two. I just want a place to belong, somewhere where I can just be myself, you know. I try to hide it by joking around, but…” George stopped, and his eyes started to look misty. He grabbed his arms and held them to his chest, “I just want to belong,” he finished softly.

Fred sighed, “Well, if it’s going to be this way, then I’ll do it too.” George looked at him in shock. “What? You honestly think I would leave you behind? No way little brother, we do this together. Diggory, think you can help us?”

“I would be honored!” Cedric smiled. “Oh—Potter, I didn’t even see you here, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Harry said, giving him a polite smile, “I’ll leave you three to it.” He gave George a tight hug and waved goodbye to the other two before he walked off into the forest. He wanted to be completely alone for this.

Harry kept walking until he could barely hear the others. Then he made sure he had enough space to draw his ritual circle and took out his wand to draw it. When he was done, Harry pocketed his wand and waved his hand in a circle, summoning his fire orbs which he placed in the center of the circle. The orbs melded together into a roaring fire and Harry sighed. He suddenly felt very nervous. What would happen if they didn’t show up? Or if Piers appeared again? Harry didn’t know if he could handle facing him again, however the young twelve-year-old was determined to see this through. He was strong! He was going to be Voldemort’s husband! He will not let a ghost cause him to faint once more.

Filled with determination, Harry started the ritual. “I stand as a circle never-ending and eternal. I stand here with magic, never-ending and eternal. I call upon Dark Magic to bring my lost home. I ask humbly for Death to grant me my request and let the dead visit for just this night! Per Tenebris ego imperium!”

Just as last year, a thick fog developed around Harry. He stood his ground and waited. Would Death show up once more? He didn’t want that. All he wanted was his parents.

Then, walking from the hazy fog, Harry saw two figures. Harry couldn’t help but smile when he saw the faces of James and Lily Potter once more. The couple now just holding hands as they looked at Harry blankly. “Thank you,” Harry breathed. “Thank you for listening, mum, dad.”

They were silent.

Harry was prepared for that. He took a breath and said, “A bit has happened since we last talked. I got the Trace off of me, Tom helped me with that. And we got a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher! He’s kind of useless, though. He makes me act like all of these creatures and it’s really embarrassing. He let pixies out into the classroom on his first class, and he couldn’t even control them! I had to blind the pixies so me and my friends could run out without getting hurt. But it’s okay, I heard that Lockhart—that’s his name by the way—had Weasley, Longbottom, and Granger get the pixies.

“Anyway, uhh I’ve been getting good grades, I’m even really good at Potions!” Harry smiled. “Though, Draco gets annoyed a bit whenever I beat him at it, those are the best—oh, oh and best of all I’ve just joined the Quidditch team!” Harry’s dad looked up at that. Harry grinned, “I’m the new Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch Team!”

Mr. Potter looked conflicted. Harry waited for a reply and licked his lips nervously. He waited for them to talk, to say anything. Instead they just continued to stare at Harry sadly. “Does it hurt?” he asked, “Coming here? Would you rather be back in heaven? That’s where you are, right?” he looked at their parents. Lily nodded. “You’re in heaven! I knew you would be,” Harry said, giving a relieved smile.

Harry went quiet, not knowing what to say. He and his parents just stared at each other. After a while, Harry just sighed and shook his head, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have hoped for much,” he muttered. He moved to end the ritual when two voices stopped him. “Harry.”

He looked up to see his parents staring at him. He smiled and sniffled, “Thank you,” he whispered and ended the ritual, watching the fog and his parents drift away. Harry smiled and wiped away his tears. He wandered around a bit as he looked for his friends. He found Fred, George, and Cedric Diggory talking with a group of Slytherins in their year and decided to leave them.

Harry found his friends near the shack and smiled. Wordlessly, they left and went through the shack back into the common room. “I’m so hungry,” Blaise groaned. “How about we all go to the kitchen for some cake?”

“Yeah, I would like that,” Harry nodded. The others agreed one by one, so instead of going to bed, the second years all left the dungeon. They climbed the stairs to the entrance hall when Harry stopped.

“Rip… tear… kill…”

“Hang on, did you hear that?” Harry said.

“Hear what?” Blaise asked.

“I thought I heard a voice,” Harry said, “you didn’t hear it?”

“The only one talking is you,” Pansy said.

“I smell Blood… I SMELL BLOOD!”

The voice sounded like it was moving. Harry started following it automatically, running through the entrance hall and up the marble staircase to the second floor, but the group couldn’t get through. The corridor was crowded with students all muttering to themselves and someone was screaming. Harry and the others pushed through the crowd only to stop suddenly at the sight in front of him.

Filch was holding his cat who looked unnaturally stiffed as Professors surrounded him as well as Longbottom, Granger, and Ron Weasley who were standing awkwardly to the side. There was a glint and Harry looked up. Something was shining on the wall ahead. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Chapter Text

Chapter 23

A Golden Point of View

Neville Longbottom didn’t normally describe himself as being rather brave. As a child, he was a small cowardly boy. He lived with his grandmother and for most of his life and he didn’t even show magic until he was almost nine. His family thought that the boy would be a Squib, a person from a magical family but have no magical abilities, until one day his great-uncle dropped him out of a window and the boy just bounced.

That did not mean that the boy had an easy life. He was constantly compared to his parents who were both successful Aurors at their time, and now that he was in Hogwarts, his grandmother kept pressure on him to perform well. He was really good at Herbology, he would even be the best student actually if Hermione weren’t already that. However that did not matter much to his grandmother, and it was the only class that he was good at. With the others, he needed help from Hermione and his classmates. He was awful at Potions, bullocks at Transfiguration, only alright at Charms, and he would rather you not mention Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Still, despite his poor grades, Neville Longbottom was a loyal and brave friend, even if he was the one being dragged around from place to place sometimes. During his first year, Neville had trouble making friends. Sure he was nice enough to his dormmates, but Seamus and Dean seemed to instantly become inseparable and with Ron, he was just too obsessed with the Slytherin Harry Potter. None of the boys would be close to what Neville would call a true friend. But then, Halloween happened. It wasn’t Neville’s fault, not really. Earlier that day, they were learning the Levitation spell in Charms and Ron made Hermione upset when he made fun of her. She spent the rest of the day in the girls’ bathroom crying, so when the troll broke in she didn’t know. Ron and Neville rushed to go save her only to have to fight the troll themselves! It was lucky that they didn’t get too hurt or expelled over this! But the event changed everything between the three of them, and they’ve been true friends ever since.

True friends that always seemed to find some sort of trouble. After the troll, they saw that Snape was limping. The three figured that the Potions Master must have tried to get past the three-headed dog in the third-floor corridor! Which got the three wondering what could be hidden behind the dog. Looking back on it, Neville will admit that it was luck that they’ve befriended Hagrid, the gamekeeper, as he gave them the first clue connecting Dumbledore and the famous alchemist, Nicholas Flamel, who they learned after months of research has created the Philosopher’s Stone! Snape must be trying to steal the Philosopher’s Stone! But why? It was Ron who pointed out that maybe the slimy git, Ron’s words, was actually working with You-Know-Who! That’s why he wanted to steal it. So, the three made a plan: they would go out and steal the stone before Snape could! They waited until the end of the school year, too distracted with an incident involving a baby dragon and Hagrid, and after finals, they went to the third-floor corridor.

It was difficult. Neville had to play a recorder to put the dog to sleep, and after that, Ron almost got suffocated by the Devil’s Snare. But Neville and Hermione were able to save him. After that, it was one trial after another that they have only barely been able to stumble through until they reached the end. They entered the room with only a mirror in it and looked around. There was no Snape, and as soon as Neville looked into the mirror, he gasped when he saw himself holding the stone! He pulled Hermione and Ron there and they all saw the same thing in various degrees. The stone was in the mirror! And it was completely safe!

Exhausted, but satisfied, the trio returned back to Gryffindor Tower.

All of this was to say that Neville could be brave when he wanted to, but it was usually Ron or Hermione who dragged them into danger or try to help others. But if they did nothing, the danger would always find them.

It was Halloween again on their second year at Hogwarts, and the three were late to the feast because of a ghost party. “That damn Potter, who does he think he is,” Ron muttered angrily. “He definitely cheated on McGonagall’s test! And have you seen the way he looked during Potions? He’s the only Slytherin that Snape doesn’t favor, and he still gets top marks!”

Hermione frowned and glanced at Neville. This was unfortunately a familiar thing between the three of them. Ron always complained about Potter whenever he could. “And do you see the looks Ginny’s been giving him! I swear if he tries to talk to her again I’ll hex his nose off and make him dance in front of everyone!”

“That might be a bit much,” Hermione said, “Though I agree with something is up with Potter, I heard from Terry Boot that he barely studies.”

“Wait really?” Neville asked.

“Since when did you talk to Boot?” Ron asked.

“Since we study together in the library—do you two even know where it is?” Hermione asked. Neville’s ears went pink while Ron just rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s somewhere on the third floor?” he suggested.

“No Ron, it’s on the first floor,” Hermione sighed. “Anyway, I walked with Terry Boot one time, and he mentioned that Harry barely studied at all, even in his common room. He heard that from Nott.”

“That slimy snake! He has to be cheating!” Ron said, “We should tell McGonagall and get him in trouble!”

“It would be really bad if Potter really is cheating,” Hermione muttered.

“Can we do this after the feast? We’re as late as it is,” Neville said. He frowned and said, “We shouldn’t have said we’d go to Nearly Headless Nick’s Deathday party.”

“You’re right, it was awful,” Ron agreed. “Did you see the food there? It smelled terrible.”

“And Moaning Myrtle saw us,” Hermione added. “I’m just glad we got away from her quickly.” The other two nodded in agreement. Neville stopped and looked around. They were on the second floor now, and something seemed off. He didn’t know what, but the back of his neck stood up as he squinted down the corridor. Hermione gasped and pointed down it, “Look!”

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE.

“What’s that thing—hanging underneath?” Ron asked, a slight quiver in his voice.

As they edged nearer, Neville almost slipped—there was a large puddle of water on the floor. Ron and Hermione grabbed him, and they inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All three of them realized what it was at once and leapt backward with a splash.

Mrs. Norris, the caretaker’s cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring. For a few seconds, they didn’t move. Then Ron said, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Shouldn’t we try and help—” Neville began awkwardly.

“Trust me,” Ron said. “We don’t want to be found here.”

But it was too late. A rumble as though of distant thunder told them that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; the next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.

The chatter, buttle, and noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Neville, Ron, and Hermione stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight.

The professors arrived a second later and Filch pushed through them all, screaming that it was Neville and his friends who did this as the professors tried to calm both him and the students. There was movement in the crowd, and Neville saw Ron scowling instantly at the sight of Harry Potter.

“She is not dead, Argus,” Dumbledore said, his voice breathing through the corridor. “She has been petrified. But how, I cannot say.”

“Ask them, they’re the ones who did it,” Filch shrieked, turning his blotched and tear-stained face to Neville, Ron, and Hermione.

“No second year could do this,” Dumbledore said firmly. “It would take Dark magic of the most advanced kind.”

“My cat’s been petrified!” Filch yelled. “I want to see some punishment!”

“We will be able to cure her, Argus,” Dumbledore said patiently. “Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris.”

“I’ll make it,” Lockhart burst in. “I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restoration Draught in my sleep—”

“Excuse me,” Snape said icily. “But I believe I am the Potions master at this school.”

There was an awkward pause and Dumbledore dismissed the students. Neville watched Harry Potter as the boy’s eyes stared at the writing on the wall. He did not look scared or worried like the rest of the school, but rather curious. Malfoy came up to Potter and patted his shoulder, smirking. The two left and Neville frowned. What was that about?

“You saw it too?” Ron whispered, “The way Potter and Malfoy looked.”

“It was weird,” Neville said. “I don’t like it.”

For a few days, the school could talk of little else but the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone’s mind by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back. Neville had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone. When Filch wasn’t guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students, and trying to put them in detention for things like breathing loudly and looking happy.

The attack had an effect on Hermione. It was quite usual for Hermione to spend a lot of time reading, but she was now doing almost nothing else. Nor could Neville and Ron get much response from her when they asked what she was up to, and not until the following Wednesday did they find out why.

They were in History of Magic with the Slytherins when Hermione raised her hand. “Professor? I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets,” Hermione said in a clear voice.

Professor Binns, so unused to students interrupting, stopped and stared at Hermione. He looked like he was about to dismiss her question when he saw that the entire class was awake for once. “Fine then, I will tell you about the ludicrous and sensational tale of this legend,” he muttered. “You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four schools of Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution.”

He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued, not noticing Potter muttering something under his breath and his friends nodding.

“For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school.

“Reliable historical sources tell us this much. But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. Slytherin sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic.”

There was silence as he finished telling the story, but it wasn’t the usual, sleepy silence that filled Professor Binn’s class. There was unease in the air as everyone continued to watch him, hoping for more, Professor Binns looked annoyed.

Then Potter raised his hand. “Sir? What do you mean by ‘the horror within?’ What does the chamber supposedly hold?”

“It is believed that the Chamber of Secrets hold a monster that only the heir can control,” Professor Binns said. Potter looked thoughtful and Neville and Ron shared a suspicious look.

“He knows something! He must!” Ron said as soon as they were out. “Harry Potter the Heir of Slytherin? It makes too much sense!”

“Ron honestly,” Hermione sighed, “Potter?”

“It makes sense,” Neville muttered, “I even heard he has a pet snake named Salazar.”

“That’s too on the nose,” Hermione frowned. “I mean I get that Potter is—well Potter, but still, he defeated You-Know-Who. Why would he go and open up the Chamber of Secrets?”

“Must be preparing to become the next Dark Lord,” Ron muttered.

“Ron!”

“But how do we prove it?” Neville asked darkly.

“There might be a way,” Hermione said slowly. “Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We’d be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect. What we’d need to do is to get inside the Slytherin common room and ask Potter a few questions without him realizing it’s us.”

“But that’s impossible!” Neville said as Ron laughed.

“No, it’s not,” Hermione said, “All we’d need would be some Polyjuice Potion.”

“What’s that?” the boys asked at the same time.

“Snape mentioned it a few weeks ago, it transforms you into someone else. Think about it! We could change into three of the Slytherins. No one would know it was us. Potter would probably tell us everything.”

“Sounds good let’s do it!” Ron said excitedly. “I can’t wait to get some dirt on Potter and Malfoy!”

“Either way,” Neville said, “We don’t know for certain until we do it. The potion, I mean.” He frowned, “I really don’t like the sound of this, but I think we should look into it. I mean it wouldn’t hurt. Let’s go and check out where Mrs. Norris was attacked!”

“You’re right,” Hermione nodded. “Come on, Filch shouldn’t be in the corridor hopefully.” The three nodded and ran down towards the second-floor corridor.

Harry, meanwhile, made his way from History of Magic causally to the Slytherin’s common room. “Harry, what are you thinking?” Blaise asked.

“I have some questions that I would like to ask my mentor,” Harry hummed as he sat down. He took out a quill and parchment and paused. “Do you think I should get straight to business or mention that I aced my Potions and Charms tests again? Oh and there’s also my Quidditch Practice that’s going well too.” He thought for a moment and said, “I’ll just include everything.”

Master,

I miss you so much! I’ve done really well on my recent tests; they were so hard Blaise kept me up till almost midnight studying for them. Samhain went very well, my parents agreed to talk to me, I think. They only said my name, but it was enough for me. I also was able to get Fred and George Weasley to come, they’re my friends from Gryffindor, and you’ll never believe it! They agreed to start their Journey!! Also, a Hufflepuff named Cedric Diggory started as well! I think George really likes Cedric, like how I love you, Tom. I hope things go well for them.

Anyway, after Samhain, there was a commotion. I heard a voice in the walls, a voice that only I can hear, and Mrs. Norris, the caretaker’s cat, was petrified and there was writing on the wall that said ‘The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir beware.’ And today in History of Magic, Granger was able to make Professor Binns talk about the Chamber of Secrets. I have a few questions about it. Do you know about the Chamber? It was said that only the Heir of Slytherin could open it, does that mean they need Parseltongue? Also is the monster inside some sort of snake? I don’t know what is going on, but I don’t like it, Master. What should I do? I’m at a complete loss and could really use your help.

Love,

Harry

Chapter Text

Chapter 24

Letters and Dueling

Tom’s reply did not come until a few days later, on the Saturday morning of Harry and Draco’s first Quidditch match of the season, which just happened to be against Gryffindor. The boys were not announced yet as official team members, Flint, and the others wanted to keep that as a surprise, so the boys sat in their regular robes that morning as the rest of the team wore their Quidditch robes. Hedwig flew down with a letter tied to her, and she nibbled on Draco’s food as Harry took the letter. For some reason, it was warm to the touch. “It’s from my Mentor,” He smiled at his friends before reading the letter.

Harry,

This is very troubling. What is happening at Hogwarts should not be happening at all. It is impossible. The Chamber of Secrets should not be able to open without either of us knowing about it solely because you need to be a Parseltongue to open it. The Heir of Slytherin is exactly as it sounds, a descendant of Slytherin, for our gift of Parseltongue is hereditary. I am the true Heir of Slytherin, and you are technically as well due to your special position as my living vessel. This is dangerous for it means that an imposter is somehow able to have access to Slytherin’s weapon and monster, a Basilisk almost as old as the castle itself. In the imposter’s hands, they can abuse the monster and used it for their own goals.

However, before we continue, there are things that I wish to explain, such as my own personal use of the Basilisk and the reason why this letter was warm when you touched it. To put it simply, I’ve applied a Dark Spell to my letter so as only the recipient can touch it. Attached to the letter are instructions on how to perform this spell yourself. Think of this as a little gift from Durmstrang’s library. You are to perform this spell on every single letter you send. Not only to me but to your friends as well. If I remember correctly, most of their parents are overconfident in their status and do not even bother.

As for my own use of the Basilisk, it was after Adrian and I have discovered my true origins. We were sixteen years old, and I cannot even begin to describe the beauty of the creature. It was through seeing her that Adrian and I have realized truly Slytherin’s Great Ambition and have sent her out. We wanted to observe how the Basilisk travels when just outside the entrance it encounters its first victim in almost a millennium. A muggleborn girl whose name I honestly do not remember, not that it was important. Remember this Harry: The Basilisk’s stare is deadly. There is no protection, so if you ever encounter her do not meet her eyes. Her fangs are also just as deadly; however, I would like to assume that to be obvious.

You should proceed with caution my little snake. Find this imposter, find out both his motives and his methods of accessing the Chamber of Secrets and Basilisk. Once you’ve obtained such information, you must strike them down. Regain control over the Basilisk. She will listen to you for you are the Heir of Slytherin. So far, only this cat is petrified. That would mean that she had indirect contact with the Basilisk’s eyes.

One last thing. When you find the Basilisk, do not close your eyes. She will take it as a sign of cowardness. Keep your eyes open but stare ahead, never focusing. You must do this Harry. The Basilisk must be able to see your eyes, but you must never look into hers. I know you can do this; I believe in you.

Yours,

Tom

Harry’s head felt a little full at the letter. He folded it and turned the page to see the second page that Tom promised. He skimmed it to see that it was indeed instructions on a Letter-Privacy Spell. “What is it? What does he say?” Draco whispered.

Harry shook his head, “I’ll tell you all at the usual place after the match,” he said. “For now we should go get our brooms Draco.” The blond nodded and the two said goodbye to their friends before running down to the dungeons. Harry looked over his shoulder and frowned, suddenly remembering something the twins told him before school began. “Longbottom has an Invisibility Cloak, which means that Weasley and Granger have it as well,” he said. “I do not like the way they were looking at you and me when Mrs. Norris was found. Be careful.”

“You know I will,” Draco smirked but he nodded. Harry just grunted in response. They went to their dorms, grabbed their brooms and Quidditch robes, and went back to the entrance hall just in time to get with their team. The older and taller teens all surrounded Harry and Draco to keep them hidden and as a unit, the Slytherins went down to the Quidditch Pitch.

When they were in the Slytherin team's room, Flint brought them together for a pep talk. “We have Wood out there overconfident with his win over the Quidditch Cup last year. However, he doesn’t know about our two newest recruits and their brooms. Let’s go wipe the smirks off those Gryffindors’ faces!”

The room cheered and readied themselves to step out. Harry walked over to Draco and patted his shoulder, “Nervous?” he asked.

“Of course not,” Draco said, though his eyes showed the truth. “You?”

“No,” Harry scoffed. “Compared to what my Master told me to do? This will be easy.”

“And what exactly did he tell you to do?” Draco asked.

“I’ll tell you after we win. Now let’s go, I want to beat Fred and George,” Harry grinned.

It was a muggy day with a hint of thunder in the air. As they walked out of the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly cheers for the Gryffindors as Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to watch the Slytherins beaten. “And here we have the Slytherin Team!” Harry heard Fred and George’s friend Lee Jordan announce. “Led by Marcus Flint the—hang on! Is that Harry Potter I see? As well as Draco Malfoy? What are they doing here and with Nimbus 2001s? That is dirty cheating right there!”

“They are on the Quidditch Team obviously, Mr. Jordan, now focus on your job!” came Professor McGonagall’s voice.

The Gryffindor team was surprised to see the two second-years as well. Harry spotted Fred and George and grinned widely, waving at them before winking. Fred laughed loudly as George did his best to hold it in. However, their laughs quickly died as a serious expression took over. Madam Hooch had Flint and Wood, a rather handsome teen, shake hands, which they did, giving each other murderous glares as they did so.

“On my whistle,” Madam Hooch said, “Three… two… one…”

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch.

The Gryffindor Seeker was a fifth-year named Jeremy Walker. He was a petite boy and rather pretty in Harry’s opinion. Harry saw the Gryffindor Seeker fly around the pitch as he was their eyes surveying the field for the Golden Snitch. As he did so, Harry couldn’t help but keep an ear out to Jordan’s commentary. “Malfoy rushes by with the Quaffle! Dodging an excellent hit by Fred Weasley as Katie comes up to—NOO! Malfoy dodges her as well and reaches the hoops—he throws—and Slytherin scores, proving the competitive advantage of the Nimbus 2001! However, if the points were for the rider’s skill or the broom itself is up for debate!”

“JORDAN!”

“Just saying what I’m seeing Professor,” Lee Jordan said. Good, Draco was handling himself well. That was a relief in Harry’s mind. He kept an eye on Walker to see the boy flying around by the Gryffindor Hoops. Harry was able to look there when he saw a flash—he spun excitedly only to see, much to his disappointment, it was only Colin Creevey taking pictures from the stands.

I will not lose because of that, Harry thought bitterly as he continued to look around. The rain had started to fall as Slytherin kept scoring goals. Twenty minutes into the match, the score was 50-10, and Harry was getting desperate to get out of the rain because it kept fogging up his glasses.

Three times now, he had to stop and furiously rub her glasses clean on his robes before smashing them back on to just get them wet and foggy again. “HARRY!” A voice yelled out from the crowd. Harry looked around to see Blaise waving towards him. Harry made a beeline to him and said, “I can’t see a thing!”

“Give me your glasses, quick!” Blaise said. Harry gave them to him and Blaise quickly pointed his wand at them, “Impervius! There, that’ll keep them clear for you!” Blaise said and he gave Harry back his glasses. It was true! The rain was falling hard now, and the water just bounced off of his glasses perfectly. Harry smiled thanks and quickly flew off before anyone was the wiser. He went back to surveying the pitch and saw that Walker was still doing the same. It was so much easier now to look around the pitch. The rain just kept bouncing off of his glasses, so it never fogged and everything around him looked so clear! He saw another glint and thought for a moment that it was Colin Creevey taking pictures again only to see it again and realize that it was nowhere near the Gryffindor stands. Harry focused and gasped when he saw that it was the snitch!

The snitch was flying around the Slytherin hoops! He quickly looked for Walker who was still looking around on the opposite side of the pitch. Wasting no time, Harry leaned towards his broom and sped towards the hoops. “Potter is moving fast!” Jordan announced. “I think through Beginner’s luck he’s seen the Snitch!”

Walker stopped and immediately began chasing after Harry, but he was too far behind. Harry was locked onto the Golden Snitch. He kept low to his broom as he sped after it, his eyes never leaving, and his broom following to the slightest prompts to turn and dive as he followed the trail. It was almost too easy, no match at all, as Harry gained on the Snitch, rolling out of the way from a Bludger sent by the twins, and with his outreached hand—he grabbed the Snitch! “Potter has the Snitch! Potter has the Snitch! Through luck, Slytherin wins!” Jordan announced, sounding almost bittered. The Slytherins all cheered while the rest of the school grumbled miserably. The team gathered together, Harry holding the Snitch up high as they cheered.

Harry was hailed a Slytherin hero as the team made their way back to the Slytherin common room where the entire House celebrated their victory. “The Cup is ours again!” Marcus Flint yelled out to everyone. “First we got Potter to join the Dark and now we got him to join Quidditch! It is a good day for Slytherin!”

“YEAH!” the rest of the House cheered. Harry’s face was entirely crimson, but he smiled nevertheless, feeling extremely accomplished. It wasn’t until hours later, even with the celebration in full swing, that Harry and his friends were able to sneak into the boys’ dormitory. There, Harry told his friends everything that Tom’s letter said.

“So there’s an imposter running around claiming to be you?” Daphne asked.

“Not me exactly but the Heir of Slytherin,” Harry said, “And I think Longbottom and Weasley are looking to blame me for it.”

“But you are the Heir of Slytherin,” Pansy said, “So they would be right, right? I mean you can talk to snakes and you’re being taught by the Dark Lord!”

“I know and someone is ruining my name!” Harry said, sounding frustrated. “Master entrusted me to figure out what is going on and stop them. And as much as I hate it, I think I should first see what Weasley and Longbottom knows.”

“And how do you suppose to do that?” Draco asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry sighed. “But I’ll worry about that later. For now, we should go back to celebrating.”

The others agreed and returned back to the common room. The celebrations lasted until well beyond midnight, and when Harry finally went to be he was beyond exhausted but smiling all the same.

The next morning, however, brought tragic news to Hogwarts. Harry walked into the Great Hall to hear that it was erupting with whispers, and people turned to glare at him. He shrugged the glares off, figuring it was because he won the Quidditch match, but then as he passed the Ravenclaw table, he overheard two students. “Apparently he was found in the dungeons trying to take a picture of Potter.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and his muggle camera’s insides turned to goop!”

“How horrible! Where is he now?”

“In the Hospital Wing, petrified like Mrs. Norris.”

Petrified? Someone was petrified like Mrs. Norris? Harry went over this new development in his head as they sat down. “Someone was petrified in the dungeons,” he said to his friends. “He had a camera looking for me.”

“I heard,” Draco said.

“I heard it was that Creevey kid,” Pansy said. “Overheard two Gryffindors in the bathroom.”

“When did you go to the bathroom?” Draco asked.

“Draco! Are you honestly asking me that?” Pansy gasped. “Look—from the sounds of it that Creevey kid got petrified. The fake Heir of Slytherin struck again!”

“And I’m the one being blamed for it,” Harry sighed. He shook his head. “Nothing we can do until Weasley and Longbottom make their moves. I know they’re up to something with Granger.”

“So until then?” Theo asked.

“We act like normal. People will bully us and call us names, but it’ll be like nothing’s changed,” Harry said a little sadly, knowing too well how right he will be.

The Slytherins always suffered glares and the odd spell thrown their way, but ever since Colin Creevey was attacked, it seemed like open season on the Slytherins. Tripping spells by the stairs, horrible acne and hair-growing spells, curses, and foul language were thrown at the house of snakes whenever the other three houses could, with the snakes throwing back in kind. Harry and his friends never left without at least two others and their hands were always in their pockets holding their wands. Sometimes, for extra protection, Harry would sneak Salazar out into the Great Hall and have him sniff their food before eating, making a small plate for Salazar.

Before Harry knew it, it was the second week of December and He, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle all signed up to stay at school for the Yule holidays. The Golden Trio, as Pansy sarcastically called them one day, also signed up to stay as well which Harry thought was a little suspicious. He was starting to feel tense from all this waiting. Sometimes he just wanted to burst into Gryffindor Tower and scream at the three to tell him what they were planning. However, he restrained himself, somehow, but he still needed something to let out all of his frustration.

A week later Harry found an outsource. There was a post on the notice board about a Dueling Club starting that night at eight. “A dueling club?” Blaise hummed. “Could be fun.”

“I wouldn’t mind dueling Weasley,” Malfoy smirked. “Just think about him blubbering on with spells!”

“It would also be a first-hand experience to what people use against Dark Magic,” Theo piped out, “well, at least minor jinxes.”

“More importantly it sounds like fun,” Harry said. “We should go.” The others all agreed so at eight o’clock that evening they hurried back to the Great Hall. The long dining tables have vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.

“I guess they all thought they could duel Slytherin’s monster,” Harry commented.

“I wonder who will be teaching this anyway,” Daphne said, “The notice didn’t say.”

“I hope Snape,” Blaise said. “Mother told me once he was a great dueler. One time, her third husband challenged him to a duel. He lost so bad that mother had to divorce him to get away from the shame.”

“That would be good,” Harry said. “As long as it’s not—” but he ended up groaning. Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, dressed in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.

“At least it’s half good,” Draco muttered.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, “Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club to train you all in case you need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions! Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape. He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin.” Snape just looked around, he did not smile or even looked like he was enjoying being there. “Now I don’t want any of you, youngsters, to worry—you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!”

Snape’s upper lip was curling. Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling. Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

“He’s going to hurt Lockhart,” Draco said with a sense of glee. Harry just nodded, half paying attention to what Lockhart was saying. Lockhart counted down and before he could even finish arcing his wand above his head, Snape moved with a speed Harry never saw as he jabbed his wand crying, “Expelliarmus!” There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet; he flew backward off the stage, smashing into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

The Slytherins laughed, Harry and Draco loudest of all as some cheered.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. “An excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind me saying it was pretty obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been really too easy.”

“Then perhaps it would be prudent to first teach the students how to block unfriendly spells,” Snape said.

“An excellent suggestion, Professor Snape!” Lockhart said after a moment’s hesitation. He turned around and looked at the crowd. “Let’s have a volunteer pair ah Potter! Yes and Weasley, how about you?”

Harry didn’t want to, but he couldn’t deny the chance of showing Weasley up. He stepped onto the stage by Professor Snape as Ron Weasley climbed up by Lockhart’s side. Harry passed Snape wordlessly and pulled out his wand, glaring down at Ron.

“Potter,” Weasley said venomously. Harry just raised an eyebrow at him. What do you know? He wondered. Would it be easy to pull it out? Or hard?

“Wands at the ready and bow!” Lockhart called out. “On the count of three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent—only to disarm! We don’t want any accidents here. One… two… three—”

Harry moved his wand quickly, jabbing it when Ron’s was still high in the air, “Everte Statum!” The spell hit Weasley so hard that he flew back into the air, doing a whole flip, before falling back on the stage. Weasley growled out frustratedly and jabbed his wand, “Rictusempra!”

A jet of silver light hit Harry in the stomach, and he doubled as he fell. What was supposed to be the Tickling Spell instead caused Harry to fall, his stomach doubling in pain for a moment before subsiding.

“I said disarm only!” Lockhart yelled out.

Harry pushed himself up and glared at Weasley. Weasley sent another spell at Harry but instead of standing still or trying to block it, he ducked, and instead, the spell zoomed by, hitting the wall. “Come on Potter! What are you doing?” Weasley yelled.

“Dodging,” Harry answered simply. He whipped his arm and yelled, “Expelliarmus!” The scarlet spell hit Ron and his wand jumped out of his hand. The Slytherins cheered as Lockhart clapped.

“Yes, yes that is exactly as I taught you, Harry! Now—”

“HARRY POTTER IS THE HEIR OF SLYTHERIN!” Ron screamed furiously.

The hall went silent. Harry stared at him shocked, and Ron smirked. “Harry is the Heir of Slytherin! He has a snake and talks to him and everything! I saw it! He brings it out during breakfast and dinner sometimes and talks to it!”

“Weasley you will stop uttering such nonsense this instant,” Professor Snape said, “Five points from Gryffindor—”

“It’s true! Colin Creevey got attacked because he tried to sneak into the Slytherin’s dormitory to get another picture of Potter!” Ron shouted again.

“Detention. With me, tonight,” Snape said. He looked at Harry with a weird inquisitive look that had the boy squirming slightly.

The silence broke and people began to whisper. Harry heard his name everywhere and for the first time felt petrified himself. Lockhart tried to take control, waving his arms, “Now, now it is not good to throw such frivolous lies around! I have a clue on exactly who this Heir of Slytherin is, and young Harry here is far from the type!”

They were all quickly dismissed but Harry couldn’t move. Snape had to grab him by the collar of his robes to drag him out of his state and Harry stumbled to walk, silently joining his friends as everyone else jumped out of the way of him as though he was contagious. “Come on,” Blaise mumbled, and they returned to the dungeons.

“Potter!” Higgs said the moment they stepped inside, “Why didn’t you tell us you’re a Parselmouth?”

“Don’t,” Harry muttered. He went to the fireplace and took Salazar off of his rock. The snake hissed slightly but coiled around Harry as the boy fell into the nearest seat. Harry just stared ahead blankly as his mind tried to work out anything to do. Weasley called him the Heir of Slytherin, which he technically is, but would the school believe it? The students looked like they do but what about the professors? The school term was almost over. Could their opinions change in so little a time?

Even though he was worried, Harry found that he lost little sleep over this. By next morning, the snow that had begun in the night had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lesson of the term was canceled. Professor Sprout wanted to fit socks and scarves on the mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else now that it was so important for the mandrakes to grow quickly and revive Mrs. Norris and Colin Creevey.

Harry was getting a bit antsy just sitting in the common room. He was struck with a sudden urge to find Fred and George, if not to just see that they’re above the rumors. So with surprising ease, the Slytherin snuck out of the common room alone and took to the corridors.

The castle was darker than it usually was in the daytime because of the thick, swirling gray snow at every window. Shivering, Harry walked past classrooms while lessons were taking place, catching snatches of what was happening within. He reached the third floor when two arms shot out of a door and grabbed him. Harry yelled as he was dragged inside only to see the grinning faces of Fred and George Weasley. “Hiya Harry,” Fred said casually, “knew you were dropping by.”

“Fred, George,” Harry said, doing his best to act like he did not yell. “I was just looking for you.”

“We know,” Fred said.

“We wanted to see you too.”

“To ask a couple of questions.”

“And to give an early Christmas—uhh an early Yule give,” George said.

“A gift?” Harry asked, “and you said, Yule!”

“I mean we are Dark Wizards now I guess,” Fred said. “Said those fancy words and everything.”

“Yeah, we did,” George said, smiling. “But more importantly: Is it true you’re the Heir of Slytherin?”

“No!” Harry said quickly. “And I have no idea who is attacking the students, I really don’t. Ron just yelled that out of nowhere.” He took a breath and said more calmly, “I honestly don’t know who the Heir of Slytherin is, but I hope they would stop.”

The twins hummed, “Well, maybe this will help,” George said as he pulled something out of his pocket. It was an old piece of parchment that folded out with nothing on it. Harry took it and looked at it quizzically.

“Uh thank you? What exactly is this?” Harry asked.

“That, young Slytherin, is the secret to our success,” Fred said, patting the parchment fondly. “It’s a wrench, giving it to you, but we decided your needs are better than ours.”

“Anyway we know it by heart,” George said. “We bequeath it to you. We don’t really need it anymore.”

“And what do I do with an old piece of parchment exactly?” Harry asked.

“A bit of old parchment!” Fred gasped, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Harry had mortally offended him. “Explain George.”

“Well, this little beauty’s taught us more than all the teachers in this school,” George said. He took out his wand, touched the parchment lightly, and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider’s web from the point that George’s wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words that proclaimed:

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief Makers
are proud to present

THE MARAUDER’S MAP

It was a map showing every detail of Hogwarts and its grounds. But the truly remarkable thing was the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing. Astounded, Harry bent over it. A labeled dot in the top left corner showed that Professor Dumbledore was pacing his study. Harry also noticed that the map showed a set of passages he had never entered. And many of them seemed to lead outside the castle and grounds.

“Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs,” George sighed, patting the heading of the map. “We owe them so much.”

“Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers,” Fred said solemnly.

“Right,” George said briskly. “Don’t forget to wipe it after you’ve used it or anyone could read it. Just put your wand on the map and say ‘Mischief Manage!’ And it’ll go blank.” He tapped his wand as he said it and the lines disappeared.

“This is incredible! Thank you guys,” Harry grinned. “I didn’t know exactly what I did to deserve this.”

“Well you introduced us to the Dark Arts for one,” Fred said.

“And Cedric!” George said excitedly. “Oh, Harry! I have to tell you—we’ve been hanging out, you know, talking, and we actually have a date set up during the holidays!”

“Really? Congratulations,” Harry grinned. “I hope it goes well.”

“He’s been talking about nothing else,” Fred said with a groan, however, he was smiling brightly. “Anyway, that was all we wanted to give to you and say.”

“Yeah and he’s bringing us over for the Yule celebration,” George added. “The Ritual of Announcement, right? We’re going to do that and Cedric was acting like it’s going to be our second date!”

“Oh great, I have that to look forward to,” Fred said sarcastically. “Anyway, have fun with that map Harry, and good luck in whatever you’re scheming.”

“I’m not scheming anything,” Harry said, but the twins just laughed and winked at him as the three stepped out. Harry looked at the map and hummed thoughtfully. A map of Hogwarts that showed everything, huh? Sounds very useful. I might catch the imposter with this, he thought as he started to make his way back to the common room. More importantly, it’ll help me find out what exactly Weasley and Longbottom are up to. Either way, this is going to be fun.

Chapter Text

Chapter 25

Yuletide Polyjuice

Harry lost hours just studying the Marauder’s Map. He would sit up in his bed at night and just stare at it, watching the labeled dots move about the castle. He barely registered the news that there was another attack, this time the Basilisk petrified a boy in Harry’s year named Justin Finch-Fletchey as well as the Gryffindor’s House Ghost Nearly Headless Nick. The double attack turned the nervousness that hung around Hogwarts into a real panic. There was almost a stampede to book seats on the Hogwarts Express so that students could go home for Christmas.

The only Slytherins that chose to stay at the castle were Harry, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. The whole Weasley lot was staying over as well, Harry heard from George and Fred, as well as Longbottom and Granger as to be expected. Harry felt almost bad for the two, only to hear that lastly, Cedric Diggory was staying so he could, to use Fred’s words as he described it, “snog the daylight out of George on Yule.”

Harry was happy that most people were leaving. He was tired of people skirting around him in the corridors, as though he was about to sprout fangs or spit poison; tired of all the muttering, pointing, and hissing as he passed. Still, he had a task, and he will finish it. Someone was misusing what should be his title, and he would very much like to figure out who. So he watched the map every night until he could barely stay awake, and he waited for whatever plan Ron Weasley and his friends had in store. All he really could figure out was that they kept meeting in the same place every now and again. A girl’s bathroom on the second floor. He tried going there one time when the three were away, only to be caught and yelled at by the older Weasley. Percy, Harry thought his name was.

The term ended, and a silence deep as the snow on the grounds descended on the castle. Harry found it peaceful, rather than gloomy, and enjoyed the fact that he and Draco had the run of the Slytherin Dungeons. The two practiced dueling with Crabbe and Goyle watching. Sometimes they would use the two as target practices and Harry made sure to get them snacks as a way of saying “thank you for being our target dummies.”

On Yule morning, the four woke up to the usual pile of presents in front of their beds. “Happy Yule,” Harry smiled cheerfully at them. Draco just mumbled groggily as Crabbe and Goyle just nodded. Harry’s smile persisted and he turned to his gifts.

He got another Weasley Sweater from Mrs. Weasley along with a tin of freshly baked fudge and a note asking if he can come to visit during the summer so they could properly meet. Harry liked the idea; he was getting closer to Fred and George and now that they had no secrets between them it might be fun to spend a day or two with them (as well as antagonize Ron). Draco has gotten him a book on famous Seeker plays that had moving pictures showing the moves. He and Theo continued to give each other clothes this year, Harry getting a very comfortable-looking robe that was his favorite color! Blaise also gave him clothes, and Daphne and Pansy gave him toys for Salazar.

The best gift however was from Voldemort. Harry gasped when he saw the small box with a note attached to it. He took the note and opened it carefully.

My little snake,

I miss you too much. A semester without even seeing you is torture, and as strange as it sounds all I can think of is having you in my arms again. I know I have given you what seems like a herculean task; however, I know that you can do it. I put my faith in you entirely, Harry. You are special to me, and I am counting down the days until I can keep you in my arms forever. Until then, behave. Be a good boy and know that I will always support you.

Yours always,

Tom

Harry’s heart sang at the letter. He read it three times, each time causing his heart to race faster and his cheeks to grow redder. Tom called himself Harry’s! And he wants Harry in his arms forever! He couldn’t believe it! He hugged the letter tightly to his chest before opening the present itself. He gave a loud gasp at it. Inside was a beautiful pendant with a golden chain. The pendent was two snakes entwined together, circling a ruby-stone, and almost looking like a heart. Harry put it on immediately and wasn’t surprised to see that it fitted perfectly.

“Harry! That’s beautiful,” Draco said, looking up from his own pile of presents. “Who sent you it?”

“My Master,” Harry purred affectionately.

Draco took a step closer to examine it. “The girls are going to be so jealous,” he said, looking up at Harry.

“I know,” He grinned. He decided to wear it over his clothes, his smile never going away even when he went down to the Great Hall for the feast. There were a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, with enchanted snow falling, warm and dry. He didn’t care that Ron was still giving him strange looks, as if he knew something that Harry did not. It was Yule and Harry was all too caught in the feeling. The Slytherins celebrated their own way, and Harry couldn’t help but smile brightly when he saw Cedric move from the Hufflepuff table to the Gryffindor Table, kissing George’s cheek in front of everyone before taking the twins with him as he left the Great Hall.

When Harry and Draco were full, they left Crabbe and Goyle at the table as they return to the common room. The two friends have gotten comfortable, and Harry opened his map once more, finding the Golden Trio’s names quickly. “What is that?” Draco asked.

“Just a special map,” Harry hummed. “I’ll tell you about it later.” His eyes never left Ron and Neville’s names. Granger returned to the girls’ bathroom on the second floor while the boys lingered. Ron and Neville seemed to linger outside in the entrance hall and after what felt like forever, Crabbe and Goyle finally moved. The two dots moved out of the Great Hall and stopped at the entrance hall. Then Neville and Ron met up with them and the four moved to a broom closet, and then only Neville and Ron moved away. Harry raised an eyebrow at that. What happened? He thought as he continued to watch the two as they reunited with Hermione Granger in the second-floor girls’ bathroom.

“This should be interesting,” Harry said softly.

“Hmm?” Draco said, looking up.

“Nothing,” Harry said, looking up to smile at his friend. “Just something that the map is showing.”

“What does it even show?” Draco asked.

“Short version, all of Hogwarts and where everyone is,” Harry said. “Early Yule present from Fred and George. I’ll tell you more about it later, alright?”

“Okay,” Draco nodded, though he sat up at the thought of it. He looked over Harry’s shoulder and looked at the map. “Hang on—is that actually Longbottom and Weasley?” he asked, pointing to their names.

“Yeah, and they are actually in a girls’ bathroom,” Harry snickered. They continued to watch the three Gryffindors. After a moment, Longbottom and Weasley left the bathroom with Granger still inside. Harry didn’t think much about it and saw that Draco returned to reading a letter. Harry kept watch on the two and saw that they were stumbling around the dungeons. What are they doing?

He stood up with the map and said, “I’m going to bring Crabbe and Goyle back before they eat Hogwarts dry.”

“Alright, have fun,” Draco shrugged. “If you see Longbottom, jinx his shoes for me.”

Harry nodded and went out of the common room. He followed his map and saw that they were now with Percy Weasley, however when he turned the corner, Harry was confused to see that it wasn’t Longbottom or the two Weasleys standing in front of him, but Crabbe and Goyle as well as Percy Weasley. “I am a prefect,” Percy Weasley said, drawing himself up. “Nothing’s about to attack me.”

“There you two are,” Harry said, deciding to make himself known. He walked up to the three of them and said, “have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? Come on, I’ve been looking for you.” He then glanced at Percy Weasley.

“You’re pretty brave to be here, eh Weasley? Why is it that the only good ones are the twins?” he said.

“You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect!” he said, “I don’t like your attitude.”

“And I don’t like your smell, but you don’t see me complaining about it. Come on Crabbe, Goyle,” and he motioned for them to follow him. He checked the map as he did so subtly, to see that his own dot was walking with two dots labeled “Ron Weasley” and “Neville Longbottom.” So they’ve changed how they looked, somehow. I think I heard about a potion that can do this, he thought to himself. He grinned. This is too interesting.

“Can you believe that Weasley?” Harry said aloud. “Thinking he can just tell us what we can do in our own dungeon? It’s a shame he’s related to Fred and George, they’re the only good Weasleys I swear.”

He glanced but neither reacted. Harry shrugged and went to the entrance to the common room and said the password before stepping inside casually. He glanced to see the two moving almost hesitantly and smirked, “What’s the matter? Need to use the bathroom?”

Goyle flinched at that. “N-No,” he said.

Draco looked up from his seat, “Crabbe! Goyle! Took your time,” he said. “Sit down,” he pointed to two empty chairs. As the two sat down, Harry went to the fireplace where Salazar was sleeping on his heating rock. He tapped his wand to the piece of paper muttering, “Mischief Managed!” The map disappeared and he slipped it into his pocket before picking up Salazar.

He turned and Draco grinned, reaching up for the snake. “Give him to me, I haven’t had him all day!” he demanded.

“Touchy,” Harry chuckled. He sat down next to Draco, almost lounging onto him, and allowed Salazar to curl on his lap. “Why did you have to wake me up?” the snake grumbled.

“Smell Crabbe and Goyle, they seem weird,” Harry hissed back casually. He saw that Crabbe jumped at that and almost gave Harry a dirty look while Goyle looked as though he was going to faint. Harry just smiled innocently and said, “Crabbe! I was looking through that knitting magazine you told me about, the muggle one, and found some needles that came in different colors as well as a sale on yarn. Would you like me to get you some? The needles come in pink, purple, green, blue, or red.”

Crabbe thought for a moment and gave an odd smile, “Pink,” he grunted.

Draco raised an eyebrow at that, “I thought you hated pink,” he said.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, nodding. “You just told us recently about how much you hated knitting with pink. What was it? Pansy asked you to make something using it?”

“Oh, uh right,” Crabbe muttered. “Then uhh blue?”

Harry nodded and leaned back, “You know,” he said as Salazar slipped off of his lap. “I’m surprised that the Daily Prophet’s not talking about the attacks. I guess Dumbledore’s trying to hush it all up.”

“He’ll be sacked if it doesn’t stop soon,” Draco said. “Father’s always said old Dumbledore’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to this place. He loves Muggleborns. A decent Headmaster would never let them in, especially with how they treated our holidays!” Harry glanced at Draco and cleared his throat.

“Anyway, I’m just going to be glad when all this business is done,” Harry said. “This Heir of Slytherin stuff and the muggleborns getting petrified, it’s all nonsense.”

“You mean you don’t know who the Heir of Slytherin is?” Goyle asked.

Draco scoffed, “Are you mad of course we don’t!” Draco said.

“How about you two,” Harry asked. “Do you have any ideas?”

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other gobsmacked. “Err—well,” Goyle began. “Not really.”

Harry leaned back and sighed. Salazar climbed up to his lap again and then began to slither up around his neck. “They smell completely different. Nastier than usual.” Harry just hummed and pet Salazar before letting the snake go to Draco who cooed and petted the snake gently. Harry rolled his eyes at the two and turned to the intruders. Maybe I can give them something to work with, just to watch them squirm, he thought.

“Pity, then it seems all we know is what I know,” he hummed. “That fifty years ago the Chamber was opened, and when it did, someone died. Do you think that it’ll happen again? Somebody dying.”

“I hope for Granger honestly,” Draco said, distracted. “The school can use less of her obnoxiousness.”

Crabbe’s fists were clenching and Goyle gave him a warning shot as he looked as though he was going to punch Draco.

“D’you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?” Goyle asked.

“Hmm, not a clue, but they most likely were,” Harry hummed.

“I asked father and he wouldn’t tell me anything, just that they were sent to Azkaban,” Draco said before turning his attention to Salazar once more. “Salazar, do you want a big fat rat? I think you do, what if we steal Weasley’s rat and feed it to you? The monster gets Granger, and you get Weasley’s rat! That sounds good, right?”

“Then you’ll give my snake indigestion, and I will be angry,” Harry said, his tone threatening but he smiled. Crabbe and Goyle squirmed in their seats and he turned to them. Crabbe’s face started to get red—in fact, his hair was starting to get red as well! And his nose started to lengthen. Harry could barely hold in his laugh as he said, “You look really red, are you okay Crabbe?” He got up to help Crabbe up but both boys sprang up.

“Stomachache,” Crabbe blurted out. “I have to go.”

“I’ll—I’ll take him,” Goyle said and the two rushed out. Harry laughed loudly the second that the door closed, and he fell back next to Draco. He pulled out his map and opened it to see Weasley and Longbottom running back to the second-floor girls’ bathroom. Draco looked as well and blinked, “Hang on—how are Crabbe and Goyle in the closet already?”

Harry rolled his eyes and patted Draco’s head. “You just spent almost an hour conversating with Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom,” he said, smiling. “And all you did was threaten to feed Granger to the Basilisk followed by Weasley’s rat.”

“That was Weasley?” Draco shrieked.

“And Longbottom,” Harry nodded. “It looks like they’re doing the same as me and trying to find out who the imposter is—of course, they don’t know the culprit is an Imposter.”

“But you told them about the last time fifty years ago! And someone dying,” Draco said. “And you spoke Parseltongue in front of them!”

“I did indeed,” Harry nodded. “Now, it is time to sit back and see what they do. After all, no matter where they go, I’ll always find them,” he tapped the map with a finger and smiled. “And if I see someone moving around suspiciously, well, that’s all the better.”

“Harry Potter,” Draco said slowly, looking at Harry completely amazed. “That is absolutely brilliant! I didn’t even think to do that!”

“Of course you haven’t,” Harry hummed. “You need to be this good to be the Dark Lord’s husband. Though I’m confused on why only Longbottom and Weasley showed up and not Granger. It looks like she never left the girls’ bathroom.”

“That’s very strange,” Draco hummed. “So, should we go get the real Crabbe and Goyle?”

Harry looked at the map for a moment before humming. “Uhh nah, I’m sure they’ll be fine. Come on, I’m getting tired, and I want to finish the book Higgs got me.”

Granger was sent to stay in the hospital wing for several weeks. There was a flurry of rumors about her disappearance when the rest of the school arrived back from their Christmas holidays because of course everyone thought that she was attacked. So many students filed past the hospital wing trying to catch a glimpse at her that Madam Pomfrey took out her curtains again and placed them around Hermione’s bed. Though Harry was able to get a description of how she looked thanks to Salazar, whom Harry had slither into the hospital wing one night. Apparently, she was furry like a cat, specifically Millicent Bulstrode’s cat, a hairy large creature who hissed at anyone who tried to go near it. When Harry told his friends, they would not stop laughing about it until a week later.

In the meantime, Harry took to following Weasley and Longbottom whenever he could. Every day they would visit Granger in the hospital wing before going off to classes or back to Gryffindor Tower. Harry didn’t know why but for some reason, he thought that the two might know something that he doesn’t. That thought irritated the boy to his core. So much so that whenever he wasn’t working on homework or with this friends, Harry stared at the map constantly. For some reason, he always saw the two alone or with another boy named Peter Pettigrew who Harry didn’t know. There are too many Gryffindors to keep track of, he thought with an angry snarl the more he stared at them.

One day, however, it paid off. Harry was watching the map as always, a corridor or two behind the two of them, it was strange, some days Peter Pettigrew was with them while other days, he just stayed at the dormitory or wandered around the castle. He watched an hour ago as the female Weasley go to the girls’ bathroom on the second floor before rushing out and wondered if they actually created the Polyjuice potion in an active bathroom.

The two were with Granger yet again before finally moving on fifteen minutes later. Harry moved to follow them. “Is Lockhart the smarmiest block you’ve ever met, or what?” Weasley said to Longbottom as they left the infirmary and started up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower. There was an angry outburst from the floor above.

“That’s Filch,” Longbottom muttered as they hurried up the stairs and paused, out of sight, listening hard. Harry stopped abruptly and hid as well, keeping a close eye on his map and them. Filch was indeed on the floor above them, outside the girls’ bathroom. The two whispered to each other and Harry had to strain to hear them.

Harry watched on his map as Filch’s dot receded away, and the two Gryffindors poked their heads around the corner.

Filch had clearly been manning his usual lookout post: They were once again on the spot where Mrs. Norris had been attacked. They saw at a glance what Filch had been shouting about. A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor, and it looked as though it was still seeping from under the door of the girls’ bathroom. Harry walked carefully as to not make any sounds as the two Gryffindors loudly made their way into the bathroom. He could hear wails and when he looked inside the bathroom, he saw Longbottom and Weasley talking to a ghost who looked like a student.

“Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it’s funny to throw a book at me!” the ghost yelled.

“But it can’t hurt you if someone throws something at you,” Longbottom said reasonably. “I mean, it’d just go right through you, wouldn’t it?”

He had said the wrong thing, the ghost puffed herself up and shrieked, “Let’s all throw books at Myrtle because she can’t feel it! Ten points if you get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha, ha, ha! What a lovely game, I don’t think!”

Harry looked around as the ghost yelled and found the book she was yelling about lying under a sink. He pocketed his map and stepped towards it, his wet steps echoing through the bathroom. “You!” Ron gasped when the two turned to see Harry.

The Slytherin just smirked and picked up the book. It was a black leathered nondescript book with soggy pages. “All this shouting for this?” He smirked. “Tut, tut boys. Are you practicing a comedy routine? If so, I daresay that it is far from funny.”

“Give that book back,” Longbottom said, “It isn’t yours!”

“And it isn’t yours as well,” Harry said, snickering lightly. He flipped through the pages, pealing the wet pages from each other only to see that it was blank. “All this drama for an empty book, you know you are very melodramatic for a ghost,” he added, glancing at Myrtle. It looked like a diary and turned to the cover. It felt old and the faded year on the cover told Harry that it was fifty years old. On the first page was the first writing he saw, T.M. Riddle.

Master? Harry thought, his heart racing. He hid his emotions and turned to smirk at the three of them.

“Well give it here,” Weasley demanded. “You don’t need it, you slimy git!”

“And yet it seems important,” Harry hummed. “Especially since someone tried to flush it down the pipes. Luckily, it was already clogged with a wailing ghost.” He chuckled and the ghost started to cry loudly once more. Harry shook his head and smirked at them, “Nah, no, it’s clear you boys want this, so I think I’ll have a go at it first. Ta, Gryffindors, you two always save me a lot of trouble.” He laughed and started to walk out.

Weasley and Longbottom pulled their wands out and Harry pivoted on his feet, his own wand whipping as he yelled out, “Expelliarmus!” Weasley’s wand soared into the air, clattering into the water near the flooding toilet. Harry directed his wand towards Longbottom and raised an eyebrow. Longbottom began to swing his wand, but Harry sent another Disarming spell and his wand too fell onto the wet floor.

“So rude, are Fred and George the only lions with manners?” Harry asked, shaking his head as he tsked. “That just wouldn’t do. I hope the next time we meet you might learn that the proper response to thank you is ‘you’re welcome’ and not wands aimed at me.” He pocketed his wand and shook his head once more before leaving. He heard the obvious sounds of their feet smashing against the floor as they tried to chase him, however, Harry simply ducked into a secret passage and he was free.

With the diary still in hand, Harry looked down at it in contemplation. Okay, Master, why do you have a diary here? And what is so important in it that, though empty, someone tried to flush it down the toilet?

Chapter Text

Chapter 26

Riddle’s Diary

It took Harry the rest of the day to dry the diary in his dormitory. He did not tell his friends about the diary. He just went into the dormitory and closed the door without comment. He knew that he should write to Tom about this, however, he couldn’t help but feel giddy about having the diary. He was holding something that was his Master’s! It had to be! It had his name and everything—but why was it empty? Surely it would be full of Tom’s hopes and dreams for the future, or even just memories of him and Adrian. But as Harry flipped through the diary, all that met him was empty pages upon empty pages. Why is there nothing? Harry thought, but then maybe it could help him.

Maybe his Master brought the diary but forgotten to use it? Or never gotten around to it. If so, then maybe Harry can use it? A similar incident was happening now, and though Harry wasn’t the one controlling the Basilisk, maybe if he used Tom’s diary, it would help him organize his thoughts. It wouldn’t hurt, in fact, if Harry can just lay out the details in front of him so he could see it. Maybe having a visual aid would help Harry out and see where everything leads.

So with this in mind, He went to his bag and searched around for a quill and bottle of ink. He thought for a moment about what to write first. Maybe his name? But wouldn’t that be redundant? No, the first he should write is about the attacks. He nodded and started to write.

There have been three attacks. Mrs. Norris who saw the Basilisk’s gaze through the water, Colin Creevey who saw the basilisk through his camera, and Justin Finch-Fletchey who saw it through the Gryffindor Ghost. How is the basilisk moving? And how is the imposter controlling my creature?

Harry paused and hummed in thought, tapping the end of his quill to his chin. Then, something amazing happened. His writing disappeared! The page looked as though it has never been written in before. And then words started to bleed out, different words in different handwriting that weren’t Harry’s.

“Your monster? Who are you and how do you know about Slytherin’s monster?”

Harry blinked. He stared at the words for a moment and dipped his quill to answer. Who are you?

“I am Tom Riddle, how did you come to my diary?”

Harry gave out a gasp. His heart raced and his cheeks flushed. Tom! It was Tom! His Tom! But somehow in a dairy? He couldn’t understand. His hands were shaking excitedly as he wrote his reply as Tom’s words disappeared.

Tom! Master, how are you in the diary? Why aren’t you in Durmstrang? It’s me! Harry Potter!

“Harry Potter? You call me your master? Interesting, but that does not explain how you have found my diary or if you are even being truthful.”

But I am being truthful! Harry wrote back quickly. You’re my master! You saved me! I helped get your body back and you even told me about Adrian! And, and, I’m your future husband. I found your diary trying to be flushed down a toilet.

Harry watched his words fade away and he began tapping his foot nervously for the diary’s reply. How did his Master get in the diary? Is this even his full master? Or maybe a part of him? Like how Harry always holds a part of his master?

“I see, you are becoming much more interesting Harry Potter. It is lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink. As I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read.”

Harry gasped. A memory from last year rose to the surface. He and his Master were in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and it was their first meeting since they separated during the summer. Harry’s hand trembled with anticipation, but he forced himself to write the words clearly and slowly, his heart jumping to his throat as he did so.

You’re a Horcrux just like me, aren’t you?

His words stared at him as though resisting to be absorbed, but soon enough they did seep into the page. Harry held his breath for the diary’s reply. The words appeared slowly as though the diary was debating on its reply.

“I see. So it is possible after all. I assume that we are still in Hogwarts and that the previous owner did not travel far to dispose of the diary.”

Yes, we’re still in Hogwarts, I’m a second-year student and in Slytherin like Master—uhh you.

“You and I are the same Harry; we are all part of Lord Voldemort’s soul. Though you are special, for you seem to hold onto your piece and your own soul as well. I did not even begin to imagine it to be possible,” the diary wrote, the words keep appearing and Harry reading them greedily. “You have your own personality, your own character, and aspirations. So Harry, if I can ask Horcrux to Horcrux, what are your dreams?”

Harry thought for a moment before smirking. I’ll tell you everything if you tell me who opened the Chamber of Secrets.

“Of course Harry, I expect nothing else from a fellow Slytherin and Horcrux. The person who last owned me was a meddlesome girl named Ginny Weasley, and she had such a crush on you. Harry Potter the ‘Bad-Boy From Slytherin” she would call you. It was disgusting. But she was useful, and I would act the kind and gentle friend she needed. The girl poured her soul into me, and as she did my control over her grew. Of course, she didn’t know what she was doing at first. It was amusing. ‘I think I’m losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don’t know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can’t remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked, and I’ve got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I’m pale and I’m not myself. I think he suspects me. … There was another attack today and I don’t know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I’m going mad … I think I’m the one attacking everyone, Tom!”

Harry frowned at this, so it was Ginny who was soiling his name. But Ginny wasn’t being herself, she was being used. Still, at the end of the day there needed to be someone to blame. He could still use this. He tapped the diary as the words disappeared and replied, Why are you even attacking the school? Master told me to find the culprit who was using our name and stop them.

“Stop the attacks? I wonder why I would ever instruct you to do that. But you should know, Harry, the damage that muggleborns have done to our beautiful culture and heritage. Why wouldn’t I want to eradicate them all?”

Muggles are awful, but I don’t think Master, or you want to kill them all. That would just do nothing, right? The main problem is the muggleborns and the Light keep blaming everything on us Dark Wizards. We need to fix that and show them how they are wrong. I don’t think senseless killing will do that.

“It is funny, how much you sound like Adrian right now. But you are right, the attacks are a message to the light and a means for me to regain my body.”

Harry blushed when Tom compared him to Adrian. He always wanted to know more about the other boy, wanted to live up to his name. They were both Voldemort’s husbands and Harry wanted to make sure that he would be able to fill in Adrian’s shoes while also outshining him. Can you tell me more about Adrian, please Tom? Master always does but he always seems sad whenever he talks about him.

“Better yet, I will show you, and it will make talking to you easier.”

The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping halfway through the month of June. Mouth hanging open, Harry saw that the little square for June tenth seemed to have turned into a minuscule television screen. His hands trembling slightly, he raised the book to press his eye against the little window, and before he knew what was happening, he was tilting forward; the window was widening, he felt his body leave his seat, and he was pitched headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirl of color and shadow.

He felt his feet hit solid ground, and stood, shaking, as the blurred shapes around him came suddenly into focus.

He knew immediately where he was. The sloping green fields around him surrounded Hogwarts, with trees littering around and offering shade for the students on this beautiful sunny day. Two boys were laying in the shade of a nearby tree. They were just wearing a white button-up shirt and black slacks. Harry’s face turned red when he saw the handsome figures of Tom Riddle, giving what Harry knew was a rare smile, smiles that he would normally only give to Harry, to the boy lying next to him. The boy was in a word beautiful. His hair was on the long side and was so lightly blonde that Harry almost mistaken it for white. His eyes were green like Harry’s, and he had a small, upturned nose and a big grin on his face as he held Tom’s hand in the shade. He’s so beautiful, Harry thought and he couldn’t help but compare himself to Adrian. He was just short with sloppy black hair, looking too much like a little kid who slept too much whereas Adrian just had a natural grace that Harry envied. I want to be like him.

“Tom!” Harry snapped out of his thoughts with Adrian’s voice. It was light and delicate. “Have you been listening to me?”

“I’m sorry my little snake, I have not,” Tom Riddle replied, his voice sounding just the same as it did in Harry’s time. “I was too busy thinking about how beautiful your eyes are, just like shining emeralds.”

“Tom,” Adrian blushed. He sat up slightly and looked around hesitantly. Seeing nobody he ducked his head and gave Tom a quick kiss. Harry felt extremely angry all of a sudden but stayed quiet. Adrian started to pull back, but Tom grabbed the back of his head, pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

“There is no one around us, my little snake, there is no need to be so shy,” Tom purred.

“I know, but it’s just too risky,” Adrian sighed. He frowned and Harry couldn’t believe at how alive Adrian looked. He was healthy-looking, all filled out, and didn’t have twiggy limbs like Harry had. It was almost impossible for Harry to imagine that Adrian was a frail boy, or that he would die in two years.

“I know my love, but we just have one more year to get through,” Tom sighed. “One more year, then we will never have to hide. We can get a small house in the countryside, it doesn’t matter where exactly, we can apparate to our work and change the world and every day we would come home to a place where we can love each other openly.”

“I can’t wait,” Adrian smiled. “We would never have to deal with my father again—and we can even take the basilisk with us. Maybe she’ll like it better in the open instead of the dark and damp chamber?”

“That would be up to her, my little one,” Tom chuckled. He propped himself up to his elbows and smiled at Adrian.

“I would like it,” Adrian continued. “Just us, with nobody to bother.” He sat up and leaned forward so he could reach into his back pocket. “Tom?”

“Yes?” Tom said, sitting up as well.

Adrian swallowed and licked his lips nervously. “I want to give you something, may I?”

“Of course,” Tom nodded.

“Can you give me your hand?” Adrian asked, holding out for Tom’s hand. The future Dark Lord gave his love his hand and from his back pocket, Adrian pulled out two simple silver bands. “These are just promise rings,” Adrian said as he held one at the tip of Tom’s ring finger. “It’s my promise to always love you. And a promise that in a just world, we’ll get married. So, until you make it, we’ll always have this ring to remember.”

Tom smirked and stared into Adrian’s eyes. “I do.”

Adrian slid the ring onto Tom’s finger and Tom took the other one. He held Adrian’s hand and said, “I promise to love and care for you, my little snake. I will burn away the atrocities of this world, and leave it holding only the beautiful so that you and I can be together, forever.” He slid the ring on Adrian’s finger.

Harry’s cheeks felt wet, and he found himself crying as he rubbed his eyes fiercely. He felt arms circle around him and blinked as he looked up. “Master?” he whispered, looking into the handsome face of Tom Riddle.

“Close, my fellow Horcrux,” the diary Tom said. Harry held onto him and continued to cry. “Why are you crying? Are you jealous?” Tom smirked.

“Yeah, and I feel bad for it,” Harry said bitterly. “Because I know it’s wrong.”

“Oh? And why is it wrong?” the diary asked, amused.

“Because I’m jealous of a dead person,” Harry said. “I know we’re both your little snakes but when I see how you treat him compared to how I’m treated… I never really kissed you yet.”

“Dead?” Tom whispered shortly. “Adrian is dead?” His grip on Harry tightened. “You will tell me,” he ordered, his voice going colder. “Tell me, Harry Potter! How did my Adrian die?”

Harry winced, “Tom, you’re hurting me,” he whined as Tom’s grip grew tighter.

“Tell me!”

“He was sick!” Harry screamed. “He was sick, and he died after his dad took him away from you! Please, Tom, I’m hurting.”

The diary’s grip loosened, and Harry almost fell as Tom stepped away. “No, no you’re lying,” he said. “My Adrian should not be dead—he shouldn’t be. We know he was weak but—no.”

“Tom,” Harry said softly, “I’m sorry.”

Riddle turned to Harry and Harry flinched at the coldness in his eyes. “Leave me!” he commanded, and Harry felt himself falling hard, and before he knew it, he was laying on the floor in the Slytherin dormitory.

He laid there, breathing heavily as he tried to control the shaking. The door opened and Theo walked in. “Harry! Are you okay? We were looking for you?” The small boy ran to Harry and helped him up. “Where were you?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Harry gasped. “I’m just, just tired. I think I’ll go to sleep now. I’m sorry.”

Harry did not tell his friends about the diary, instead choosing to keep it hidden inside his pillow. The next day, Harry wrote to his master the first chance he could, telling him everything that happened about how he found out about the diary, got it before Weasley and Longbottom could, and then every detail that transpired inside the diary. He held nothing back and his heart felt heavier for it as he watched Hedwig fly away with it.

It was not until February 14^th when Hedwig returned. Harry has overheard Professor Lockhart talking to Professor McGonagall about giving the school a morale booster, and it wasn’t until Harry stepped into the Great Hall that he saw what Lockhart had meant.

The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. Lockhart was at the teacher’s table wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations and was waving for silence. “Happy Valentine’s Day!” Lockhart shouted. “And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all—and it doesn’t end here!”

Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs that Lockhart had dressed with golden wings and carrying harps. “My friendly, card-carrying cupids!” Lockhart beamed.

Harry groaned, “Is he serious?” he whispered as Lockhart continued to talk, saying something that made Professor Snape look absolutely murderous.

“By the dark, I think he is,” Blaise frowned. “I hope no one even thinks of using those dwarves to give me a card.”

“Same,” Draco muttered. Harry and the others nodded along just as the morning post arrived. Harry looked up relieved to see his white owl flying straight towards him. Hedwig held out her leg and Harry took the letter and fed Hedwig a treat, whispering, “Next time I’ll get you and Salazar a nice mouse.”

Hedwig seemed to like the idea as she rubbed her head affectionately against Harry’s hand as he petted her. As she flew off, Harry opened the letter.

My little snake,

It seems that you have a knack for not only doing what is asked but going beyond as well. To think that the culprit is actually one of my Horcruxes possessing the youngest Weasley. This is troubling, I will have to personally look at the others and make sure that they are still safe. We must be careful with how you move forward, Harry. The fact that Ginny Weasley tried to destroy the diary means that she must have some idea about its power. Not that it is a Horcrux but that it can control people. But to think that it was trying to resurrect itself, why it is truly amazing to think about. Does the Horcrux by its nature of self-sustainment always seek resurrection or is it because half of my soul is in it? I must look into this. Keep the diary close to you Harry, try to learn all you can from it. If it refuses, make it understand that you are our little snake. I will look into the diary during the summer. If prudent, I might absorb its power and piece of soul back into me. That would hopefully accelerate our plans.

Be careful when dealing with the diary, it is designed to drain the soul and life from anyone who uses it. However, Harry, you already belong to me. You. Are. Mine. My apprentice. My little snake. The intelligent and handsome boy whose mission is to woo the Dark Lord. Make the diary understand that, and you will be protected. Now, I want you to go down into the Chamber of Secrets and gain control of the Basilisk once more. Use whatever means necessary and use her at your discretion, as long as you ask me for permission beforehand. I do not want you to remain a suspect in this matter. If the attacks stop, then perhaps the accusations will as well. If not, then you already have the perfect scapegoat. Do not disappoint me my little snake.

Yours,

Tom Marvolo Riddle

Chapter Text

Chapter 27

To Control a Basilisk

Harry found himself taking after Blaise. He immediately spent more time in the library, looking at any and every book on magical creatures that he could find. Valentine’s Day quickly flew by, Harry successfully avoiding a grim-looking dwarf looking for him, and soon the other days passed as well. In between all of his usual responsibilities, including helping Slytherin’s Quidditch continue to being undefeatable, Harry’s new research made the boy feel extremely pressured. He didn’t know if he could keep up with it all, and when March started to come in, he felt like he was at a breaking point.

It was rather embarrassing. They were all in the common room doing homework and in the middle of writing an essay for McGonagall, Harry’s quill snapped, and he started to cry. “Harry!” Daphne gasped. “What happened?”

“Too much,” Harry whimpered, “it’s too much. Master wants too much.” He continued to cry, and Draco and Blaise immediately moved to sit right beside him. Harry leaned towards Draco as the two boys wrapped themselves around him.

The older years all glanced curiously at the second year but then looked away politely when they saw Harry crying. “What’s too much?” Daphne asked gently. “What does he want you to do?”

Harry sniffled and shook his head. “School, Quidditch, making sure those damn Gryffindors don’t get me in trouble—everything!” He took a breath and felt a weight on his lap. Salazar slithered on his lap looking up at him. Harry petted him quietly and sniffled. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t apologize, Harry,” Draco murmured. “Just tell us how we can help.”

Harry took a while to calm his tears. He felt weak and hated it. His master believed in him and yet here he was just crying over everything that he had to do. Get good grades, win the Quidditch cup, keep up with his friends and studies, and on top of all that make sure that he doesn’t get in trouble because of the Golden Trio and learn more about the basilisk in order to take control of it again. All along with interrogating the diary, which he hasn’t talk to since the first time, it was all very stressful for the young twelve-year-old. His skin started to feel uncomfortable. He started to rub his arms and neck compulsively and shivered. “Cold,” he muttered. “Too cold.”

A blanket soon fell on him, covering him and Salazar who hissed angrily, and he looked up to see Crabbe standing silently in front of him. He just nodded and moved back to his seat as Harry helped Salazar from under the knitted blanket. “Tell us what he wants you to do Harry, please,” Pansy whispered. “We want to help.”

Harry sniffled and took a deep breath. “I need to find out about basilisks, that’s what’s in the chamber of secrets, and I need to go down and take control of it again before it starts acting on its own.”

“Then we’ll help you research,” Blaise said automatically. “What have you found so far?”

“Next to nothing,” Harry said miserably.

“Well, we’ll help,” Theo said, “I think I have a book that’ll give us something to start.” He stood up and went up to the dorms, coming back a second later with a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. “We normally won’t be using this till next year, and that’s even if we take Care of Magical Creatures, but the book looked interesting to me,” Theo shrugged. “Here.”

He opened the book and gave it to Harry to read.

BASILISK

(Also known as the King of Serpents)

M.O.M. Classification XXXXX

The first recorded Basilisk was bred by Herpo the Foul, a Greek Dark wizard and Parselmouth, who discovered after much experimentation that a chicken egg hatched beneath a toad would produce a gigantic serpent possessed of extraordinary dangerous powers.

The Basilisk is a brilliant green serpent that is said to reach up to fifty feet in length (although there are many contrary reports sighting Basilisks to be at most only eleven feet). The male has a scarlet plume upon its head. It has exceptionally venomous fangs but its most dangerous means of attack is the gaze of its large yellow eyes. Anyone looking directly into these will suffer instant death.

If the food source is sufficient (the Basilisk will eat all mammals and birds and most reptiles), the serpent may attain a very great age. Herpo the Foul’s Basilisk is believed to have lived for close to nine hundred years.

The creation of Basilisks has been illegal since medieval times, although the practice is easily concealed by simply removing the chicken egg from beneath the toad when the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures comes to call. However, since Basilisks are uncontrollable except by Parselmouths, they are as dangerous to most Dark wizards as to anybody else, and there have been no recorded sightings of Basilisks in Britain for at least four hundred years.

Harry finished reading and frowned slightly, “It's a bit of a help,” he muttered, “however Master already told me most of this.” He looked at the book again and sighed, his frown turning into a small genuine smile, “Thank you, Theo.”

“I’m sorry that it’s already stuff you know but it was the first thing that popped into my mind,” Theo said, shrugging. “I’m sure that we will be able to find out more about basilisks. I only hope that this one is one of the commonly smaller ones.”

“Same here,” Harry nodded. “I do not even want to even think about trying to convince a fifty-foot snake to stop petrifying people.”

“What about the imposter?” Draco asked. “Do you know who he is?”

Harry hummed and nodded, “I do, but I’m going to need Master’s permission,” he said. “After all, only Master and I can speak Parseltongue, so this information might be something that Master doesn’t want out.”

“Okay, we understand that,” Blaise nodded knowingly. “So all we need to focus on is just finding out about Basilisks, right? Seems easy enough.”

So, the small group of Slytherins took to meeting in the library almost every day reading any book about magical creatures they could find to hopefully find more about the king of serpents. It was mentioned every now and again in short paragraphs, a mention about how it was a Dark Creature, a reference to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and small bits of new information that are contrary and debatable.

They’ve discovered that roosters’ crows are deadly to it, and spiders naturally feared them for some reason. Harry decided to purchase a diary of his own, a black one just like Tom’s and he used it to write down what they have learned. Strange enough, Harry saw that Granger was spending almost all her free time alone in the library as well, and she kept pulling out books about magical creatures like them. He worried, briefly, that she was close to figuring out who the monster is but pushed it to the back of his mind when he saw that none of the books mentioned Basilisks in great detail or at all. Before the group of Slytherins knew it, February was over, and the Easter holidays were upon them with a new set of problems they needed to worry about. It was time for the second years to choose their subjects for the third year, a matter that Blaise took very seriously.

“I know that researching the Basilisk is important, but we need to think beyond that,” he said passionately. “This can affect our whole future!”

“Father wants me to take up Ancient Runes,” Draco said, his face scrunching up at the thought of it. “Honestly, it sounds terrible. But he insists because it is what he and grandfather took.”

“What about your mother?” Harry asked politely.

“Care of Magical Creatures, funnily enough, she has what she would call fond memories of its teacher, Professor Silvanus Kettleburn,” Draco said.

“He’s the professor with that mechanical arm right?” Pansy asked.

“Yeah, he looks awesome! I definitely want to be taught by him,” Blaise grinned, and he quickly placed a check next to Care of Magical Creatures.

“Daphne and I already decided on Ancient Runes,” Theo said in a small voice, his cheeks growing a little red as he glanced at Daphne who nodded.

“What even is Ancient Runes about?” Pansy asked, flipping through the list with a bored expression.

“We study runes,” Theo said as though it was obvious.

“It’ll help us break down spells to figure out how exactly they work, and hopefully will allow us to make new spells as well,” Daphne said, smiling widely. “It sounds all really interesting.”

“Well maybe you can make a spell that’ll help you find clothes that fit you,” Pansy said, “honestly Daphne, why are you wearing such baggy clothing?”

Daphne looked down and her cheeks turned red. “Oh, well, uh—I just feel comfortable in them,” she said.

“Well whatever—Draco, how about you and I take Divination,” Pansy said, giving the blonde a smile, “We can see what our future holds together.”

Draco stared at her and turned his nose, “I hope in your case the stars only point out the word friend is a big bold font so you can read it.”

Pansy gasped, “Draco! Surely you don’t mean it!” She leaned forward and smiled at him, “Anyone can see there’s something between us.”

“It’s called a table and homework, now please Pansy be quiet,” Draco said dismissively as he looked down at the list. Harry frowned when he saw Pansy looking a little hurt.

“Pansy?” he said in an innocent voice, “if you want, I can take Divination with you.”

Pansy blinked at Harry and grinned, “Alright, Harry,” she said. “See Draco, Harry here is a proper gentleman. He doesn’t leave a proper lady to suffer in a class by herself.”

“I’ll join you too,” Blaise grinned, “I was thinking of taking it as well, seemed like an easy class and a laugh.”

Draco looked up immediately at that. “I’m taking it too,” he blurted out.

Pansy turned to glare at him, “What!? Oh, I get it! Now that Blaise and Harry are in, now you want to take the class! I see how it is.”

“N-No, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Draco stuttered. “I just can’t trust Harry and Blaise by themselves, that’s all.”

“Um, I’m going to be there numbskull,” Pansy pointed out.

“That’s even worse,” Draco said. He seemed to realize what he said a second later and gasped, “I mean—”

“I know what you mean Malfoy,” Pansy said angrily. She stood up as if she were going to pull her wand out but stopped. She looked between the three boys and smiled innocently. “Harry, can you do me a big favor?” she asked. “I can only trust you because you’re taken.”

“I’m taken?” Harry repeated but nodded. He stood up and Pansy took his arm lightly, pulling him away from the others. She pulled a small bottle out and said, “Just a little gift from your Weasley friends. Can you do me a favor and add it to Draco’s shampoo?”

“Does it do what I think it does?” Harry asked already taking the bottle. Pansy just gave a long smile which Harry returned. He quickly ran upstairs and poured it into Draco’s shampoo, shaking the mixture together before returning.

“What did you do?” Draco immediately asked.

“Nothing, I just wanted to check something in my trunk,” Harry hummed. “I’m going low on treats for Salazar. Anyway, I think I’ll take uhh Care of Magical Creatures along with Divination.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same,” Blaise grinned, followed by most of the others, including Crabbe and Goyle.

With their new classes decided, and the group learning what they believed to be everything they could from the books in Hogwarts about the King of Serpents, Harry finally thought that it was time to deal with the Chamber of Secrets.

It was almost a week after their schedule-making and Harry sat with the Diary on a late Saturday afternoon in his dormitory. Hello, Tom, he wrote, the ink disappearing on the page.

“Harry Potter, it has been a long time. You have slept with my diary, but it has been so long since you’ve talked to me, your master missed you.” The diary replied.

Are you still mad at me? About Adrian?

“No, I am not Harry,” the diary replied. “I apologize for my behavior, little Horcrux. It was shocking, to say the least.”

Harry stared at the words as they disappeared, a small smile appearing. It made him feel relieved knowing that the diary wasn’t angry at him. I’m sorry, he wrote. But I need your help. You need to bring me to the Chamber of Secrets. Master wants me to take control of the basilisk.

“Is that all? A simple request, little Horcrux. The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is easy, all you need to do is go to the second-floor girls’ lavatory. There you will find a sink with a snake etched onto it. Speak and it will open to the heir. Afterward, you will journey down and through the tunnel into the Chamber of Secrets itself. There the Basilisk will wait, inside a statue of Salazar Slytherin. Simply speak ‘Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.’ It will come.”

Harry read the instructions quickly, memorizing as much as he could. He dipped his quill when the words fully faded and replied, Thank you, Tom! You don’t need to worry; I’ll take care of the basilisk and Master. I know that it might sound strange, but I really love Master. I want to make him happy, like how Adrian made you happy.

“Go complete your duty. We will discuss that later on,” the diary replied and wrote no more. Harry nodded and took a deep breath. He was going to finish it today.

He walked around the dormitory to make sure that he had everything he needed. He triple-checked to make sure he had his wand as well as his own diary. He took the pages he wrote on, about six or seven, and gently pulled them out, using his wand to clean up the scraps to make it look as if the pages were never there. Then, he pocketed his own diary and stretched. He could have just left the Basilisk there; however, he was afraid that it might grow used to its freedom and try to escape even without orders. And if the basilisk were to kill a student this time, Harry did not want to even think about how that would affect Hogwarts, or worse his education. So he decided to deal with the Basilisk now. Maybe make it docile and, if small enough, sneak it out so it can take over some area and enjoy its freedom.

Harry left the dormitory to see his friends all gathered around their usual spot. He stepped up to them and bit his lower lip as he went to them and silently hugged them one by one. They looked confused, but hugged him nevertheless, Pansy looking smug as Harry hugged her before Blaise and Draco.

“Harry are you okay? What’s with the hugs?” Daphne asked.

“I’m going down to talk to the basilisk,” Harry said. “I just wanted to hug you guys for good luck.”

“Oh.”

“How do you feel?” Pansy asked. “We can go with you.”

“I’m very nervous, but no. I have to do this alone. It’s Heir business, eh?” Harry smiled. “But after tonight, you can all just tell them that I am the Heir of Slytherin. I’m sure Flint and Higgs would love that.” He gave a nervous chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. His heart was pounding but he did his best to look as calm as possible.

Draco and Blaise pulled him into another hug, sandwiching him between them. “Don’t you dare get hurt, Potter. You hear me?” Draco grumbled.

“And don’t do anything Gryffindorish,” Blaise said.

“I promise I won’t,” Harry said. He looked at all of his friends and gave a smile, “Come on, I’m the Dark Lord’s husband,” he said with as much bravado he can muster. “I can handle a little snake.”

They all shared a nervous laugh and Harry waved to his friends, leaving the dungeon.

Getting to the second floor was easy enough. It was early evening by now, and most students were either outside, in the library, or in their common rooms. Harry did not run into a soul as he climbed the stairs to the second floor, and the corridors were equally as empty as he walked down the corridors. He soon found himself in the place where it all started, the corridor where Mrs. Norris was attacked. There was no water this time, and when Harry stepped into the girls’ bathroom, he was relieved to see that the ghost was gone too.

“Sink with a snake on it,” he muttered to himself. Harry walked towards the sinks and started to examine them one by one. They all looked like regular normal sinks. He turned on the faucets to see that they all still worked. He bent down by the sixth sink he was looking at when a voice yelled out, “We got you, Potter!”

Harry turned to see nothing. Then, out of thin air, Ron and Neville appeared, a cloak falling on the ground next to them. Ron looked at Harry with a smug victorious face while Neville just glared. “What are you doing?” Harry sighed, “I don’t have time for this.” He turned back to the sink and smirked when his fingers felt something different. He looked slightly over to see that his fingers were brushing against a carving of a snake.

“You’re the Heir of Slytherin!” Ron yelled. “You’re going to go and get that monster to kill us!”

“Weasley, you’re so stupid I fear for Longbottom’s intelligence,” Harry sighed. He stood fully and turned only to see that now both Gryffindors have their wands trained on him. He raised an eyebrow, “What are you two going to do?” he asked. “If I really am the Heir of Slytherin, I could have the monster just spring up and kill you both right now. But I’m not, and I am going to go do something productive now.”

“Like what?” Neville demanded.

Harry looked between Neville and the sink. He hissed out in Parseltongue, “Open.” The sink began to move, in fact, it sank, right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into. “I’m going to go down and talk with the monster and make it stop.”

“Talk to the monster?” Longbottom repeated, confused.

“Yes, Longbottom. Slytherin. Our crest is a snake? Slytherin can talk to snakes so of course, his monster is going to be a snake. And I can talk to snakes,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“Because you’re the Heir of Slytherin you nasty filthy traitor!” Ron yelled.

Harry sighed, “Look I don’t have time for this,” he said, sounding irritated. “How many times do I have to say that I am not the Heir of Slytherin?”

“Then why are you going down that hole? Better yet how do you even know about it?” Ron demanded.

“Deductive reasoning,” Harry said dryly. “Look, do you want the monster dealt with or not? Would you like the school to possibly close?”

“Hogwarts is going to close?” Neville asked.

“No, but I am not going to sit around and just wait for another attack,” Harry said. “Or were you two just going to wait for Granger to figure all of this out?” He raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Don’t what me, Longbottom, I’ve seen her in the library,” Harry said. “Was the idea really have Granger do all the heavy lifting while the two of you spy on me?”

“N-No!” Ron stuttered.

“Then why are you two even here?” Harry demanded. “What? Were you two just prancing around under that cloak and spotted me and thought ‘hmm let’s go bother Potter.’”

“No that’s not it at all!” Ron shouted. He stomped towards Harry, never lowering his wand. “You’re just stalling for time! Admit it, Potter! You’re the Heir of Slytherin! You got that monster to attack Colin and Justin! It was all you!”

Harry smirked, “No Ronald, it was all Ginny.”

Ron’s face turned red and the next second Harry’s vision was blocked by Ron’s fist as he punched him. Harry stumbled back and had to hold onto a sink before he fell down the pipe. White flash around him for a moment before his vision returned and Ron was holding his robes. “Take that back!” he yelled out.

“What? The truth?” Harry laughed. “It was all Ginny. Always was from the beginning.”

“You’re lying!” Ron yelled and he pulled Harry away from the sink.

“No, I’m not,” Harry said fiercely. “Why would I even lie to you, Weasley? I don’t have the energy.”

Ron growled out and Harry glanced at the entrance. “Look, the truth is down there—Ginny Weasley sent the monster out. And I am going to go down there to fix her mistakes. Now let go.”

Ron’s face turned even redder, and he yelled as he pushed Harry, the Slytherin stumbling back but staying upright. He fixed his robes and looked at the three of them. “We can just go to Dumbledore!” Neville suggested. “He’ll believe us, and Potter’ll get in trouble.”

“And the monster will still be here gobbling up children, great plan Longbottom,” Harry said. “I know you Gryffindors, you’re not going to leave me alone so all that’s left is to just pull you along and make sure you don’t get hurt.” He pointed a finger towards the entrance. “So into the hole. Longbottom first.”

“No, you first,” Ron said.

“So you two can go and run to Dumbledore? Please, I’m not stupid like you,” Harry said. “God it’s amazing that Fred and George are even related to you—they’ve got all the brains it seems, and looks,” he sneered at Ron as he slowly made his way to the entrance.

“Don’t speak to me like that,” Ron said, “That’s poof talk!” he took a step towards Harry, but Harry quickly sidestepped him, and Ron was quickly running towards the hole. With a gentle nudge from Harry, Ron fell into the hole, disappearing into the darkness.

“Ron!” Neville yelled as they hear him scream in the entrance. The scream turned faint, followed by a loud “OW!” Harry glanced at Neville expectantly.

“Well after you,” he said.

Neville looked at the hole and swallowed. “You better be right behind me or else,” he warned, and he slid down the hole.

“By the Dark, why do I have to be stuck with these two?” Harry muttered before he jumped down the entrance. It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. He could see more pipes branching off in all directions, but none as large as theirs, which twisted and turned, slopping steeply downward, and he knew that he was falling deeper below the school than even the dungeons. Ahead of him, he could hear Longbottom thudding slightly at the curves.

And then, just as he had begun to worry about what would happen when he hit the ground, the pipe leveled out, and he shot out of the end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel large enough to stand in. Ron and Neville were getting to their feet a little ways away, covered in slime. Harry stood and looked around.

“We must be miles under the school,” he commented, his voice echoing in the black tunnel.

“You pushed me you git!” Ron yelled.

“Well, we’ll deal with that later.” Harry shrugged. He flicked his hand and several orbs of fire appeared, illuminating the room. There were small bones of rats and other animals scattered around everywhere, and only one tunnel to go down. Harry walked towards it and turned to see the two Gryffindors, “Come on boys,” he said. “I want this over with.”

And the three set off.

Chapter Text

Chapter 28

The King of Serpents

Harry was all too aware of the two wands pointed at him as they walked down the tunnel. The tunnel was so dark that even with Harry’s fire, they could barely see ahead. Their shadows on the wet walls looked monstrous in the light.

“Look, any movement at all, close your eyes right away,” Harry whispered.

“Why would we believe you?” Ron said loudly.

“Then die, see if I care,” Harry whispered. “A Basilisk is down here! I hope you at least know something about those.”

Neville swallowed loudly. “They—they can kill with their eyes,” he said, his skin turning pale.

“Exactly Longbottom,” Harry nodded. “So. Movement equals eyes shut, understand?”

Longbottom gave a whimper but nodded. Ron just glared at Harry for a second longer before giving a short nod. But the tunnel was quiet as a grave, and the first unexpected sound they heard was a loud crunch as Ron stepped on what turned out to be a rat’s skull. Harry led the way forward, around a dark bend in the tunnel.

“What’s that?” Longbottom said suddenly.

They froze, watching. Harry could just see the outline of something huge and curved, lying right across the tunnel. It wasn’t moving. Please tell me the basilisk isn’t a rare huge one, he thought mentally. He looked at Weasley and Longbottom and raised an eyebrow. “Well,” he whispered. “One of you go check it out. It looks asleep.”

“Hell no!” Ron whispered back. “You go you slimy Slytherin!”

“I thought you Gryffindors were supposed to be brave,” Harry sneered. “Longbottom, go.”

Surprisingly, Longbottom did. He took several slow steps forward, his wand pointed at the outline, his faint wandlight offering little help as he moved away from the other two. He held his wand up high.

The light slid over a gigantic snakeskin, of a vivid, poisonous green, lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor. The creature that had shed it must have been twenty feet long at least.

“Blimey,” Ron said weakly.

“Of course,” Harry groaned softly. “Why wouldn’t it be the gigantic one.” He stepped towards the snakeskin to examine it more closely. “Little lesson for you lions, so listen up. From my research, the basilisk can be either of two sizes. The first is the size of a regular snake, that is what is most normal. However, much rarer, is what we’re dealing with now with a snake being too big for its own good.”

“So-so you’re going to feed us to this gigantic snake! That’s what you’re planning!” Ron yelled out, his voice echoing in the tunnel.

“No Weasley, though I have a feeling no matter how many times I repeat myself, neither of you would be convinced,” Harry sighed. “I wonder how much basilisk skin would be sold for,” he muttered to himself but shook the thought away.

He stood up and looked down the tunnel that went on further still. He started on again past the giant snakeskin.

“Potter when you say giant,” Longbottom started.

“I mean that this snake is probably taller than Weasley’s house,” Harry said casually. “No offense, of course. But the plan doesn’t change the two of you shut up, keep your eyes closed, and I will deal with it.”

“Yeah I’ll bet,” Ron muttered darkly. Harry glanced back to see the two Gryffindors walking close by each other, whispering under their breath. Harry couldn’t help but wonder what they were muttering about. Probably ways they could beat him and the basilisk if need to, or perhaps how they’ll stun him after everything is done with and try to take all the credit. He wouldn’t put it past the Light.

The tunnel turned and turned again, and Harry found himself feeling nervous as he both wanted the tunnel to end yet dreaded what he’ll find when it did. And then, at last, as they crept around yet another bend, Harry saw a solid wall ahead on which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with green, glinting emeralds. He stopped for a moment and turned to the two Gryffindor boys who appeared a little breathless.

“Now what?” Ron demanded.

Harry turned from them to the door and hissed, “Open.” The serpents parted as the wall cracked open, the halves slid smoothly out of sight, and Harry turned once more to look at Weasley and Longbottom. “Now we go inside,” he said simply, and he walked inside.

The three were standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place.

Behind him, Weasley sneered, “You Slytherins and your slimy snakes.”

“I’m certain that Gryffindor is just as obnoxious with their animal,” Harry said. “I can just envision Gryffindor Tower: Reds and golds everywhere with not a hint of any other color and lions adorning almost everything, including maybe even the throw pillow.”

“At least it’s better than your dark dungeons under the lake!” Ron shouted back.

“How did you know that our common room is under the lake?” Harry hummed innocently. Weasley sputtered at a loss of words and Harry chuckled. “Our duty is almost done boys, just listen to the nice Slytherin and everything will be dandy.”

“Be ready to stun him the moment he tries to hurt us,” Ron muttered a little too loudly. Harry pretended not to hear it as they walked forward, their footsteps echoing loudly off the shadowy walls.

As they drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall. Harry had to crane his neck to look up into the giant face above: It was ancient and monkeyish with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard’s sweeping stone robes, where two enormous gray feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor.

“Salazar Slytherin,” Harry guessed. “I will admit, this is rather egotistic and, what’s the word?”

“Ugly,” Ron sneered.

“No,” Harry hummed. He thought for a moment. “Tacky. Egotistic and tacky,” he settled on.

“Where’s the basilisk? I don’t see it,” Neville said, looking around as he spun on his spot slowly.

“I need to summon it, it won’t come until it is called,” Harry said. “So for the moment, we are perfectly safe.”

“Ha! No such thing as being safe with a Slytherin!” Ron yelled.

Harry let out a frustrated growl and turned to Ron. “What is your problem!?” He demanded. “Honestly, what the hell have I ever done to you that just cause you to act like such a—such a—such an asshole!”

Longbottom gasped while Ron Weasley just sneered at him. “You really want to know? Gee let me think, how about everything? You bully me and Neville and everyone you can even think of, you’re doing something weird with my brothers, and not to mention the normal slimy stuff you Slytherins normally do!”

“Oh that’s perfect—always perfect,” Harry exclaimed, giving a loud fake laugh, “Everything just has to go back to Slytherin, huh? Slytherin’s the evil ones! Slytherin’s the bad ones! Watch out—oh no Potter’s a Slytherin he’s going to be the next Dark Lord—well how about this you idiot, I am only twelve years old! I don’t know what I want to even have for breakfast let alone what I want to do with my life! Do you think I like being here? That I like sticking my neck out for all those dirty students who always glare and spit at me?”

“That’s not true! Nobody spits at you! You just want the attention!” Ron yelled back.

“YES! THE ATTENTION!” Harry screamed. “I JUST LOVE THE ATTENTION IN THIS GREAT BIG EMPTY CHAMBER!” He threw his hands into the air in frustration.

“Not here you idiot I mean with the castle!” Ron yelled. “You just want to deal with this yourself so you can prance around going how you saved the school!”

Harry gave another laugh. “The school? You honestly think I’m doing this for the school?”

“You-you're not?” Longbottom asked.

“No, of course not,” Harry sneered. “Frick the school, and frick Dumbledore for all I care. I’m doing this because my mentor told me to and because I know if I don’t then the school will most likely close, and my education will be interrupted. So both of you can just kindly shut up and close your eyes so I can have a chat with a giant murderous snake with killer eyes. Thank you.” He turned and huffed as he glared at the statue.

The chamber was silent for a moment, nobody wanting to speak. Suddenly, Neville’s whispered voice broke it as he asked, “Ron, what should we do?”

“Just shut up and close your eyes,” Ron muttered.

Neville gulped and Harry took a quick glance back to make sure that they were listening. He saw that they both had their eyes closed but wands still in their hands. He gave a long sigh and licked his lips. “Here goes nothing,” he muttered and looked up at the statue, switching to Parseltongue.

“Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four!”

Slytherin’s gigantic stone face was moving, opening wider and wider to make a huge black hole. He heard the basilisk stirring inside the statue’s mouth, slithering from its depths. He remembered his master’s advice. Keep his eyes open to show he wasn’t afraid, but do not look at the snake. The Basilisk appeared, its giant yellow eyes zeroing in on Harry. He looked everywhere else as it fell from Slytherin’s mouth, landing with a thud. Behind him, both Ron and Neville whimpered.

“Now?” Neville asked.

“Shut up,” Ron hissed.

Harry looked at the Basilisk’s body. It was far too large for his own taste, he would rather have Salazar here than this gigantic beast, but he would admit that the scales were a pretty green. “Who are you? Where is the girl?” the Basilisk hissed.

“I am the Heir of Slytherin!” Harry declared.

“Lies! The one who commands me is the girl! Possessed by my master, the Heir. You are not him, so you must be food,” the Basilisk said.

“We are not food! I am the Heir of Slytherin! Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, is my master! He and I can speak the snake’s tongue. I am the Heir of Slytherin!” Harry repeated.

“The girl spoke Parseltongue too,” the Basilisk chuckled. “But only because my true master possesses her. I do not smell him on you.”

“Then why do I have my eyes open? Why aren’t I cowering in the dark like the others here?” Harry demanded.

“Because you are a fool, little boy.”

“No! Because I am the Heir of Slytherin!” Harry yelled.

“Now?” Neville whimpered barely above his breath.

“Not now,” Ron hissed back.

The Basilisk slithered forward, and Harry quickly turned his gaze to not meet its eyes. “I am so very hungry,” the Basilisk hissed out. “Rats can only fill you so much. What I want, more than anything, is to eat fresh meat.”

“We are not for eating!” Harry yelled. “I am the Heir of Slytherin, you will listen to me!”

“Not for eating, the little heir says? Then why are there three of you?” The Basilisk hissed, almost as though it was chuckling. “Three plump little humans all nicely prepared for me. I promise it will not hurt as I bite into your bones and strip away your fat and muscles. I’ll swallow you whole if you like. All you have to do is just stare into my eyes.” The Basilisk inched closer to Harry, lowering its face to the floor so that it was directly at level with Harry. The boy did not flinch. He just gazed downwards, the Basilisk’s face leaving his view entirely. He could feel its hot breath against his face, and a long tongue hissed out to lick him.

“You will not eat us,” Harry said, doing his best to keep calm. “I am here to deal with you.”

The Basilisk lunged back and laughed a hissing laugh. “Deal with me? And how will you do that? I am as old as the castle! You cannot simply deal with me.”

Harry paused for a moment. He looked up at the Basilisk, stopping at its body once more. “I can make a bargain with you,” he said in English.

“NOW!” Ron yelled. Harry barely turned around in time to see both Neville and Ron wave their wands in Harry’s general direction, both yelling “Stupefy!”

The stunning spells rocketed from their wands. They both soared past Harry, barely hitting him and the Basilisk. “Rictusempra!” “Flipendo!” “Petrificus Totalus!” The spells shot off from their wands, blinding flying off in any and every direction.

The Basilisk hissed angrily. “Tricked! Tricked! The little heir thinks he can trick me! I will eat you all up and gnash on your bones!”

“NO!” Harry screamed. “STOP! STOP!”

“We’re hitting it! Keep going, Neville!” Ron screamed.

“No, you idiots you’re making it worse!” Harry screamed back.

“You deserve this, you slimy git! Incendio!” Ron’s fire spell almost hit Harry and the Slytherin had to drop before getting burned. His body started to shake; everything was falling apart around him. He clutched his head and screamed as if his entire body was on fire. The ground around him broke, the stone erupting as large black snakes erupted around him. Harry gasped at the sight, even the Basilisk stopped.

The snakes, all as thick as Harry’s thighs, hissed dangerously before lunging at Ron and Neville. “NO!” Harry screamed. This shouldn’t be happening! Those snakes shouldn’t be here—not now after everything! Not now on top of everything! It was too much, much too much! The snakes stopped miraculously and started snapping at each other. The group of black snakes bit and attacked each other, turning into a disgusting ball of angry hisses that stayed between Harry and the two Gryffindors.

“W-What is that?” Neville demanded. “What’s going on?”

“Shut up!” Harry yelled and the snakes rolled towards Neville but still kept biting at each other. Harry got to his feet and held himself tightly. What was going on? Why were the snakes here? Why are they biting at each other? He wanted to fall apart. The snakes, the Basilisk, his master, grades, The Gryffindors, his friends—everything around him. He wanted everything to stop, everything to just leave him alone—let him be a kid for once in his cursed life!

The snakes’ attacks against each other escalated, two of them ganging up on a smaller black snake, severing its head entirely. The snakehead fell to the ground and Harry just stared in horror. The head disintegrated on the floor and from the stump of the smaller snake, a new head grew and began biting once more, curling around the two that attacked him and biting them both. Stop, stop, Harry thought, why won’t they stop?

Behind him, the Basilisk continued to hiss menacingly. He whirled around, “Shut up!” he yelled, and the snakes flew towards the Basilisk but stopped to continue fighting amongst themselves. Harry blinked. Why did they change targets? He took a step back and the snakes followed, still in a coiled gnashing mass of blackness. He found that he was breathing quickly, but for some reason, it echoed everywhere. Then it hit him, the snakes’ angry hisses matched his breathing perfectly.

They’re from me, he thought. They’re reacting to me? He was now fully aware of his breathing. He kept his eyes on the Basilisk, showing his fullest respect as he forced himself to take slow breaths. Inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly. Almost immediately, the black snakes’ hissing changed, mimicking his breathing. The fighting slowed down until they were only just lightly biting each other, though still, they hissed angrily.

I need to calm down, Harry thought. He focused on his breathing. Slowing inhaling and exhaling. With each breath, he could feel his shoulders relaxing. He didn’t even know he was tensing them so much and his jaw lowered into a more relaxed position. The snakes in front of him stopped biting each other and looked at Harry curiously. Harry shook his head and the snakes all burrowed back into the ground, the floor repairing itself.

Harry looked back at the Basilisk and with another calm breath said, “I am the Heir of Slytherin, and I am here to bargain with you.”

“Why should I believe you, little Heir?” the Basilisk asked.

“It is either you accept my deal, or I’ll have to kill you, and I do not want to make my master angry. Hurting you at all would make him angry,” Harry said. He reached slowly into his robes and pulled out his small black diary. “Bite this and let me keep the ruined diary and a fang to show that you are gone, and I will help you out of the Chamber.”

“You would let me leave? You are naive and stupid, little Heir,” the Basilisk chuckled. “Outside I will be unstoppable! Even if I only have one fang, I will consume as much as I would like.”

“Then do it, live out your days deep in the Forbidden Forest, just leave us all alone,” Harry said. “Or even find a way over the seas and travel. I do not care—as long as the attacks in Hogwarts stop.”

The Basilisk hissed and again moved towards Harry. He kept his gaze on its body as the Basilisk coiled itself around Harry, cutting him off from Neville and Ron who now stood there still and afraid.

“Potter?” Ron whimpered.

“It’s fine,” Harry stated calmly. “I’m trying to convince it to stop.”

“The way is open, I can just eat you three and roam the castle freely,” the Basilisk said.

“And you would be dead soon, there are roosters alive outside, and they are fatal to you,” Harry simply stated. The Basilisk hissed angrily.

“And you would bring me away from them safely?” it asked.

“Naturally, as far as the Forbidden Forest. From there you are free to go on as long as you leave these ground and the castle alone,” Harry hissed back. He glanced down at his watch to see the time. “It is late now; the castle is asleep.”

The Basilisk hissed thoughtfully and kept still. “I have forgotten how the fresh air tastes, and it would be good to eat more than rats.”

“You can eat whatever you want, even the foolish muggle who crosses you,” Harry hissed. “Just promise to stay away from Hogwarts and all of the surrounding grounds.”

“How exactly would you sneak me out then? Do you know these pipes by heart? I do. I know where every tunnel and every pipe leads,” the Basilisk said proudly.

“I have a map that shows where every person is. With it, nobody will find us,” Harry answered. “Do we have a deal?”

The Basilisk went quiet. He slithered around Harry as it thought, its body piling onto itself before Harry was completely blocked off. Still, he did not flinch or close his eyes. He kept staring at the body, almost lost in the moving emerald scales, until he heard the Basilisk hiss, “Give me the book.” It uncoiled itself as Harry held out the book by the corner. Then, quicker than Harry even though it could move, the Basilisk lunged at Harry, snapping at the Diary. Its fang pierced the book cleanly through and it left its mouth open for Harry to remove it and the fang The fang was surprisingly easy to pull out and the Basilisk did not flinch or bleed as he did so. A couple of pages ripped out of the diary, and Harry could see saliva dripping around the fang. “Lead the way,” the Basilisk said.

“Thank you,” Harry smiled. He turned to Ron and Neville. “We talked. We’re going to escort the Basilisk out of the Chamber.”

“NO WAY!” Ron yelled. “That thing will kill us!”

“No, it will go into the Forbidden Forest, and we will never see it again,” Harry said. “It will journey for the rest of its life, however long that is.”

“How can we trust it? It’ll eat us the moment we’re out of this place!” Neville said.

“Then you will just have to trust me,” Harry shrugged. He stepped forward and grabbed both the Gryffindors’ arms. “Keep your eyes closed if you’re scared. Just walk with me.” With some maneuvering, he pulled out the Marauder’s Map and opened it, muttering its spell. The three of them were off the map, which Harry expected. The Chamber of Secrets was a secret, so it would only be natural if the Marauders did not know of it.

With his whimpering Gryffindors, Harry marched out of the Chamber of Secrets, retracing his steps out of the main chamber and into the tunnels with the Basilisk slithering behind him, hissing about all the animals it cannot wait to eat.

They have reached the main tunnel that they slid down, and Harry got an idea, “Stairs,” he hissed and like magic, the tunnel turned into a staircase that was still large enough for the Basilisk. “There are stairs now, we’re right at the first step,” he told the other two, and they slowly climbed the stairs.

It was a long, tiring climb. Harry felt like they must have walked ten stories up before he finally saw their names blip on the map. Luckily the second floor was empty. It was after midnight. From the toilets, Harry could hear Moaning Myrtle snoring loudly, the water bubbling with her. He looked at his map and, doubling checking to make sure the coast was clear. He stopped for a moment to pick up Longbottom’s invisibility cloak and tossed it over his shoulders. The only people who seemed to be up were Professors Snape and McGonagall, who were both in their offices, as well as Dumbledore in his. He nodded and continued on. “Stay quiet,” he whispered at the two Gryffindors. “There’s a side door just below us, it should be large enough.” The two just whimpered along.

Slowly the four moved, Harry, keeping an eye on his map as he looked around for any pictures. Luckily, the frames that they did encounter had their occupants snoozing along. There was a second passage that led directly to the ground floor, and it was slightly smaller than the pipe they went through, but still, the Basilisk was able to fit as they went down the stairs. “Slowly, slowly, don’t extend your legs too much,” Harry whispered. “I got you two.”

“Can we open our eyes now?” Neville whimpered.

“Not yet, the Basilisk is still behind us. I don’t want you looking behind by mistake,” Harry whispered. They reached the final step and Harry kept his nose to the map as they continued walking. They just had two more corridors, and the Professors were still in their offices. Then, suddenly, Harry stopped. Neville and Ron stumbled and almost fell, bringing him with them. “What? What’s going on?”

“Professor Snape left his office,” Harry whispered back. “Just wait.” So they did and Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the Potions teacher was just going to bed. “Okay, let’s go.”

The night sky met them as they stepped outside. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the Basilisk squeezed through the door, hissing at the grounds. “It has been far too long since I saw the moon! And look at those stars!”

“Remember our deal,” Harry warned.

“Yes, yes, of course, little Heir, now excuse me, I think I might enjoy a Centaur or two before leaving. It has been so long since I’ve had a horse,” the Basilisk said. It slithered away towards the Forbidden Forest and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

“You guys can look now,” he said. Ron snapped his eyes open immediately as Neville blinked rapidly.

“What the hell Potter?” Ron demanded.

“Me? What the hell were you two thinking attacking us?” Harry demanded. “I had everything under control!” He swung his hand and smacked the back of Ron’s head. “Honestly, both of you are so useless,” he huffed. He turned and started to go back inside.

“Where are you going?” Ron demanded.

“I am going to give this to Professor McGonagall,” Harry said, pulling up the destroyed diary. “Then I am going to bed which I suggest you go do as well, Weasley. And one more thing—the next time you decide to have another life-risking adventure, kindly leave me out of it. Twice is far too many times with you!”

Chapter Text

Chapter 29

The Heir of Slytherin

Ron and Neville did not leave Harry alone. They followed Harry back into the castle and down the corridor into the secret passage. “Don’t walk away from us!” Neville said, “Potter!”

“Go to bed boys,” Harry groaned. “I am tired of you.” On and on they followed and yelled at Harry to stop until they were right in front of Professor McGonagall’s office. Harry pounded his fist on the door as the two caught up.

“Potter—” Ron said as the door opened.

“Mr. Potter! What are you thinking roaming around the castle at this hour?” Professor McGonagall said. She was dressed in a nightgown. “And you too, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom. All three of you should be in bed!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Harry huffed. He held up the destroyed diary. “Went down to the Chamber of Secrets, dealt with the Basilisk and this. Ginny’s diary. It possessed her and made her do everything.”

Professor McGonagall frowned and looked at the diary and the boys’ disheveled appearances. “Come inside you three and explain everything,” she said, opening the door wider. The three of them filtered in and Professor McGonagall waved her wand. Three chairs appeared in front of her desk, and a kettle poured four cups of hot tea, milk, and sugar following. Neville took the tea immediately, taking long sips as Ron just glared at Harry who nursed his cup as he told his story, filling it with only half-lies.

“I’m a Parseltongue,” Harry said. “I can talk to snakes. I heard voices through the wall, it was the Basilisk, although I did not know it at the time. A month or so ago, I was following Weasley and Longbottom because they thought that I was the Heir of Slytherin. I found them in the girls’ bathroom on the second floor. Someone tried to flush the diary down the toilet, and I snatched it before they could. Somehow, the Diary had Dark Magic in it. It possessed Ginny Weasley and made her release the Basilisk on the castle. The diary tried to possess me, but I resisted, only playing along. It told me where the entrance was, and I went there. I could speak Parseltongue, so I thought I could strike a deal with the Basilisk. That was when these two found me. They thought that I was going to release the monster again and kill someone. We argued and fought and the three of us stumbled down the entrance—”

“You pushed me!” Ron yelled.

“You were at the edge and fell, I didn’t touch you!” Harry yelled back.

“Boys! Potter, continue your story,” Professor McGonagall said. Harry nodded and took a sip of his tea. It soothed his throat, which he found was quite dry. “When I learned that it was a Basilisk down there, I researched all I could about the creature. That was where I learned that keeping your eyes close is the safest thing to do to protect yourself from its killing gaze but keeping them open meant to show the creature respect. With Weasley and Longbottom with me, I told them to keep their eyes shut tight. I didn’t want them petrified or killed by accident when I was speaking to the basilisk. We found it, and we, the basilisk and me, argued. It wanted the freedom to kill, but I convinced it to never attack again. As a show of agreement, I had it bite the dairy and then the three of us escaped. The fang fell out as I pulled the diary out.”

Professor McGonagall looked at the fang-stabbed diary in front of her for a moment before looking back at the boys. “Is this true, Weasley and Longbottom?”

Neville nodded shyly as Ron gave a stiff nod. “Potter’s been hissing at it all creepy like,” he muttered. “But there’s no way Ginny could do it!”

“Then ask her yourself,” Harry sighed. “I’m sorry Professor for sounding rude, but I am extremely tired. Can I please go to bed?”

“Not before this situation is dealt with, Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall said. “Mr. Longbottom, if you would please fetch Ms. Weasley for us?”

Neville nodded and quickly ran out of the office. Professor McGonagall frowned and looked at the two of them. She looked down at the fang once more and dared not touch it. “The three of you have broken countless school rules, I hope you both know.”

Harry and Ron nodded mutely.

“Nevertheless, Mr. Potter, you have done a great service to this school in dealing with this monster. You say it is still down in the chamber of secrets sleeping?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry nodded. “There is only one entrance to it.”

“Then before the night is over, you shall show Professor Dumbledore and me the entrance, and we shall seal it completely,” Professor McGonagall said. Harry nodded quickly. He never wanted to go back in there again. If Tom would be angry about it, oh well, he can fix the entrance himself. “Good,” she said shortly. “Now finish your tea while we wait for Ms. Weasley.”

The two boys were silent. Harry just wanted to go back to bed where he could write to both Tom and the diary, telling them both that the deed was done. Instead, he forced himself to just sit still and wait for Neville to come back with Ginny Weasley. Professor McGonagall wrote on a piece of parchment and with a tap of her wand, it turned into a dove that fluttered out of the office. Fifteen minutes went by before the door opened once more, Ginny walking skittishly in. A fourth chair appeared, and Professor McGonagall motioned for Ginny to sit down. “Miss Weasley,” she said gently, “do you know what this is?” she picked the diary up gingerly.

Ginny Weasley went pale, her eyes widening. She looked at Harry and Ron, and her cheeks reddened as she gave a small nod, “Yes, ma’am,” she spoke in a scared voice.

“Ginny,” Ron breathed, looking at his sister. “Please don’t tell me.…”

“It’s mine, but—”

“That is all, Ms. Weasley,” Professor McGonagall said, looking slightly grim.

Ron balked and looked at Harry, glaring at him. “This is your fault!” he shouted. “Do something!”

“What do you expect me to do?” Harry asked dryly. “Beg for your sister’s forgiveness? Say it wasn’t her? Well too bad. She got a diary filled with dark magic and it compelled her to open the chamber and release the Basilisk. That is the simple fact of the matter. And before you get any ideas at all—I did not do this to save her. I really do not care for Ginny outside of how she affects Fred and George Weasley—no offense, Ginny—and I did not want the school to be shut down. Two students were already attacked, including a ghost and a cat. I am very surprised that there isn’t a peep about this in the newspaper, and all I cared about is the monster not interrupting my education.”

The three Gryffindors stared at Harry slack-jawed. He just huffed and looked at Professor McGonagall, “That is all that happened. Can I please go to bed?”

Professor McGonagall folded her hands together and cleared her throat, “We thank you for your effort for the school then, Mr. Potter—though selfish some might see it. However, I do believe that the headmaster would like a word with you, isn’t that right, Albus?” she looked over the students.

“All too, Minerva,” the voice of Albus Dumbledore came from behind them. The three jumped and turned to see the man standing in the doorway. “Harry, if you would, please,” he said, giving Harry a grandfatherly smile.

I rather deal with the Basilisk, Harry thought as he stood up. His heart dropped and he felt himself going on the defensive as he walked with Dumbledore outside of McGonagall’s office. The two walked silently down the corridor for a while before Professor Dumbledore turned to lean out a window and look up at the moon. Harry stood awkwardly. He didn’t want to relax around the old man, yet he knew that if he ran away, that would be suspicious. So instead he decided to mirror Dumbledore in an arched window a little ways away from him. Silent, Harry waited for Dumbledore to talk.

“Harry,” Dumbledore sighed, “would you accept my apology?”

Harry blinked; he wasn’t expecting that at all. “What for, sir?” he asked.

“The last time we have a proper conversation was back during Christmas of your first year, I believe,” Dumbledore said. “I must admit that I was frightened. Both for you, and what your sorting meant. I was worried that in Slytherin, you would be corrupted, pulled to types of magic that are too dangerous for anyone. However your actions tonight have put me at ease. I want to apologize, Harry, for ever doubting your morality.”

Harry did not know how to respond. He frowned and shook his head. “Sir,” he said carefully, “I didn’t deal with the Basilisk out of a high moral or anything. I saw a problem that might end my education and dealt with it. I’m sorry but I don’t care about what happens to Ginny Weasley. She was stupid enough to fall for a diary that was oozing dark magic.”

“And yet, I have to disagree with you on that, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “I believe you do care, even a little, for she is your friends’ sister. You are good friends with Fred and George Weasley, are you not?” Harry nodded slowly. “Then, I think, through concern for their wellbeing, you, Harry, went out to deal with the Basilisk. It may not be the main motivator; however, it is a motivator, nonetheless. There is also a concern for your friends as well. If the school were to shut down due to prolonged attacks, then you would not be able to live with your friends for the rest of the semester. You have done a great service to the school, Harry, but do not fool yourself into thinking that it was completely selfish. What you did was, in fact, the most selfless act any student could do.”

Those words hurt Harry. Mostly because Harry knew that Dumbledore was right. He was worried. Not for himself, but for his friends. For Fred and George. For Draco, Blaise, Theo, and the others. For all of Slytherin, really. Perhaps, deep down, Harry hoped that what he did would help Slytherin, show them to the rest of the school in a good light, if only for a little bit. Harry refused to look at Dumbledore. He kept his head hung and stared down onto the grounds. Both were silent for a moment. Harry lost in his mind how he could excuse himself.

However, before he could speak, Dumbledore looked at him. “It is good that you are friends with Fred and George Weasley, however Harry, I was wondering if you thought of expanding your friendship to other Gryffindors. Perhaps those in your year?”

Harry frowned, “What do you mean sir?”

“I think it would be good for you, Harry, that is all,” Dumbledore said. “I know that you and Mr. Weasley are on rocky terms, however, I believe that there might be something there to grow. You both have shown tonight that you can work together brilliantly.”

Yeah, he almost tried killing me, and got us all killed, Harry thought. Instead, he just shook his head and took a step back, “Sir? If I can ask, why does it matter to you who my friends are?”

“I admit I may be overstepping my boundaries just a tad,” Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “However we can say that it might be because I am just concerned over your wellbeing. Have I ever told you that on the day Lord Voldemort fell, it was me who found you in the ruins of your old home?”

“No sir, I did not know that,” Harry said.

“Indeed, I was also the one who brought you safely to your family,” Professor Dumbledore nodded. “I’ve always been concerned for your wellbeing Harry.”

“I see,” Harry said shortly. He brushed off his rudeness with a yawn. “I’m sorry sir, but can I please go to bed now?”

“Yes, Harry, you can go now,” Dumbledore nodded. “However, I think you should be rewarded for your merits. One hundred points to Slytherin, I believe. You will also receive the Special Award for Services to the School. The same will be given to Mr. Longbottom and Weasley, I believe, for their own efforts.” Two hundred points for doing nothing and awards as well. Of course. Harry showed no reaction. He just nodded. Harry started to walk off but was interrupted by Dumbledore. “Harry, one more thing,” he said. “That is an interesting shawl you are wearing.”

Harry frowned and touched his shoulders, feeling the light silky fabric of the invisibility cloak. He took it off and looked at it sleepily. “Oh, right,” he said. He glanced between it and Professor Dumbledore. “It’s an invisibility cloak, it was by the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets,” he said. “I forgot I had it over my shoulders.”

“Not a problem,” Dumbledore smiled, “I take it that it is not yours?”

“No sir,” Harry answered truthfully. “It’s Longbottom’s. He and Weasley snuck up on me when I was opening the chamber. That was how they got involved.”

“Ah, of course,” Dumbledore chuckled. “Then perhaps we can return it to the rightful owner? On the way to the entrance so I may seal it.”

“Y-Yeah, of course, sir,” Harry said. He didn’t want to be with Dumbledore any longer. He just wanted to be back in his bed sleeping. But instead, they returned to Professor McGonagall’s office where the two Weasleys and Longbottom still were. “Longbottom, this is yours,” Harry said as he held out the cloak.

Longbottom’s ears went pink as he took it. “Er, thanks,” he muttered. Dumbledore looked at Professor McGonagall and nodded.

“The three of you are excused, you are to go straight to bed,” Professor McGonagall said. The three all stood up immediately and left, none of them glancing at Harry. Professor McGonagall took the diary and handed it to Dumbledore. “This is the diary that Potter says was possessing Ms. Weasley,” she said.

“Thank you, Minerva,” Professor Dumbledore said. “We shall talk about this in the morning after we all have a restful sleep. For now, Harry, if you would bring us to the entrance?”

Harry nodded silently and walked without waiting for them. He took the main corridors and stairs to the girls’ bathroom on the second floor and pointed to the sinks, the entrance pipe still exposed. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall stepped in front of it and waved their wands together. The pipe closed upon itself and coiled inward until not even Salazar could fit through it. The sinks moved back to place and Dumbledore finally dismissed Harry to go to bed.

Harry made his way back to the Slytherin Common room and only barely kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his robes before he fell onto his bed and fell asleep.

Harry woke up late the next morning. He rolled out of bed and took his time preparing for the day. Still feeling groggy, Harry walked into the common room only to be assaulted by his friends, all of them pulling Harry into a hug. “You stupid boy,” Pansy cried, “Don’t you ever do that again!”

“We were all worried when you didn’t come back for dinner, and then you just didn’t come back at all,” Daphne said. “We all wanted to look for you—even Crabbe and Goyle looked worried.”

“We were not!” Crabbe said loudly. “It’s just that—”

“It’s okay,” Harry smiled, “I’m sorry I made you guys worried.”

“So what happened? What took so long?” Blaise demanded. “We thought it would be an hour or two at most! Not all night!”

“There were complications,” Harry frowned. His stomach growled fiercely, and the boy blushed, “I’ll tell you during breakfast,” he said. So the group of Slytherins left together and took their spots at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. Some marveled at how they had one hundred more points but somehow were behind Gryffindor. Harry filled his plate and thought for a moment as he gathered his thoughts.

He told them everything from the second he left to the second he fell onto his bed. He left no detail and when he paused he gave them sharp looks when it looked like they were going to interrupt. Harry wanted no questions; he just wanted the issue to be done with. When he was finished, he started to feel tired again and the Slytherins accepted the story without hassle, knowing that Harry had to repeat it one more time for the Dark Lord. Harry wrote his letter immediately after breakfast and after giving it to Hedwig, he spent the rest of the day with his friends in the common room.

For some reason, Ginny Weasley was still in Hogwarts days and even weeks after Harry’s trip to the Chamber of Secrets. Worse of all, in Draco’s opinion, rumors spread throughout the castle about how it was Ron and Neville who went down to the Chamber of Secrets and battled the beast! Stealing a fang from it and stabbing a dark object to kill the Heir of Slytherin and Basilisk. There was no mention, at all, about Harry. “Those stupid Gryffindors!” Draco raged. “You did all the work! They just stood there scared!”

“I know,” Harry sighed, “but honestly does it matter? The Basilisk is safe and won’t be bothered, and I’m more than happy to have the attention away from me.”

“But Weasley and Longbottom!” Draco said.

“Are idiots, but even some idiots deserve a day in the sun,” Harry shrugged. “Besides, I still have my award if that matters so much. There’s still one thing I don’t get.”

“Which is what?”

“How did Ginny Weasley even get Master’s diary in the first place?” Harry asked in a lower voice. “There is no way that Master would just leave it lying around, but it looks like I would just have to wait for the summer to find out.”

“Well, in that case, we only have a few weeks,” Blaise grinned. “Then before we know it, it’ll be Samhain and we can finally do our Rituals!”

“Not so loud!” Pansy shushed, looking around, but it appeared that the Great hall did not hear Blaise’s enthusiasm.

Harry just smiled at his friends and lost himself in conversations about what they were going to do during the summer, even though they still had final exams to go through. Like last year, they all invited each other over, and even Harry said, “Master and I are looking for a new home actually, so I hope that you guys can come over soon!”

“That would be great!” Blaise said immediately.

“Wait, would that mean we would meet him?” Theo asked softly, he looked around them apprehensively. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“I don’t see a problem,” Harry shrugged. “Your families are… kind to my master,” he said vaguely. “And if he’s angry at your parents for whatever reason, I don’t see him taking it out on you guys. Besides, you have me to protect you!” He smiled brilliantly and that was enough to convince his friends.

The rest of the school year passed by quietly. Professor Sprout’s mandrakes finally matured, and she was able to cure the Basilisk’s victims, and the only hiccup, which Harry barely even noticed, was Professor Lockhart at the end of the year claiming that he was going to quit teaching. “Gifting you all my knowledge was such an illuminating experience that I must write it all down,” he claimed during their last class with him.

Harry and his friends weren’t going to miss him.

Despite their new fame, Ron Weasley seemed to always find time to glare at Harry, sneering at him whenever they had the same class, and did his best to stand tall and smugly as he recounted his story of how he and Neville slew Slytherin’s monster. Harry knew that Weasley was trying to egg him on, but Harry never fell for it. Instead, on the final night of the school year, Harry stood up in the Slytherin common room and decided to do something he knew his Tom would love, especially after the Diary gave him permission. “Everyone! Look at me!” he called out and waited. Slowly, the Slytherins turned to Harry and the boy grinned. “You all know that boring story Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom were saying? About how they found the Chamber of Secrets, and how they killed the monster inside?”

A few grumbled yeah and Harry’s grin grew. “Well, that’s all a lie!” he said. “Yeah, they were there, I’ll give you that, but all they did was stand in fear with their eyes closed and almost peed themselves!” There were a couple of chuckles, but Harry didn’t stop, “You see, here is a short version of what really happened. There was an imposter this year, pretending to be the Heir of Slytherin. She mimicked Parseltongue and gained access to the Chamber and its monster, a basilisk more than twenty feet long! It was she who ruined Slytherin’s name by attacking the school! And it was me, not Weasley and Longbottom, who dealt with it. I found out what lies in the Chamber. I figured out who the imposter was and how she gained the power to mimic Parseltongue, and finally, it was me, and me alone, who dealt with the Basilisk.”

“You killed it?”

“No, I didn’t,” Harry said, looking at the sixth year who interrupted. “I would never. I talked with it and convinced it to stop attacking the school. In return, I gave the Basilisk its freedom. I snuck it out of the castle and into the Forbidden Forest. Who knows where it is now.”

“Hang on—how?” Higgs demanded. “You need to be a Parselmouth to talk to it!”

“I know,” Harry hummed. “I am one. You were right Higgs, that night when Lockhart tried to run the dueling club. I’m a Parselmouth. Even better, I’m the Heir of Slytherin.”

The room was shocked into silence. Harry just smiled innocently and looked around at his Housemates. Every face was staring at Harry in disbelief, some with admiration and others acting like they knew it all along. Harry decided to show them a little example and turned to Salazar who was once again on his heating rock. “Salazar, come here and slither up to my arms please,” Harry hissed.

“Too much effort and my rock is too comfortable,” the lazy snake answered.

“Please, I will give you to Draco for the entire train ride back.” Harry chuckled. Salazar looked up at that.

“Fine! But only because the blonde boy is the only one who treats me properly. He pets me in the right places and gives me rats,” Salazar said.

Harry rolled his eyes and walked towards the fireplace, “I give you pets and mice all the time. And I can actually talk with you.”

“Maybe, but the blonde’s rats taste better juicer,” Salazar hissed. “In fact—tell him I want one now!”

“Cheeky thing,” Harry muttered as he helped Salazar off of his rock and around his neck. He turned to Draco and said, “He wants a mouse. You spoil him more than me and my mentor!”

“They’re the same type of mice I give to my owl,” Draco shrugged as he stood up. “I think I have one more frozen, I’ll go see.” He went to the dormitories as Harry turned to the others.

“Potter,” Amelia Selwyn said slowly. “Did you just talk to your snake?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded.

“And your snake asked for mice from Malfoy,” Selwyn said slowly. Harry nodded again. “How?”

“I told you guys, I can talk to snakes,” Harry shrugged. “For as long as I remember. As I said, I’m the Heir of Slytherin. I just thought that you guys would like to know the truth. That I’m the true Heir, and it was me, not those Gryffindors, who fixed the problem the imposter left.”

“By the Dark,” Selwyn whispered, “will you ever stop with the surprises Harry?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” Harry shrugged. “I have one more, but I don’t have permission to tell you all yet.” He gave them a cheeky grin and turned to sit with his friends just as Draco returned, levitating a dead mouse with his wand. Salazar eyed the mouse hungrily and Harry shook his head. “No, no mouse until you tell me exactly how Draco pets you better!” he demanded and spent the rest of the evening petting every single centimeter of Salazar.

Chapter Text

Chapter 30

The Dark Prince

Back. Back at the Dursleys’. For a brief moment, Harry thought that he would never see those muggles again, however, a letter from Tom at the end of the semester dashed those hopes immediately. Tom had good news, great even, but he wanted to tell the boy in person, and that required living with the Dursleys for one last time.

Their year apart seemed to have made Tom look more dashing than ever. The Dark Lord stood tall, handsome, youthful, and sophisticated on the platform of nine-and-three-quarters. He wore a simple suit and welcomed Harry in open arms, smiling brilliantly when the almost thirteen-year-old jumped to hug him. In the distance, Harry’s friends watched shocked, but Lord Voldemort paid them no mind. He had his little snake back.

“So, what did you do to our dear Basilisk?” he asked Harry as Uncle Vernon silently drove them back. Voldemort was holding his diary on his lap, but his entire attention was on Harry.

“I’ve let her go,” Harry said. “We talked and I convinced her to leave Hogwarts. Now she is somewhere out there, having much more space to move and much better things to eat besides rats.”

Voldemort chuckled, “You always continue to astound me, Harry, I am very happy.” He surprised Harry by putting an arm around the pre-teen’s shoulders. It was a casual gesture and yet Harry’s face turned a crimson red as he smiled. “I’ve been busy as well,” the Dark Lord hummed. “I have been relearning so many wonderful things and read more about the differences between Wizarding cultures. For example, did you know that only the British and American communities are the only ones who confront Dark Wizards with such fervor? The Americans going as far as trying to pressure other communities to conform.”

“That’s horrible!” Harry frowned.

“Indeed,” Voldemort nodded. “Going further, the Japanese Ministry of Magic actually have a completely different definition of what is or is not Dark Magic, and they have a ritual that allows for male pregnancies.”

“Men can get pregnant?” Harry gasped.

“Not normally, but the Japanese figured out a way. The only reason it is not better known is because other countries, especially the Americans and European countries, discourages the practice,” Voldemort said with a frown. He sighed and shook his head. “Fifty years and nothing changes,” he muttered more to himself than to Harry.

However Harry still just hummed along and nodded. Uncle Vernon pulled into the small driveway and the three stepped out, Tom taking Harry’s hand as Uncle Vernon took Harry’s trunk. “I am sorry you have to come back to this dreadful place, my little snake,” Tom sighed. “I am close to figuring out a way for us to see each other when needed, however, I need to think on it more, as there will be several complications. For now, my Harry, we need to have a little talk.” He held up his diary and pulled Harry to sit down next to him. “How exactly did my diary come into Ginny Weasley’s possession?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, shrugging. “Where was it supposed to be?”

“Safe and hidden away with Lucius Malfoy,” Voldemort said, frowning. “It seems that he has appeared to have forgotten his task” He drummed his fingers on the diary and looked at it pensively. “Now what to do?”

“Punish Mr. Malfoy?” Harry suggested. “But maybe not too much because I don’t want to hurt Draco or Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Not to worry, we won’t make Narcissa a widow,” Voldemort muttered, “but you are right that there will be punishment. However I will need a bit more power, and this Diary will provide.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“This is my first Horcrux Harry, it holds half of my soul, and thus so much magic,” Voldemort smirked.

“But what about the Diary and the Tom Riddle inside it?” Harry asked. “What’s going to happen to him—uh you?”

“He and I are the same, Harry,” Voldemort said, “it will be just like I am remembering long lost memories, as well as remember other interesting things, such as everything young Weasley wrote in the diary.”

“Ohh,” Harry said, blushing slightly.

“You’re blushing,” Voldemort chuckled, “Now Harry, please don’t tell me you’ve told our friend Tom something embarrassing, did you?”

“N-No, Master,” Harry stuttered.

“Then you’ll have nothing to worry about,” Voldemort chuckled. “It will be a while to get everything I need ready for this ritual. It will be painful, and I will be doing it alone.”

“Why alone?” Harry asked.

“Because the main thing a person needs to reabsorb a piece of your soul is regret. And though I felt regret, I feel none towards my Horcruxes, any of them,” Voldemort explained, and he held Harry’s cheek gently.

“Ohh, where will you do this?” Harry asked.

“Our new home would be fitting enough, I believe,” Voldemort said, though he did not look pleased. “Riddle House. It’s a small manor that stands on a hill overlooking the town of Little Hangleton. It belonged to my father and my disgusting muggle relatives. I never even thought of using it however, it would be much more pleasurable than being forced to live with your muggle relatives.” He sneered towards the kitchen where Harry’s relatives waited silently.

“That sounds great!” Harry said enthusiastically. “Can we go there now?”

“Patience, little snake,” Voldemort chuckled. “It is unlivable now. A dilapidated husk that is in dire need of repairs. But don’t worry, I’ll have it fixed during the summer and school year, and when your third year and my graduation is over, we shall have a place to truly call home.”

“I can’t wait,” Harry smiled, “I’ll be able to come home during the holidays and see you!”

“Yes, you will,” Voldemort smiled, “and you will be able to do little tasks for me. In fact, we can start that right now.” Harry perked up at that and Voldemort chuckled lightly. “Yes, you see while at Durmstrang this year I have perfected my disguise. Behold… your Master.”

Harry took a couple of steps back from Voldemort as he pulled his wand out. Voldemort waved his wand in front of him, and Harry gasped as he watched his Master grew taller. His limbs stretched out, almost skeletally so as his pale skin paled even further, going bone white with his fingers long and almost to a point. Voldemort’s eyes turned to a deep red and any hint of warmness or affection disappeared, leaving a chilling hatred that made even Harry a little scared. His face had the most change. Voldemort’s hair was gone completely, leaving him bald as his face turned into the same deathly white paleness as the rest of his body. It turned snake-like, his nose flattening into two slits and his ears flattening until it looked as though he did not have any. Even his teeth changed, looking sharp. Lastly, his clothes changed into a simple black robe.

Lord Voldemort looked down at Harry, looking completely inhumane and smirked, “Well little snake,” he said, his voice cold and high, “what do you say to your future husband and Master? Be honest.”

Harry knew that he should have been careful with his words, but instead he said his first thought, “I don’t want to hug or kiss you like this, Master.”

Voldemort laughed, “Good. Because you will not. I forbid you to even touching me like that while I am looking like this. Like this, I am your Master and Mentor, and nothing more. The glamour can last at most several hours to almost a day, however, I will not need to use it for long. Unless I need to accompany my followers on a raid.”

“Do I have to look like that?” Harry asked.

“No, my little snake, as I have said last year, a mask is good enough for you, and because soon you will be old enough to start your journey in the Dark, I will give you a gift,” Voldemort said. He stepped towards Harry and pressed his wand to Harry’s glasses gently. “Close your eyes, Harry,” he ordered.

Harry slid his eyes closed and breathed deeply. He could feel his glasses grow warm as they expanded and pressed lightly but securely against his face. He could feel it growing, moving to perfectly fit the top part of his face. Voldemort told Harry to open his eyes and he did so, gasping at what he saw in the mirror that appeared in front of him. He was wearing a dark emerald-green masquerade mask embroidered with snakes that slithered around the upper edge and curled around the two eye-holes from which Harry saw everything so clearly. He smiled brilliantly at his reflection and moved his head fast, the mask not slipping a centimeter. “I love it!” he exclaimed, “I’m Batman!”

Voldemort just ignored Harry’s childish outburst and with a wave of his wand, made the mirror disappear. “I think you will need a more proper title than that, if you are to wear the mask, Harry,” he said.

“What do you mean? Like what?” Harry asked, looking up at his master.

Voldemort smiled, and in an instant, his glamour was gone, his handsomeness made whole. He took a step forward and took Harry gently by the chin, “Both you and Adrian are my little snakes, but seeing how you react to the Dark, how eager you are for its and my approval, I can only think of one title that can fit you, Harry Potter.” He leaned forward and Harry’s face turned red as he stared at Voldemort’s lips, he wanted them to finally touch his, to finally feel his Master against him. But Voldemort continued to lean until he was against his ear, and barely above a whisper, he said, “My Dark Prince.”

Harry swallowed heavily and he nodded. The Dark Prince, he liked that. Voldemort smiled and touched Harry’s mask. It dissolved into his glasses once more and Voldemort kissed his scar before taking a step back.

“I assume that you remember the layout of Malfoy Manor?” the Dark Lord asked.

“Uhh, kind of,” Harry answered truthfully. “Why?”

“When I am done with the diary, I will have a task for you. There will be a message for Mr. Malfoy in the diary. I want you simply leave it on his desk in his office opened to the message so he will not miss it,” Voldemort said.

“Is this part of the punishment?” Harry asked. “How will he know it is from you?”

“He will,” Voldemort smirked. “But that is not till later in the summer, after your birthday no doubt. It will take that long for me to set up the ritual. Until then, the summer is up to us. I assume you already have plans with your friends?”

“I do,” Harry smiled. “Oh! I’m actually going to see Fred and George during the summer too, hopefully soon. Their mother invited me to meet her, and I can’t wait to see Ron’s face.”

“Good,” Tom said, “And I hope you will visit the Malfoys soon if only to reacquaint yourself with the manor. However, in the meantime, how about some lunch, Harry, and you can tell me every single detail you’ve left out of your letters.”

The invitation from Fred and George came a week into the summer break. Harry was spending breakfast examining his glasses. He did not know it at first, but they were different now. Along the temples were now two snakes barely hidden in view. Tom dropped a small stack of letters in front of Harry, shocking the boy. “You are very popular, little snake,” he said. “It could make a master jealous.”

“You know that you’re my priority, Master,” Harry grinned. “They’re all my friends and I love them, but I love you even more.”

“I wonder if you truly understand what you’re saying yet,” Tom muttered.

Harry pouted, it hurt that Tom still did not believe that he loved him. He told him for years and years and Harry knows that he will keep on telling and showing Tom he loves him until he finally understands. Maybe once he’s older, he’ll understand.

But before that, letters!

They were all various invitations and wonderings about how Harry was doing and what they’re up to. Theo and Daphne were going to be away in France together with their families while Blaise was going to spend a week or two in Italy to visit his mother’s family. It made Harry a little jealous. He never even thought of stepping off of Britain, but the idea of visiting another country appealed to him greatly. He looked up at Tom and said, “One day you and I are going to go and visit another country. Maybe Japan or something?”

“That would be useful, there are various tomes that the Japanese have that I cannot get here,” Tom agreed.

“No, as in a vacation,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I want to go on vacation one day with you, Tom. When we’re older, and maybe together.” His cheeks turned red at that.

“Of course, little snake,” Tom smiled, “Mayhap as a sixteenth birthday present, as a celebration of your successful journey through the Dark. A long holiday visiting whatever country you desire.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “Yeah, that sounds great. Will you remember?”

“Harry, every detail about you is forever etched into my memory,” Tom said, sounding like he was almost purring. “Of course, I will remember even if you do not.”

“Good,” Harry said. “Good… because I’ll remember too.” And with that, he picked up Fred and George’s letter and opened it. As expected, Fred and George asked Harry if he could visit them tomorrow. Harry looked up at Voldemort who nodded, and Harry grinned as he wrote his reply.

The next day, after Harry had his breakfast he and Tom made sure that he was properly dressed. He was wearing a nice shirt and jeans, looking slightly muggle but in an acceptable way. “You have everything?” Tom asked. “Your wand?”

“Yes, Tom, I do,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “And I have the address, their house is called The Burrow.”

“Good,” Tom muttered. “Now, be careful. You have the twins with you, but I don’t know much about the other Weasleys.”

“You didn’t fight them?”

“They weren’t part of the war,” Tom said. “Nevertheless, I’m sure they only see you as the twins’ friend. Keep it that way.”

“I will,” Harry smirked, and before Tom could react, Harry jumped up to kiss Tom’s cheek and went to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of floo powder, and stood in the fireplace. He threw it down and yelled, “The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole!” The last he saw of Tom was his smirking face before the emerald flames took over.

When the spinning stopped, Harry stepped into a cluttered living room filled with sofas and armchairs, a wooden wireless set, a huge wooden bookshelf, and a clock that, as Harry looked at it, had nine hands that all had the names of the Weasley family members and indications of home, school, work, traveling, lost, dentist, hospital, prison, and mortal peril. Almost immediately, however, Harry’s view was blocked by a rather stout woman with red hair.

“Good graces! You must be Harry!” the woman said, “Come here, come here, let me have a look at you—have you eaten? I still have some eggs and sausage that I can heat up. I’m Mrs. Weasley, and it is such a pleasure to finally meet you.” Mrs. Weasley pulled Harry into a tight hug and brought him into the kitchen and sat him down. “You do look rather handsome; I must admit that—one second dear let me get Fred and George for you.” She bustled out of a door outside and yelled for Fred and George. “Those two I swear,” she sighed as she came back inside. “From what I’ve heard of it, I only got you and Cedric to thank for keeping them out of detention at times. Though I wish they would apply themselves more. They’re very smart you know—very smart indeed—it’s just they rather fool around with those little tricks of theirs. And not to even mention that this is their O.W.L. year! Why it’s only one of the more important years at Hogwarts, it can affect their whole lives and if they decide to muck it up by fooling around, then that is just a waste of their potential, I think. But what do I know I’m just their mother. I heard you live with a guardian, yes, a mentor? Surely you can understand where I’m coming from.” As she talked, dishes moved by themselves with a wave of her wand, and before Harry knew it, he had a plate of hot eggs and sausage in front of him.

Feeling exhausted just from listening to Mrs. Weasley’s rant, Harry nodded. He took a small bite as he thought about his response and couldn’t stop his cheeks from heating up slightly at how delicious the food was. “He cares a lot about my education,” he said. “Tom does too—he’s his son.”

“Yes, I’ve heard about that,” Mrs. Weasley nodded. “They told me that he doesn’t go to Hogwarts?”

“No, ma’am, Tom was accepted in Durmstrang. He’s graduating this year.”

“That’s nice,” Mrs. Weasley smiled, “Though that school is rather… unique, is it not? Why have your guardian chose that school?”

“It’s the school that he went to,” Harry said easily. “He thought that it was appropriate that Tom went there, while I went to Hogwarts. We don’t mind really; we send each other letters almost weekly so it’s like I can barely miss him.”

“That’s very sweet,” Mrs. Weasley smiled, “you and Tom must be very close, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am, he’s the best,” Harry grinned brightly.

“That is very nice to hear, dearie,” Mrs. Weasley smiled. The door opened and Fred walked in, looking annoyed. “What mum? Oh—hi Harry!”

“Hey, Fred!” Harry smiled, “Where’s George?”

“With Cedric,” Fred groaned.

“Honestly Fred, I think it’s nice that he and Cedric are such good friends,” Mrs. Weasley said. “We were always neighbors, Harry, but it was always such a trek to get between our houses. Something nice must have happened during Hogwarts to get them close. Why they seem to make the journey almost every day!”

“Yeah, something nice,” Fred muttered, glancing at Harry, who nodded. He remembered that only he and Fred were the only ones who knew that George was gay, and it was not up to them to tell the others. “Anyway, I’m happy that you came now Harry, Dad just came in with great news yesterday.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! He won the Daily Prophet Prize Draw! Seven hundred Galleons!” Fred said excitedly.

“That’s amazing!” Harry gasped, “Congratulations!”

“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Weasley smiled, “how are your eggs?”

“It’s all delicious Mrs. Weasley, thank you very much,” Harry said honestly. He took his empty plate and put it in the sink, taking out his own wand before Mrs. Weasley could comment and, with a swish, his plate and cutlery were cleaning themselves before floating to a rack to dry.

“Harry, my, who taught you that?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“Sorry, shouldn’t I have done that?” Harry asked hesitantly. “It’s one of the first spells my mentor—guardian—taught me when I got my wand.”

“No, no I’m very grateful,” Mrs. Weasley smiled, “if only my boys would learn some spells like that! But aren’t you not supposed to use magic outside of Hogwarts?”

“Oops, I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I was never really told or followed that rule.”

“So polite, but I can see how you and my boys became friends,” Mrs. Weasley said wistfully. “You don’t need to worry about it, dear, just be more careful.”

“I will,” Harry nodded.

There were footsteps behind them of someone coming down the stairs followed by a rude and familiar voice, “Why are you here!?”

Everyone turned at the screaming voice to see Ron standing in the kitchen entrance glaring at Harry.

Mrs. Weasley huffed and put her hands on her side, “Ronald Weasley! That is not how we greet a guest in my household!” she yelled.

“But Mum! He’s a slimy disgusting dark wizard! He’s a Slytherin!” Ron yelled.

“Hello Ron,” Harry sighed, “I hope your summer holidays are good.”

“It was until you showed up, Potter,” Ron said.

“Ron!”

“Mum! Why is he here? We hate each other!”

“He is Fred and George’s friend and I want to meet him,” Mrs. Weasley said, “besides if you two give each other another chance, you might find that you have stuff in common. After all, Harry seems like such a nice boy, I’ve heard nothing but nice things about him from your brothers—and he did help with that horrible diary incident.”

“I’ll be civil as long as you are, Ron,” Harry said smiling politely, “besides, I don’t want to upset Mrs. Weasley.” Ron just glared at Harry and huffed.

“Anyway Harry, I’m glad I get to meet you now,” Mrs. Weasley began. “Arthur and I were talking about it, and we were thinking of treating the family to a vacation!”

“That’s amazing!” Harry said as Fred and Ron stared at her. “Really!?” they both said.

“Well, we’re still planning it, but yes,” Mrs. Weasley nodded. “We’re thinking of heading down to Egypt to visit Bill, it’s been so long since we’ve seen him. He works with Gringotts, you know, Harry. He’s a Curse-Breaker.”

“Sounds interesting,” Harry said. “He goes into tombs to investigate them right?”

“Exactly,” Mrs. Weasley nodded. “It’s very dangerous, I wish he would just settle down with a nice wife and desk job honestly.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’ve held you for long enough, go, go, have a nice day, I’ll call you all when lunch is ready.”

Harry felt that he completely won Mrs. Weasley over by the time he had to leave in the late afternoon. He spent most of the time with Fred and George when he came back from Cedric’s, the twins showing off their newest inventions and ideas to Harry as well as their dream to one day open a Joke’s shop of their own. Harry was nothing but polite to Mrs. Weasley, even showing off a cleaning spell to George with Mrs. Weasley’s permission, of course. When he had to leave, she was singing praises about him, causing Ron to sneer and scowl relentlessly as Ginny just avoided him in general.

He returned to Privet Drive to see Tom bent over a series of papers. “What is all that?” he asked.

“Just some designs for our new home, I’ve had a rather productive day,” Tom said. “It took me an hour just to get access to my vaults in Gringotts, and two more to get the deed to Riddle House. I had to play the part of an eccentric rich muggle man, which I think I’ve done very well.”

“Did anyone recognize you?” Harry asked.

“No, and if they did, they would be old and senile at their age, a bit like Dumbledore,” Tom chuckled. “How about you? Did you have fun antagonizing poor Ronald Weasley?”

“Yeah, I did,” Harry chuckled. “Fred and George showed me all this awesome stuff I can’t wait to try out! And they’re going to Egypt! Mr. Weasley won a draw, and they’re spending the money on a vacation to Egypt.”

“Should we add it to the list?” Tom hummed.

“Maybe, is there anything interesting in Egypt?” Harry asked.

“There are tombs of ancient witches and wizards whose catacombs are filled to the brim of magic, traps, and curses,” Tom answered, “or were you asking for more touristy options?”

“Both? The tombs sound fun,” Harry smiled. “So, Japan then Egypt? I can’t wait until I’m sixteen!”

“We have three years to prepare, little snake, but don’t rush through just yet. You have much to learn and think about,” Tom chuckled. He kissed Harry’s forehead and smiled, “Would you like to make dinner tonight, or would you rather have your aunt do it?”

“I want to cook for us,” Harry said.

“Then, by all means, I’ll be in the kitchen looking over these anyway,” Tom chuckled, and Harry snuck another kiss to Tom’s cheek before rushing to the stove as he thought about what he wanted to cook.

Summer passed in the same matter as last year’s. Harry spent time with Tom, learning from him and practicing magic; and when he was not, he was with his friends, laughing and swapping stories about what they did so far. July came and went quickly, and as it ended Harry and Tom had an intimate celebration for Harry’s thirteenth birthday. He was officially a teenager! He didn’t feel any different, however. He still loved Tom very much and he still wanted to just spend time with his friends. So far the only changes Harry found was that he started looking at clothes differently, preferring those that hugged his body instead of the first thing that he could grab, and somewhat embarrassingly, sometimes when he thinks about Tom or spot joggers outside running shirtless, his penis becomes quite hard, and it felt like he really needed to pee.

Harry received a souvenir from the twins from Egypt, including a small article about them in the Daily Prophet that showed the entire Weasley clan smiling at the camera, Ron even had his stupid rat on his shoulder as he waved. It was apparently an enchanted flute that made snakes dance ridiculously if played, but when Harry tried with Salazar, the half-Runespoor hissed and threatened to bite Harry in his sleep and break the flute in two. His Hogwarts letter came along with a permission slip for Hogsmeade which they had Uncle Vernon sign before Harry left to get his school books, a feat that almost lost him his hand because of a new textbook called The Monster Book of Monsters. Tom was very amused when Harry returned with it.

The week after Harry’s birthday, Tom disappeared to perform the ritual in Riddle House. It was a slow, miserable week, but when Tom finally returned Harry hugged him tightly and kissed his cheeks. Tom just chuckled and slipped his diary in Harry’s hands. “You have your mission, my Dark Prince,” he smirked. He tapped Harry’s glasses and it instantly changed into his mask. Harry returned the smirk and the two stepped out into the dark night. Harry held onto Tom tightly in the backyard as he Apparated both of them away, both oblivious to a pair of eyes watching them.

“Just open the diary and it will stay on my message to the Malfoy lord,” Voldemort told Harry as they stood just outside of the Malfoy grounds. “They should all be sleeping or getting close to. Make sure no one sees you my Dark Prince, understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Harry nodded.

“Good, give me a moment to take care of the wards, they will not detect you. As soon as you plant the diary, come back immediately,” Voldemort ordered. Harry nodded and he couldn’t help but smile. His first mission for Voldemort, and he felt very excited! Voldemort took a step forward and took out his wand. He muttered under his breath as he moved it around. In front of them, the air shimmered slightly like a reflection in a broken piece of glass. Voldemort looked satisfied and turned to Harry. “Go.”

Harry ran through the grounds, looking left and right occasionally. The night sky was high above him, large clouds shrouding the boy in shadows as he made it up to the old manor. He pulled his wand out when he reached the door and whispered “Alohomora.” The door swung open silently and Harry snuck inside.

He has never been in Malfoy Manor during the nighttime. It was very strange, he had dinner here plenty of time with Draco and Blaise, but to be in it during the dead of night seemed almost wrong. The old house seemed to be sleeping. There wasn’t a soul around, not even a house-elf. Harry crept forward and looked up at the walls to see even the portraits were sleeping, Malfoy ancestors snoring quietly in their chairs or beds, Abraxas Malfoy going as far as to leave his portrait entirely to sleep in a landscape of a meadow.

From the last time Harry visited, he remembered that Mr. Malfoy’s office was on the second floor, so he walked silently towards the stairs, his footsteps strangely not making a sound as he crept up the carpeted staircase and onto the wooden landing. To the left would lead to Draco’s bedroom while the office was on the opposite side, so Harry turned right and started down the hallway. He moved ever so slowly, his ears straining to hear even the faintest of sounds. He knew that nobody would recognize him in the mask, in fact, a small part of him wanted to be caught just so he could be seen. But that would complicate things, so he continued to be silent. He peaked into every room he passed, forgetting which one exactly led to Mr. Malfoy’s office. First, he saw a library, followed by a study and what appeared to be a game room with a large billiard table in the middle as well as a couple of chess tables. Harry made a note of it for the next time he was over and continued on.

Mr. Malfoy’s office was the fifth door he tried. There was a large portrait of Mr. Malfoy staring down behind a rather large and formidable-looking desk made from a dark wood. The window curtains were all drawn, and like the rest of the house, it was empty. Harry walked rather confidently to Mr. Malfoy’s desk and placed the diary. He opened it and the pages moved automatically until it laid flat open in the middle. There, Harry immediately saw his Master’s distinct cursive writing.

Remember your loyalties, Lucius. Keep a better watch on my gifts, or else my Dark Prince will have to remind you.

Underneath was a drawing of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth. Harry wondered if that was his Master’s mark before pushing it to the side. His mission was complete, and he had to get out!

Luckily, he ran into nobody on the way back and he soon found himself running along the grounds back to Voldemort. “I ran into nobody,” Harry smiled. “That skull and snake—is that your signature or something?”

“It is my mark, but I’ll explain it on another day. Come, you’ve done wonderful my Dark Prince, you’ve earned a restful night,” Voldemort said. He kissed Harry’s mask and the two disappeared from sight.

The next day, Harry woke up to find Tom frowning at their copy of the Daily Prophet. Harry sat next to Tom and looked over what he was reading. A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at Harry from the front page.

BLACK STILL AT LARGE

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Minister of Magic confirmed today. “We are doing all we can to recapture Black,” said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge this morning, “and we beg the magical community to remain calm.”

Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis. “Well, really, I had to, don’t you know,” said an irritable Fudge. “Black is mad. He’s a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister’s assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black’s true identity to anyone. And let’s face it—who’d believe him if he did?”

While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear for a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

“One of yours?” Harry asked, looking up at Tom.

“No, actually, one of Dumbledore’s,” Tom said. “Sirius Black. He was a staunch supporter of Dumbledore, an outcast from his family because of that. I almost forgot about him, to be honest. Let’s see… Sirius Black fought for Dumbledore, while I had his younger brother on my side. What was his name? I can’t be bothered to remember. I used him for his house-elf to test the defenses for one of my Horcruxes. I actually wonder what happened to him—not that it matters.”

“Why was he in prison? Is it true that he killed thirteen people?” Harry asked.

“The last I know of him, Black wouldn’t have it in him,” Tom commented. “But I think he would be out there looking for you.”

“Me? Why me?”

“He is your parents’ friend,” Voldemort chuckled, “as well as your godfather.” He paused, waiting for Harry to react but Harry just stared at him to go on. “Yes, well, the world believes that it was Black who betrayed your parents that faithful night. This much I’ve learned during my time with Quirrell. However, that is completely false. The true betrayer was another friend. He was a sniveling rat not even fit enough to feed poor Salazar. Let’s see, his actual name eludes me at the moment, but he went by another.”

“What is it?” Harry asked, leaning forward.

Tom chuckled, “Wormtail,” he said. “A pathetic name for a pathetic man.”

Harry gasped. “I know that name! It’s on my map of Hogwarts!”

“Is it? Very strange,” Tom commented. “Well then, you must remember to ask Black about that when you inevitably run into him.”

“How do you know I’ll run into him?” Harry asked.

“Because he is trouble, and my little snake, you are completely smitten by trouble,” Tom purred, and he kissed Harry’s cheek.

Chapter Text

Chapter 31

Dementors

“Dementors! At Hogwarts? Are they insane? What kind of stupid idea is this!?” Draco Malfoy fumed. He, like everyone, seemed to have grown taller during the summer. His hair looked perfect, a neat platinum blond that reached his ears. Harry was coming to the realization that he was going to be the shortest male in their group and hated it. Even Theo was a little taller than him, the boy sporting a nice tan from his summer in France.

They were on the Hogwarts Express, able to pack most of them together in a compartment for themselves. Harry was sitting on one side next to Draco, who was in the middle, and Blaise while on the other side, Theo sat closely next to Daphne with Pansy sitting a little bit away. It was the only clear compartment left, the one right next to theirs, which Harry saw Ron Weasley and his gang go in, had a man in what looked like shabby robes sleeping. Harry and Pansy had to drag Draco away before he could sneer at the man.

“The Minister’s Draco, now please stop raving about it,” Pansy sighed. “You know it’s because of Black that they decided to protect us with them.”

“Fat lot Dementors will do,” Draco sneered. “Disgusting creatures.”

Harry frowned. He looked around the compartment and said, “I’m sorry but what exactly is a Dementor?”

“They’re the guards of Azkaban,” Theo answered. “Horrible creatures, terrible. I think they should all be culled—killed, and so does my father but he’s one of the only ones. They’re basically the embodiment of fear. They feed on joy, happiness, any positive emotion imaginable. That’s how they keep the prisoners in Azkaban in line, they feed on their emotions until they can’t even begin to have a happy thought. It’s terrible really. Most prisoners die and those who don’t and serve their sentence, they’re never the same again.”

“That’s horrible,” Harry frowned. “And Sirius Black? He’s been in this place for twelve years?”

“As well he should be!” Draco yelled, “He’s the reason your parents are dead, Harry!”

Harry frowned at that, debating if he should tell his friends the truth of the matter. It was shocking to learn both about his existence and sudden connection, but to learn that it was a lie? Harry did not know why but he had a feeling Dumbledore was involved in it. He looked at his friends and sighed, he hated having secrets from them. So he started to talk, “Actually that isn’t true,” he said in a small voice. “Master—he told me something interesting the day he saw Black’s wanted poster in the Daily Prophet. Master doubted that Black killed those thirteen people, but he knew that it wasn’t Black who betrayed my parents, but another person.”

“Who?” Blaise asked.

“A person called Wormtail, Master couldn’t remember his real name,” Harry explained. “Which, incidentally enough, is the same name on my map.” He pulled out his map of Hogwarts and opened it up for his friends so that the four creator’s names are shown. “Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs,” Harry said.

“That is strange,” Blaise said giving a low whistle. “What do you think it all means?”

“Who cares what it all means!” Pansy suddenly shouted. “Are we all going to ignore Daphne? I mean look at what she is wearing! And why are you and Theo sitting so close, huh?”

Harry looked at Daphne. He didn’t know how he missed it, but she was wearing a very large and heavy-looking robe that was a size too big for her. Daphne’s face was red, and she shuffled uncomfortably. “Aren’t you rather hot in that robe?” Harry asked.

“N-No, I’m perfectly alright,” Daphne said, though she did look terribly uncomfortable. Harry thought he could see some sweat beads on her forehead.

“Perfectly alright?” Pansy scoffed. “Please you’re joking! Not only are those robes hideous, but they are far too big for you!”

Theo glared at Pansy and said, “If Daph says they’re fine, then they’re fine,” he said.

“Daph? Did something happen over the summer?” Blaise asked looking between the two. Daphne and Theo’s faces blushed as Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Of course something happened, Daphne lost any sense of fashion,” she said. She stood up just as the train lurched and screamed as she fell back to her seat. The boys laughed and Pansy scowled, “Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, stupid smelly boys,” she muttered. She got up again and made a grab for Daphne’s robes, “Honestly take this off! You look like you’re boiling in them and that is not good for your skin at all Daphne,” she huffed.

Daphne pulled back but sighed, “Fine,” she muttered. She stood up awkwardly and looked around at them before slowly turning her back and took off the heavy robe slowly. She was wearing normal clothes underneath and Harry’s first thought was that she looked rather pretty. However, Daphne still looked uncomfortable as she sat back down, holding the robe in front of her. Pansy scoffed and said, “Honestly if it’s because of your boobs, they’ll grow eventually.”

“Pansy!” Theo yelled.

“What? It’s true,” Pansy shrugged. “Anyway, did anyone else get attacked by that stupid book we were supposed to get for Care of Magical Creatures?”

“You mean that Monster Book of Monsters? Yeah,” Blaise said. “It nearly bit my ass off when I got it, I had to tie it up in a leather sack.”

“I tied mine up with rope,” Draco said, “I swear who in their right mind would think that a book like this is a good idea? They ought to be locked away forever.”

“The book is afraid of Master,” Harry smiled, “It almost bit me multiple times but when it saw Master, it just stopped completely. He even taught me a spell that works for it and everything in general, like a more powerful, darker version of the Stunning Spell called Paralyticus. It’s still dazed in my trunk right now, but I’ve tied it with a belt just in case.”

“Of course you would be spending your summer learning magic,” Pansy sighed. “When are you going to teach us?”

“When we’re back in the common room,” Harry shrugged. “Oh! That reminds me, where are Crabbe and Goyle? I have some things I need to give them as well.”

“What is it?” Draco asked.

“They wanted muggle weights, why I don’t know,” Harry shrugged. “Thank god for levitating spells or else my trunk would be too heavy.”

“How is he?” Daphne asked in a small voice. “You know… him?”

“Master is fine,” Harry smiled brilliantly. “He’s going to graduate from Durmstrang this year and we even have a home now! He’s converting this small manor into a home for him and me.”

“Really? Where is it?” Daphne asked.

“Just outside of Little Hangleton, it’s a small village,” Harry said. “I can’t wait to explore the village.”

“Would he like housewarming presents?” Daphne asked, “Or would he—”

“I’m sure he’ll love them,” Harry smiled, “and it’ll be a nice way, you know, to show your loyalty. But that won’t be until he’s ready to show himself.”

“And when will that be?” Draco asked a little hesitantly.

“I don’t know, we just finished working on our disguise,” Harry shrugged. “He looks very scary, hideous really, but I love my mask.”

“Can we see!?” Pansy asked excitedly.

Harry smiled and nodded. He took off his glasses and showed his friends the snakes on the side of them before putting his glasses back on, took out his wand, and pressed the tip of his wand against the side as he hissed in parseltongue. He felt the glasses vibrate slightly as they expanded into his emerald mask.

“Beautiful!” Pansy gasped. “Come here, come here!” She stood up and motioned for Harry to do the same. Blaise leaned forward to close the blinds on the compartment door and windows, locking it just in case. Pansy examined the mask carefully, moving Harry’s head this way and that, giving comments like “If you have your hair just a little higher” and “maybe if you grow it out instead it can frame your face so nicely.” Harry blushed as she did this, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“What are you going to wear with this?” Pansy asked. “Certainly not just black, I hope.”

“I haven’t really thought of it,” Harry said, “but Master just has a simple black robe for his disguise.”

“You’re not going to do the same! Honestly, Daphne lost her sense of style, and I will not even think of allowing you to do the same!” Pansy huffed.

“Don’t insult Daph,” Theo muttered but Pansy ignored him.

“I’m thinking a short robe, nothing billowy, or maybe a small shoulder cape with a button-down shirt, something sophisticated,” Pansy hummed. “The pants will be black obviously, any other color would look ridiculous I feel, and it depends if you only want your enemies to see only your mask at night.”

“Hang on,” Draco said, looking at Harry cautiously, “Harry? What—what are you called? The Dark Lord is the Dark Lord but…”

“Oh, simple,” Harry smiled, “I’m the Dark Prince.” Draco’s face paled dramatically. He clutched tightly onto Blaise as he stared at Harry. Harry looked back, confused before realization hit. “Oh! Oh! I’m so sorry,” he frowned.

“You broke into my home! You scared my father!” Draco shouted.

“I didn’t mean to—Master told me to do it!” Harry said, sounding worried. “It was just to give the diary back not to hurt any of you!”

“My father almost had a heart attack—what did you even do?” Draco demanded.

“The Diary was very important to Master, it was how Ginny Weasley was even able to get into the Chamber of Secrets. Master just wanted your father to remember his loyalties and to not do anything stupid like that again,” Harry said. “I’m sorry Draco. Are you, are you mad at me?”

“No, just shock,” Draco muttered. He stood up and looked down at Harry. “Sorry for making you worry, it’s just—it’s really happening, isn’t it?”

“This is just the beginning,” Harry muttered. “In fact, I’m not sure if it really just begun properly yet.”

“It’s not,” Pansy said, “Not until I figure out your clothes! Now Draco, sit down and shut up, Harry and I are working here! So about the cape?”

Pansy prattled on for the next half hour, talking out various outfits for Harry to wear until eventually sitting down and pulling out a piece of parchment to write everything down. Harry sat down as well and tapped his mask. It returned back to a normal pair of glasses.

The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened. People were chasing backward and forward past the door of their compartment. Blaise’s cat, Salem, settled on Draco’s lap as Salazar just huffed annoyed, taking to wrapping around Harry’s shoulder and hissing at the ungrateful black cat that was stealing Draco’s attention. At some point in the early afternoon, the plump witch with the food cart arrived at the compartment door.

At some point, Draco left to “stretch his legs” and came back looking smug. “The little Golden Trio’s so desperate for friends they’re actually sitting with that drabby-looking man,” he said when he returned.

Harry just hummed, not really interested in talking about Ron, Hermione, or Neville.

The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, and the wind roared.

“We should be there soon,” Blaise said, looking at the now completely black window. The words barely left his mouth when the train started to slow down. “Told you,” Blaise grinned.

“No, it’s too early,” Theo frowned, looking at his watch.

“Then why are we stopping?” Harry asked.

The train was getting slower and slower. It stopped with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

Daphne and Theo screamed.

“Quiet!” Draco yelled.

“Sorry,” Daphne muttered.

“What is going on?” Pansy demanded.

“Can the train break down?” Blaise asked.

“Quiet!” Draco repeated.

They all quieted down immediately, and in the distance, they heard a slow squeaking like the train door opening. “Someone’s coming on,” Harry whispered.

“Some light would be nice Harry,” Pansy whispered.

“You have a wand.”

“You have fire.”

“Shut up both of you,” Daphne whispered. She pulled out her wand and muttered “Lumos.” Faint wandlight lit the room and a second later, the door slowly opened.

Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering light from Daphne’s wand was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry’s eyes darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak, and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water.

But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Harry’s gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak.

And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

An intense cold swept over them all. Harry felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest; it was inside his very heart. …

Harry’s eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn’t see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. He was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder.

And then, from far away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. He wanted to help whoever it was, he tried to move his arms, but he couldn’t … a thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him—

“Harry! Harry wake up! Wake up!” Someone was slapping him.

“W-What?”

Harry opened his eyes, there were lanterns above him, and the floor was shaking—the Hogwarts Express was moving again, and the lights came back on. He seemed to have slid out of his seat onto the floor. Pansy and Draco were kneeling next to him, and above them, he could see the others watching him along with what Harry assumed was the man in the other compartment. Harry felt very sick; when he put up his hand to push his glasses back on, he felt cold sweat on his face.

Draco and Pansy heaved him back onto his seat.

“Are you okay?” Draco asked nervously.

“Yeah,” Harry said, looking quickly towards the door. The creature had vanished. “What happened? What was that thing? Who screamed?”

“No one screamed, Harry,” Blaise said.

Harry looked around the bright compartment. “But I heard screaming.”

A loud snap made them all jump. The man was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces. “Here,” he said to Harry; handing him a particularly large piece. “Eat it. It’ll help.”

Harry took the chocolate. “What was that thing?”

“A dementor,” the man said. “One of the dementors of Azkaban. Eat the chocolate, it’ll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…” He left the compartment.

Harry took a bite of the chocolate and warmth spread suddenly to the tips of his fingers and toes. “I never want to meet another dementor,” Harry muttered. “Did Master use them, in the last war? What even happened even?”

“Well, when the Dementor saw you, you just sort of went rigid before falling out of your seat and started twitching,” Draco said, still looking scared. “Then that man—he called himself Professor Lupin—stepped in and stopped the thing. He pulled out his wand and produced this silvery thing that shot out at it, and it turned around and glided away.”

“It was a Patronus,” Theo said from his seat, “Professor Lupin produced a Patronus.”

“Well, I for one am happy to see that we finally have a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows what he’s doing,” Blaise said. “Now Harry come here.” He dragged Harry towards him and sandwiched the boy between himself and Draco, each boy taking a hand, Blaise taking the rest of the chocolate. Draco and Blaise took turns feeding Harry (which the boy didn’t mind at all) as the train sped on.

They didn’t talk much during the remainder of the journey. At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get outside. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain was driving down in icy sheets. Harry and Draco ran ahead to secure a carriage for them, the others catching up. Harry saw Crabbe and Goyle behind with Millicent Bulstrode and felt sorry that they all couldn’t pile into one carriage.

The carriages pulled by the leathery black horses sped on down the trail towards Hogwarts. All Harry wanted was his bed in the Slytherin dungeons and maybe a nice long hug from his Master. Preferably in Harry’s bed.

The carriages soon came to a stop and the group joined the mob of students as they walked up the stone steps into the entrance hall, and through two great oak doors that led to the Great Hall. The now third-years took their places in the Slytherin Table and waited.

The sorting was boring to Harry, his mind was still preoccupied with the Dementor attack. Any coldness was long gone, but still, he could see the creature in his mind and hear the long-off scream. Then, quite suddenly, Dumbledore stood up and Harry realized that he spaced out through the entire sorting.

“Welcome!” Dumbledore said, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast.”

He cleared his throat and continued, “As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business.” He paused and Harry thought that Dumbledore did not look happy at all about the dementors being at the school.

“They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds,” Dumbledore continued, “and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises—or even Invisibility Cloaks,” he added blandly, glancing at the Gryffindor table. Harry knew that he was speaking about Weasley and Longbottom. “It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I, therefore, warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors.

“On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Harry looked down at the staff table and saw Professor Snape, who stared at Professor Lupin with absolute loathing.

“As to our second new appointment,” Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away. “Well, I am sorry to tell you all that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on the teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties.”

“You’re kidding!” Draco sneered. “That giant oaf?”

The Gryffindor table applauded tumultuously. Hagrid was ruby-red in the face and staring down at his enormous hands, his wide grin hidden in the tangle of his black beard.

“Disgusting,” Draco continued.

“We should have guessed, only he would be insane enough to give us a killer book,” Blaise said, the Slytherins all nodded, looking extremely disappointed.

“Does he even know anything?” Harry asked, “he looked like he can barely string a sentence together.” The group continued to look at Hagrid for a little longer until Dumbledore called for the feast to start. They were distracted immediately by platter after platter of delicious food that appeared in front of them.

The group talked and ate, Harry listening intently to Crabbe and Goyle about how they both wandered into a muggle gym one day and instantly fell in love with it. They were still quite heavy, but their fat looked to be turning into muscles, and Harry figured that if it was something that they loved, well it’s good for them. He was however soon pulled into a fierce argument between Draco and Pansy, the two having differing opinions on what colors best looked on Harry. “I will die before I see my best friend in pink, Parkinson!” Draco yelled.

“Then I’ll dress your corpse up in pink and have Harry wear pink to your funeral, Malfoy! Honestly, all I said is that both you and Harry have the figure for it,” Pansy shot back.

“Guys—”

“Ha! A proper Malfoy heir would never wear pink, you are being ludicrous,” Draco said. “There is no reason on earth that would make me wear pink.”

“Not even if I have Blaise ask?” Pansy asked, giving Draco a knowing look.

“W-What? Shut up you’re being stupid,” Draco sneered. “Harry! Tell the woman she’s being stupid!”

“I uhh actually would like to try pink,” Harry said, giving Draco a shit-eating grin. “Who knows, I might even wear it with my mask! Master might have a heart attack if he sees me.”

“Well that’s one way to stop what’s coming,” Pansy muttered, “but no, you will never wear pink with that mask. Outside of it, however… we can work with. Not to be rude but you look more girly at times than Daphne! Even if both of you are flat-chested.”

“You are lucky I am too busy eating to hit you, Parkinson,” Daphne said, glaring at Pansy who shrugged.

“You have a nice body! I don’t get why you insisted on wearing that stupid robe today,” Pansy yelled.

“If you must know it’s because I feel a little cold!” Daphne snapped, “In fact, I still do so please shut up and let me wear whatever the hell I want!” She slammed a fist on the table.

The table was quiet for a second. Pansy’s cheeks turned red and she looked down to fiddle with her hands. “Sorry,” she muttered.

Daphne sighed, “I shouldn’t have snapped. Just… just please, don’t tease me about this. Please.”

“I’m sorry,” Pansy muttered again and nodded. The two girls shared a smile and harmony was restored in the group once more. Pansy immediately turned to Harry and Draco and dragged them into a conversation about clothing and colors that lasted the rest of the night.

The feast ended and the Slytherins moved as a unit, Harry smiling at first years who stared up at him as he walked by. They made the familiar path down to the dungeons and Terrance Higgs, now a burly seventh year, patted Harry’s shoulder as he brushed past all of them, “Move over all of you, the password’s ‘Wolfsbane.’” He said.

Inside, Harry made his rounds, greeting his friends in the older years and teammates on the Slytherin Quidditch Team before setting up Salazar’s heating rock on the mantel place and pulled out the half-Runespoor from his pocket. Salazar was getting big now, almost three feet long, it was getting difficult to carry the snake in his pocket. “I’m going to bed. Do not play tricks on the first years,” he warned the snake.

Salazar just blinked at him. “What if they have a nice juicy rat? Or even a pretty snake I can mate?”

“You know the only person with a rat is Weasley, and if you think of mating with another snake—whatever that means—I’ll find your mother and bring her here to yell at you,” Harry warned. Salazar huffed and Harry turned around to see some first years staring at him. “I talk to snakes,” he said shortly before turning to give Salazar a heated look. The snake just blinked lazily and rested on his rock.

Second years took the first years and started to whisper about Harry, but he didn’t care. He just yawned and said goodnight to everyone before marching up to his dormitory and falling onto his bed.

Chapter Text

Chapter 32

Talons and Boggarts

The next morning, the third years got their new schedules and Draco made a huge fuss. “First day and we have to suffer through that oaf’s class!” he moaned.

“Relax, we also have Divination,” Pansy said, sounding enthusiastic. “That at least should be good.”

“But the oaf!”

“Draco, shut up,” Harry sighed. “Look, we have the entire day with the Gryffindors. Why don’t you focus on that?”

“Potter that makes my day worse!” Draco groaned.

“At least we have Divination first,” Pansy added, “I can’t wait to see what that’s like.”

“Isn’t it all the way in the north tower?” Theo asked.

“It is,” Blaise groaned.

Theo chuckled, “Have fun with that, it’s going to take you guys ten minutes to get there at least. Daph and I are going to Ancient Runes.” Blaise gave him a stink eye but Theo just chuckled some more.

When it was time to go, Harry led the way as the third years separated, Theo and Daphne leaving for Ancient Runes as Harry, Draco, Pansy, and Blaise went for Divination. Harry had his map out as he looked for the quickest way to the North Tower. Though he had a couple of months studying the map and two years’ worth of living in Hogwarts, he did not have the entire castle memorized.

Following the corridors created by Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, the Slytherins climbed staircase after staircase, darting in and out of corridors, until they reached a small landing at the top of a spiraling staircase. The other third-years were already there, Weasley, Granger, and Longbottom looking especially winded as they glared at them. Harry looked up to see a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it.

“Sybill Trelawney, Divination teacher,” Harry read. “How’re we supposed to get up there?”

As though to answer his question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at Harry’s feet. Harry glanced at it for a moment before he climbed, the others following.

He emerged into the strangest-looking classroom he had ever seen. It looked more like a cross between someone’s attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantlepiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle.

A voice came suddenly out of nowhere, a soft, misty sort of voice. “Welcome. How nice to see you in the physical world at last.”

Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

“Sit my children, sit,” she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs and sank onto poufs. Harry, Draco, Blaise, and Pansy squeezing themselves at one table. “Welcome to Divination,” Professor Trelawney said as she seated herself in a winged armchair in front of them. “My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye. So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field…”

“Finally, something that Granger will fail in,” Draco whispered to Harry, who covered his mouth to stifle his giggle as the two glanced at Granger. Professor Trelawney went on for a little more before suddenly jumping to Neville Longbottom, asking if his grandmother was well before telling another Gryffindor whose name Harry didn’t know to “beware the red-haired man.”

They would start the semester, she informed them, with reading tea leaves as she held a large silver teapot. “Now I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future, I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear”—she caught Longbottom by the arm as he made to stand up— “after you’ve broken your first cup, would you be so kind to select one of the blue patterned ones? I’m rather attached to the pink.”

“Blaise would you like—”

“Blaise, you’re my partner,” Pansy said quickly, interrupting Draco. The blond huffed and looked angry but before he could say anything, Harry smiled and nudged him gently.

“Come on partner, let’s hope the tea at least is decent.”

The two sat up and not a second later there was a tinkle of china breaking and the two looked to see Neville Longbottom looking flustered as he held a broken teacup handle. They chuckled to themselves as they got their own cups.

They drank their scalding tea quickly as soon as they sat back down. Swilled the dregs around as instructed and then drained the cups and swapped them over. “Alright, Potter let’s see what’s in your miserable life,” Draco said, giving Harry a smile. It was interrupted, however, when Pansy gave a giggle at Blaise, “By the dark Blaise, when did you get so funny?” she smiled.

“It’s a gift, like my natural charms,” Blaise smiled.

Draco breathed and Harry looked at him strangely, “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah. Just read my stupid tea,” Draco muttered.

Harry frowned but took Draco’s cup and opened his book. “Okay,” he said, looking in Draco’s cup, “I see a cross, at least I think that’s a cross, which means…” Harry looked at his copy of their textbook, “you’ll have ‘trials and suffering’—I’m sorry about that Draco— and there’s this thing that might be the sun? Which means ‘great happiness’ so you’ll go through trials and ultimately be happy about it?”

“I’m being tested already,” Draco muttered bitterly under his breath. Harry pretended not to hear it as he just give Draco a soft smile. Draco scoffed and took Harry’s cup, turning it around. “I see a falcon,” he said. “Which means that you have a deadly enemy.” He frowned and the two shared a look. “You don’t think… him, do you?”

“He does hate Master,” Harry whispered. “What else do you see?”

Draco frowned and looked at the cup, turning his head sideways. “This looks like a blob, maybe a hat?” he said uncertainly.

“Let me see the cup, quick,” Professor Trelawney said. Draco gave her the cup and she looked at the cup for only a second before giving a scream. Everyone turned to her and Harry. “My dear boy… my poor dear boy,” she said dramatically and sorrowfully. “You have… the Grim!”

“Excuse me?”

“The Grim, my dear, the Grim!” Professor Trelawney cried. “The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen—the worst omen—death!”

Pansy gasped next to them, covering her mouth as the class just stared. Harry hated the attention, he wanted to sink into the chair he was sitting in. She soon dismissed them and the four Slytherins gathered their bags and left silently for Professor McGonagall’s Transfiguration class.

“Harry?” Pansy said cautiously as they descended the stairs. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Harry muttered. “Just looks like another year of people staring at me.” He shouldered forward, keeping his head down as he walked, the others almost running to catch up.

Harry chose a seat right at the back of the room, feeling as though he were sitting in a very bright spotlight; the rest of the class kept shooting furtive glances at him, as though he were about to drop dead at any moment. He only barely been able to pay attention to what Professor McGonagall was telling them about Animagi, remembering when he was in first year and asked how to be one, and wasn’t even watching when she transformed herself in front of their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.

“Really, what has got into you all today?” Professor McGonagall said once she turned back. “Not that it matters, but that’s the first time my transformation did not get applause from a class.”

“Please, Professor,” Granger said shockingly, “we’ve just had our first Divination class and we were reading tea leaves, and—”

“Say no more Ms. Granger,” Professor McGonagall said, “So, which of you will be dying this year? Hmm?”

“Me,” Harry said bitterly.

“Ah Mr. Potter, I see,” Professor McGonagall said. “Then you should know, Potter, that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year ever since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class.” Professor McGonagall frowned, showing her extreme displeasure over the subject. “You look in fine health Mr. Potter, so you will excuse me if I don’t let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in.”

Granger laughed and Theo snickered before frowning immediately, glancing at Granger. Harry, however, felt relieved.

He and Draco told the story to Theo and Daphne over lunch. Daphne shook her head and said, “That course is all hogwash Harry, honestly. Divination? Telling the future? That’s fairytales. My grandmother always told me prophecies are full of made-up words that only make men stupid. So don’t believe them for a second, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks Daphne, I needed that,” Harry smiled. Daphne smiled back and any residing fears or dread of the Grim vanished instantly.

After lunch, they had their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson that they all dreaded. Apparently, there was not even a real classroom. They were all expected to hike down towards Hagrid’s hut near the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid was already waiting for them, but Harry paid the man no mind. The Gryffindors weren’t here yet, so they had some free time.

“You can’t be serious,” Blaise was saying to Daphne and Theo. “Granger was in your class?”

“Yeah, and she was a total stuck up, I swear she memorized the entire book already,” Daphne nodded.

“That’s impossible Daphne! Granger was in our class,” Pansy said. “She was sitting with Weasley and Longbottom!”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Harry said, “The Gryffindors are here.” They did indeed just arrived. Hagrid seemed to perk up at the sight of them and stood tall with his dog at his heels.

“C’mon now, get a move on!” he called as the class approached. “Got a real treat for you today! Great lesson coming up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!”

“He’s leading us to get slaughtered,” Draco muttered and for one moment Harry thought that Hagrid was going to lead them into the forest. However, Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock. There was nothing in there. “Everyone gather around the fence here!” Hagrid called. “That’s it—make sure you can see—now, first thing you’ll want to do is open your books—”

“How?” Draco said in a cold, drawling voice.

“Eh?” Hagrid said.

“How do we open our books?” Draco repeated. He took out his copy of their textbook, The Monster Book of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope. Other people took theirs out too; some, like Harry, had belted their book shut; others had crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with binder clips.

“Hasn’t—hasn’t anyone been able to open their books?” Hagrid asked, looking crestfallen.

The class all shook their heads.

“You’ve got to stroke them,” Hagrid said, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. “Look—”

He took Granger’s copy and ripped off the Spellotape that bound it. The book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine, and the book shivered, and then fell open and lay quiet in his hand.

“Oh, how silly we’ve all been!” Draco sneered. “We should have stroked them! Why didn’t we guess!”

“I—I thought they were funny,” Hagrid said uncertainly to Granger.

“Hilarious, giving us a book that can rip our fingers off by just trying to read it, a real winner that is,” Harry commented.

“Shut up Potter,” Weasley said quietly. Hagrid was looking downcast.

Harry just shrugged.

“Right then,” Hagrid said as he seemed to lose his thread, “so—so you’ve got your books and—and—now you need the magical Creatures. Yeah. So I’ll go and get them. Hang on …”

“I know something else I would rather be stroking right now,” Blaise muttered as he opened his book. Pansy giggled while Daphne and Theo’s faces turned red. Harry just looked at him confused and was about to ask when Draco complained.

“God this place is going to the dogs! That oaf teaching classes, my father will have a fit when I tell him—”

“Shut up Malfoy,” Longbottom said.

“Think you’re brave, Longbottom? Funny, I heard a completely different story about what happened last year,” Draco sneered.

“Don’t,” Harry warned, grabbing Draco’s arm. “Just leave it.”

“Oooooooh!” Lavender Brown squealed, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock. Trotting toward them were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Harry had ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles with crude, steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly orange eyes. Their talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly-looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.

“Hippogriffs!” Hagrid roared happily. “Beautiful, aren’t they? Now the first thing you need to know about hippogriffs is that they’re proud. Easily offended, they are. Don’t never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing you do.”

Draco scoffed next to Harry. “They look like overgrown chickens,” he muttered.

“Shut up, I can’t hear,” Harry whispered back.

“You actually care about this class, Harry? About that oaf?”

“No, I would rather Kettleburn, but we’re stuck with the oaf, for now, so shut up,” Harry whispered. Hagrid kept on talking, telling the class how to approach a hippogriff. First, you have to bow to the creature. If it bows back, only then are you allowed to approach them. All of the Slytherins and most of the Gryffindors took a step back when Hagrid asked for a volunteer. Surprisingly, Neville Longbottom offered and approached a hippogriff named Buckbeak.

“Watch that thing will probably slash Longbottom up instantly,” Draco chuckled. But it didn’t. Instead, when Neville bowed, Buckbeak bowed back and the Gryffindors applauded loudly. Longbottom patted its beak, smiling brightly as he looked around and even gotten to ride the creature!

When he returned, with the Gryffindors cheering for him, Hagrid clapped loudly, “Well done Neville, well done! Okay, who else wants to go?”

The class, emboldened by Neville Longbottom’s success, climbed cautiously into the paddock. Harry, Draco, and Blaise got the hippogriff that Longbottom ride. It bowed immediately to the three of them, and Harry was petting its beak and head.

“I guess they are pretty looking,” Harry muttered as he looked at Draco, who stared at Buckbeak disdainfully.

“This is very easy,” Draco drawled loudly. “I knew it must have been if Longbottom could do it. I bet you’re not dangerous at all, are you? You great ugly brute.”

It happened in a flash of steely talons; Draco and Harry let out a high-pitched scream as Draco was pushed roughly out of the way and the next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Harry and Draco, blood blossoming over Harry’s robes.

“He’s dying!” Draco yelled as the class panicked. “He’s dying! Look at him! It’s killed Harry!”

“He’s not dying!” Hagrid said, who had gone very white. “Someone help me—gotta get him out here—”

Granger ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Harry easily. His body screaming in pain, Harry finally had the mind to look down at his arm where there was a long, deep gash. Blood splattered the grass and Hagrid ran with him, up the slope toward the castle.

Harry started moaning in pain, his eyes watering. “Stupid damn bastard,” Harry groaned. “Stupid idiot.”

“You’ll live—no need to call me that!” Hagrid said, still looking extremely pale.

“Not you—Draco,” Harry groaned. “Just run faster.”

Hagrid brought him to the hospital wing, and after telling Madam Pomfrey what happened, Harry’s arm was cleaned with a thick salve that smelled like rotten fruit and bandaged, the wounds too deep for a simple healing spell to fix. Harry couldn’t move his arm at all, but he would rather have it bandaged. “Now Mr. Potter, you’re not going anywhere for a while, so I suggest you sit tight,” Madam Pomfrey said when Hagrid left. “I want to watch this heal for a while, make sure no funniness is going on.”

“How long do I have to stay here?” Harry asked.

“Overnight at least,” Madam Pomfrey said. “Don’t worry about your arm, it’ll be right as rain in the morning. Yours is not the worst cuts I’ve seen, Mr. Potter. You should see the unlucky students who Splinch themselves! Now get comfortable and I’ll have you back in class before you even miss them.”

An hour later, Harry’s friends visited him in the hospital wing. Draco was seething. He looked at Harry, laying down and all bandaged up, and sneered, “I swear I’ll get that stupid fat oaf off of these grounds, just you wait Harry. Father will hear of this, and he’ll have that deranged beast killed!”

“Draco,” Harry groaned, “Can you just shut up?”

Draco gasped but stayed silent, staring at Harry’s bandaged arm as the boy sat up and talked with the others, smiling at Crabbe and Goyle as they caught up. They stayed until they were kicked out by Madam Pomfrey, promising them that Harry would be released tomorrow. She helped Harry change into pajamas to sleep in and as soon as he was settled again, dinner appeared on a tray for him to eat. He was only happy that the hippogriff got his left arm, but still, it was awkward for the boy to eat.

Harry wasn’t released until late morning the next day As Madam Pomfrey said, his arm was completely healed with only a long white faint scar to show that he was even injured at all. He had Potions and walked into the class when it was already halfway done. “Harry! Are you alright? Does it hurt?” Pansy asked immediately.

“Yeah, it does, but the salve helps,” Harry said, his arm feeling particularly numb. Madam Pomfrey told him that his feeling should return properly by lunchtime. Still, he can use it, and that was good enough for him.

“Settle down, settle down,” Snape said idly. “Mr. Potter, we are working on the Shrinking Solution. I trust that you are smart enough to read the instructions on the board, or did that rampaging beast harmed your eyesight as well?” Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the Golden Trio scowl at Snape.

“I can still read, sir,” Harry said.

“Then get to work.”

Harry set up his cauldron next to Draco. “Harry, I’m—”

“Still angry at you Draco, try again at lunch,” Harry whispered. “Maybe this will teach you to watch your mouth, hmm?”

“I’m sorry,” Draco muttered, and Harry sighed, knowing full well that the blond would be entirely forgiven by the time Potions was done. But until then, he let Draco stew in the silence as he focused on his task ahead of him. He started a little later than the others, but he was able to still do his best, reading the instructions clearly and working on the potion on his own. By the end of the period, Harry’s potion was completed and earned Slytherin two points, and he and Draco were laughing over Longbottom’s failed potion.

“I’m thinking I’ll write to my mentor after this,” Harry said as the Slytherins made their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts after lunch. “Two days and I already have a new scar.”

“I said I’m sorry!” Draco groaned.

“I know, but still he would want to know,” Harry nodded. “I’ll just need to be careful about how I phrase it.”

“Why? What would he do if you… don’t?” Daphne asked, sounding a little scared.

“Hurt Mr. Malfoy, or worse he’ll appear here himself and take out that poor hippogriff that Draco insulted,” Harry said, having a little fun as Draco groaned worryingly.

Daphne and Pansy gasped while the boys just grimaced. “He won’t… would he?” Draco asked, swallowing.

“You don’t have to worry, Draco,” Harry said, turning to him. “I’ll take care of him. But if this teaches you to watch your mouth, then it’s a good lesson to learn.”

“I already learned it! Please don’t tell him that it’s my fault, please Harry!” Draco begged. Harry just smiled and wrapped his arm around Draco.

“I won’t let anything bad happen to you guys, you know that,” he smiled. “He’s going to huff, obviously, but I can convince him not to do anything stupid. Watch, this year will be the year he finally kisses me, just you wait.” Draco relaxed slightly and the two walked into class together.

Professor Lupin was waiting for them next to an old black wardrobe. “Sit down everyone and take out your wands. Today’s lesson will be a practical one,” he called out as everyone came in. The wardrobe shook and Professor Lupin said, “Nothing to worry about, there’s just a boggart in here.”

Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. Longbottom gave Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, and even Blaise seemed to eye the door handle apprehensively.

“Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces,” Lupin said. “Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, cupboards under sinks—I’ve even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff could leave it to give my third years some practice. Now, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a boggart?”

Theo raised his hand, but Granger’s hand was faster. “It’s a shape-shifter,” she said before Professor Lupin could pick. “It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Professor Lupin said, and Granger glowed, “however maybe next time, Ms. Granger, we wait a little before answering. We don’t to devoid our fellow students the opportunities of answering. Now, the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person most. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.

“This means, that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?”

Granger’s hand was in the air. “Is it because there’s so many of us it won’t know what shape it’ll take?” he guessed.

“Precisely!” Professor Lupin said, and Granger put her hand down looking a little disappointed. “It’s always best to have company when you’re dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. Now the charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing. We will practice the charm without wands first. After me please … riddikulus!”

“Riddikulus!” the class said together.

“Good,” Professor Lupin said. “Very good. But that was the easy part, I’m afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where I will need a volunteer. Let’s see,” he looked around the room and smiled, “Ah! Mr. Malfoy, if you would?”

Draco looked surprised but stood up. He walked up towards Professor Lupin and the wardrobe as it shook again. “Now, Mr. Malfoy, would you mind if I call you Draco?”

“No.”

“Okay Draco, what do you fear the most?” Professor Lupin asked.

Draco glanced at the wardrobe and muttered softly, “My father’s disappointment.”

“Yes, yes, Lucius Malfoy can be a frightening thing indeed,” Professor Lupin nodded. “Now Draco, we need to think about how we can make your father less intimidating and more hilarious. What is it about your father that’s frightful of you?”

“He expects a lot,” Draco muttered, “and when he’s angry at me, he yells loudly.”

“He has a nice deep voice then?” Professor Lupin asked, Draco nodded. “Good, well how about we give him something higher pitched—like a house-elf? Think you can do that?”

Draco nodded. “Excellent!” Professor Lupin said and turned to the class. “When the boggart bursts out of the wardrobe, Draco, and sees you it will assume the form of one Lucius Malfoy. And you will raise your wand, say ‘Riddikulus,’ and concentrate hard on a house-elf’s voice. If all goes well, Mr. Boggart Malfoy will have a high squeaky voice that not even a grandmother can take seriously.”

There was a great shout of laughter. The wardrobe wobbled more violently.

“When Draco is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn. I would like all of you to take a moment to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical.”

The room went quiet. Harry thought… what scared him most I the world? His first thought was Dumbledore, but he wasn’t scared of him. Was he? No. he was cautious, non-trusting, but not fearful. Then another image came to mind. A rotting, glistening hand, slithering back beneath a black cloak… a long rattling breath from tan unseen mouth… then a cold so penetrating it felt like drowning.

Harry shivered, then looked around. “If we all have our images, let’s all line up, there we go, there we go, give Draco his space!” Professor Lupin called out as everyone lined up. Some Gryffindors pushed to the front, puffing out their chests. Professor Lupin nodded and turned to Draco.

“Are you ready?” he asked Draco, who nodded. “Then on the count of three. One, two… three…” he waved his wand and the wardrobe unlocked.

The door slid open and standing impossibly tall with long platinum blond hair, Mr. Malfoy stepped out, looking down at Draco. Draco aimed his wand as Mr. Malfoy took a step towards him. “Riddikulus!” There was a noise like a whip crack. Mr. Malfoy stumbled and looked heatedly at Draco.

“What do you think you are doing, Draco?” Mr. Malfoy asked in a high-pitched voice that sounded like he inhaled an entire helium balloon. Draco sputtered and laughed as well as the rest of the class and the boggart paused, confused.

“Excellent, excellent! Parvati! Forward!”

Mr. Malfoy changed into a blood-stained mummy whose wrappings became undone by Parvati’s spell. Then, Seamus Finnigan stepped up and the wrappings became a banshee whose wailing made Harry’s skin crawl until she started coughing, her voice gone! Blaise stepped up and the banshee turned into a vampire who hissed and stalked towards Blaise. “Riddikulus!” The vampire transformed into a colorful bird. Next was Daphne, whose boggart turned into herself, and she cried out the spell before Harry could see what exactly was different. The boggart turned into a clown. From the clown, Theo’s boggart turned into a large spider that flailed about as its legs turn into giant banana peels.

On it went before it was Harry’s turn. Harry raised his wand, ready, but—

“Here!” Professor Lupin shouted suddenly, hurrying forward. Crack!

A silvery-white orb hung in the air in front of Lupin, who said, “Riddikulus!” The orb turned into an untied balloon that blew and sputtered back into the air and exploded into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke and was gone.

“Excellent,” Professor Lupin said. “Yes, well done, everyone. Let me see… five points for every person to tackle the boggart and five points each to Harry and Hermione for answering my questions correctly at the start of class. Homework, kindly read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it for me… to be handed in on Monday. That will be all.”

Harry walked out disappointed as his friends talked about the boggart excitedly. Still, he did not let his mood ruin theirs, smiling along with them as Theo talked rather proudly about his, a rare sight for the usually quiet boy. He and Daphne kept holding hands the entire time.

After dinner, Harry sat down and finally wrote to Tom.

Tom,

It’s been only two days, but a lot has happened. First, my Divination teacher predicted that I’m going to die after Draco saw great danger in my tea leaves. Apparently, I have the Grim, those haunted dogs that hang around graveyards. After that, I had the first Care of Magical Creatures class, and you will never believe who is teaching it. Hagrid, the groundskeeper. Apparently, Dumbledore believes that he is a good choice to be our teacher. Some choice that is, the first class he brought Hippogriffs. They were interesting enough, but an incident happened. Draco, Blaise, and I were assigned to this one hippogriff and Draco was being a Malfoy. He insulted the thing and I had just enough time to push Draco out of the way before it sliced my arm. I AM FINE! I am okay, my arm is healed. All I have is a faint scar that you can barely see. Just be smart about how you respond, okay? You’re in your last year and I want you to finish without incident. Don’t think about vengeance or how you’ll get even with the damn animal or the Malfoys—I’ve made Draco regret it enough and I’m planning on holding it over his head for the next two weeks. My arm healed overnight and today I had our first Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher with Professor Lupin. I rather like him enough; he looks like he knows his stuff. Today we learned about boggarts, but when it was my turn he jumped ahead of me for some reason. I was thinking about dementors.

That reminds me, there are dementors at Hogwarts this year, another reason for you to stay in Durmstrang. They’re looking for Black. I don’t know how this will affect Samhain; I hope they’re nowhere near the celebration grounds. But don’t worry, I’ll be safe. But other than that I already miss you a lot, Tom. You have to tell me what you’re planning on doing so we can see each other whenever we want. Especially with next year, you’ll be fully graduated, and I will be at Hogwarts. I don’t think I can live seeing you only two months out of the year.

I miss you; I love you, and I want to hug and kiss you. I’m only happy that we’ll see each other during Yule, but that seems so far away now. I’m counting down the days until I’m back in your arms. Until then, I expect lots of letters even if they have nothing in them.

Love,

Harry

Chapter Text

Chapter 33

The Ritual of Intent

My little snake,

I shall promise not to come and hex both Malfoy and Hagrid if you promise to look after yourself. I’m not there to look after you Harry, and I worry every day we are apart. But hopefully not for long. I will be frank: you know how to get to the celebration grounds, correct? How you have to tap your wand twice onto the doorknob of the door out of the common room? I am trying to recreate that charm connecting our home to Hogwarts. It is difficult, almost impossibly so, to do so remotely. A workaround I am fielding for is to make a fifth shack at the ritual grounds and have that connect to Riddle House. This has its own problems, such as having the shack built in secret, however, I am hopeful to have it ready by if not early on during your fourth year.

I miss you as well my lovely. You are proving day after day how loyal you are to me, and more importantly how good you are for me. It has been an honor to watch you flourish into the beautiful man you undoubtedly will become. And the thought of one day calling you mine entirely is a very pleasurable thought. Especially once you learn about carnal pleasure. But all in good time my sweet boy.

I am a little worried about this Grim business but let us not dwell on it. Try and have a normal semester. There are only two months till Samhain and then Yule is right around the corner. I will see you then, my Harry.

Your Master and Husband,

Tom

Professor Lupin quickly became Harry’s favorite teacher. He felt excited to learn from him, and Harry couldn’t help but be reminded of whenever Tom taught him the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin’s lessons were always as interesting as the first. They studied Red Caps, goblinlike creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed, and after that, they moved onto kappas, water-dwelling creatures that looked like scaly monkeys with webbed hands. Harry only wished that he were just as enthusiastic about his other new classes. He was growing to dread Divination, where he suffered in Professor Trelawney’s stifling tower room, deciphering lopsided shapes and symbols as he tried to avoid the looks Professor Trelawney was giving him as though he would be on his deathbed at any moment.

Nobody liked Care of Magical Creatures, which, after the first disastrous class, had become extremely dull. Hagrid seemed to have lost his confidence, if he had any at all Harry couldn’t tell, and they now were spending lesson after lesson learning how to look after flobberworms. The most boring creatures that existed in Harry’s mind.

The start of October brought Quidditch practice, and Harry was excited to fly once more. Last year they were able to steal the Quidditch cup from Gryffindor and Flint was excited to do it once more. They trained three evenings a week. The weather was getting colder and wetter, the nights darker, however, none of it mattered to Harry as he found himself liking the dark more. He could be lost easier and fly undetected for longer.

Harry and Draco returned from quidditch practice one day to see the common room buzzing with excitement. “What’s going on?” Draco asked.

“Our first Hogsmeade weekend,” Blaise grinned, pointing at the noticeboard. “It’s on Samhain’s weekend.”

“Sounds fun,” Harry said, stretching.

“Yeah—hey Draco, wanna go together?”

“Yes!” Draco said a little too quickly, “I mean sure, sounds like fun.”

“Wicked,” Blaise said, his grin growing. “I heard about so many shops that we can visit; mother loves the chocolate from Honeydukes! I’m sure your mother would like some too.”

“Y-Yeah,” Draco nodded. “Then maybe we can get some tea or a drink?”

“Yeah of course,” Blaise nodded. “I talked with Pansy already, and we’re all going to meet up at the Three Broomsticks after shopping around.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, hey Harry, why don’t you join us?” Blaise asked.

Harry blinked between the two of them. Draco’s eyes went wide, and he stared at Harry pleadingly. Harry looked between the two and recognized a look on Draco that he himself had plenty of times. “I can’t, I was actually thinking of going with Crabbe and Goyle, it’s been forever since I was alone with them,” he said.

“Oh, alright,” Blaise said, and just like that, the conversation was dropped. Draco stared at Harry silently relieved, and Harry just offered a soft smile.

At the end of their next Potions lesson, Professor Snape told the Slytherins to hand in their permissions forms. When Harry handed in his, Snape raised an eyebrow wordlessly, but Harry didn’t react as he left the class and joined his friends.

The day of Samhain came too quickly. Harry woke up feeling nervously excited for both the trip as well as his Ritual of Intent that night. He went down with the rest to eat breakfast and couldn’t help but fall into the excited murmurs that filled the table. “We have to check out the Shrieking shack after Honeydukes Draco!” Blaise said excitedly, “It’s supposedly haunted and nobody goes in it.”

“Alright, yeah,” Draco breathed.

“Daph, how about we head to Tomes and Scrolls?” Theo asked, “Then maybe we can get some tea?”

“Yeah, I like that,” Daphne nodded, the two sharing a smile.

“Harry! You have to come with me please,” Pansy begged. “I’ll even join Crabbe and Goyle!”

“Okay, I’m fine with that,” Harry nodded. “I was just going to wander around.”

“Perfect, please,” Pansy said, giving a sigh of relief.

After breakfast, the students all gathered in the entrance hall where Filch was standing inside the front doors, checking off names against a long list, peering suspiciously into every face, and making sure that no one was sneaking out who shouldn’t be going.

Harry joined the line until, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Professor Lupin climbing the marble staircase. He remembered the Boggart lesson and his annoyance and curiosity of why Professor Lupin did not let him face the boggart rose once more. He patted Pansy’s shoulder and said, “I’ll be right back,” and race after Professor Lupin.

Harry caught up to Professor Lupin outside of his office. “Sir?” he said, knocking on the open door.

Professor Lupin turned around, “Ah, Harry, surprised to see you here. Aren’t you supposed to be going down to Hogsmeade today?” he asked.

“Yeah, but I just wanted to ask you something,” Harry said.

“In that case come in,” Professor Lupin said. “I’ve just taken delivery of a grindylows for our next lesson.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

He followed Lupin into his office. In the corner stood a very large tank of water. A sickly green creature with sharp little horns had its face pressed against the glass, pulling faces and flexing its long spindly fingers.

“Water demon,” Lupin said, surveying the grindylow thoughtfully. “We shouldn’t have much difficulty with him, not after the kappas. The trick is to break his grip. Do you notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very brittle.”

The grindylow bared its green teeth then buried itself in a tangle of weeds in a corner.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Lupin said, looking for his kettle. “I was just thinking of making one, it helps after breakfast I find.”

“Alright,” Harry said awkwardly.

Lupin tapped the kettle with his wand and a blast of steam issued suddenly from the spout. “Sit down,” Lupin said, taking the lid off a dusty tin. “I’ve got only teabags. I’m afraid—but I daresay you’ve had enough of tea leaves?”

Harry looked at him. Lupin’s eyes were twinkling.

“How did you know about that?” Harry asked.

“Professor McGonagall told me,” Lupin said, passing Harry a chipped mug of tea. “You’re not worried, are you?”

“No,” Harry said. He thought for a moment. “But there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“I’m assuming you are wondering why it was that I did not let you take on the boggart?” Lupin asked.

“Yes, sir,” Harry said.

“I would have thought that was obvious, Harry,” Lupin said, sounding surprised.

“Why?” Harry frowned. He was taken back; he did not think that Lupin would admit to doing it so freely.

“Well,” Lupin said, frowning slightly. “I assumed that if the boggart faced you, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort.”

Harry stared. Not only was this the last answer he’d expected, but Lupin had said Voldemort’s name. The only person he heard say Voldemort’s name was Professor Dumbledore. He had to hold back the giggle.

“Clearly, I was wrong,” Lupin said, still frowning at Harry. “But I didn’t think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the classroom. I imagined that would cause people to panic.”

“I wasn’t thinking of him,” Harry said honestly. “I—I remembered those dementors.”

“I see,” Lupin said thoughtfully. “Well, well … I’m impressed.”

He smiled slightly at the look of surprise on Harry’s face. “That suggests that what you fear most of all is—fear. Very wise, Harry.”

Harry did not know what to say to that, so he drank some tea. “So you’ve been thinking that I didn’t believe you capable of fighting the boggart?” Lupin asked shrewdly.

“Well, yeah,” Harry said. He was suddenly feeling a lot happier. “Professor Lupin, you know the dementors—” He was interrupted by a knock on the door, and a second later Professor Snape walked in carrying a goblet which was smoking faintly.

“Ah, Severus,” Lupin said, smiling. “Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?”

Snape set down the smoking goblet. “You should drink that directly, Lupin,” he said, sounding as though he wanted to be anywhere else.

“Thank you, I will,” Lupin said.

“I made an entire cauldronful. If you need more.”

“Yes, I should probably take some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus.”

Snape’s lip curled and he left without a word, only staring at Harry for a moment as he left. Harry looked at the goblet curiously. Lupin smiled.

“Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me,” he said. “I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex.” He picked up the goblet and sniffed it. “Pity sugar makes it useless,” he added, taking a sip and shuddering. He drained the goblet and shuddered. “Disgusting. I should get back to work. I’ll see you at the feast tonight, Harry.”

“Right,” Harry said and left. He ran back to the entrance hall only to see that everyone was gone. Filch was standing by the front door and glared at Harry.

“Where do you think you’re going, Potter?” he asked when Harry tried to go through the front doors.

“Hogsmeade.”

“No you’re not, you missed your chance,” Filch chuckled gleefully. “No sweats or butterbeer for you, boy.” His chuckles turned into a loud laugh and Harry frowned as he walked back to the dungeons. He just nodded to the older Slytherins who didn’t go and returned to his room where he pulled out his Marauder’s Map. If he could not go down to Hogsmeade, he might as well explore the castle and learn all of its hidden passages.

Harry’s friends did not return till the feast. “Where were you?” Pansy demanded. “I was left with Crabbe and Goyle by myself! Worse of all, I was with Millicent!”

“I wanted to talk with Professor Lupin but when I was done, Filch wouldn’t let me go,” Harry said, sounding a little bitter.

“What did you talk about?” Blaise asked curiously.

“Just about why he didn’t let me face the boggart,” Harry shrugged. He leaned forward and whispered, “He told me that he didn’t want it to turn into the Dark Lord, which is preposterous! I love my master not fear him.”

“Well, the world doesn’t know that,” Draco whispered, “and that’s a good thing. So what was the boggart going to turn into?”

“A dementor,” Harry frowned. “I couldn’t get it out of my mind.”

“Scary,” Draco whispered, shivering.

“Yeah, but anyway what did you guys do in Hogsmeade?” Harry asked, wanting to change the subject. His friends went on to talk animatedly about the many shops at Hogsmeade. Harry couldn’t help but feel a little jealous and made a promise to himself that he would not miss the next weekend, whenever that was.

The food at the feast was delicious, everyone having second helpings of everything. The Slytherins were all filled with a buzzing excitement that was easily hidden by Halloween cheer. Harry’s stomach started to roll as he thought about what he was going to do in now mere hours and he couldn’t help but grin widely. He was finally, finally, going to start his journey down the Dark Arts! He is going to tell his intent to Dark Magic and begin his two-year journey to become a Dark Wizard!

He couldn’t wait!

When the feast was over, the Slytherins returned to the dungeons and talked loudly and openly about what they were going to do. Harry and his friends talked about the rituals, Theo standing in front of them. “We can do it in pairs, or we can do it individually. Either way, after we declare our intent, we are allowed to ask for a favor or a wish from Dark Magic. This is usually a long-term goal you have or a reason of why you’re going down this path. Some say it aloud, but you can keep it between yourself and the Dark Magic,” Theo explained.

“Do you just have all the rituals memorized, Theo?” Blaise asked.

Theo’s cheeks darkened. “Maybe,” he muttered. “One day, I want to become the Voice of the Dark. I’ll need to know the rituals intimately for that.”

“Voice of the Dark?” Harry frowned. “What’s that?”

“Harry!” Theo gasped, sounding scandalized. “Only the most honored position in our community!”

“The Voice of the Dark is the closest position you can be to Dark Magic,” Daphne explained. “Theo’s going to be overlooking the rituals, especially during Yule and the Ritual of Announcement. He’s going to be a role model for future Dark Witches and Wizards.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Harry said, nodding. “How do you become one?”

“You’re either elected by the families or picked by Dark Magic itself,” Theo answered.

“All of our families decide,” Draco said. “They’ve picked one new one last year. I haven’t met him, but mother told me that he appeared very nice.”

“And he will look over our Ritual of Announcement, right?” Harry asked.

“Exactly,” Theo nodded. “He will help us fully announce ourselves to Dark Magic and our community.”

“Okay, I get it now,” Harry nodded. “Seems like a very important thing, I’m sure you’ll get it.”

“Thanks,” Theo said, smiling brightly.

The door to the common room opened and Professor Snape stepped in immediately. “All of you are to report to the Great Hall immediately,” he said.

Terrance Higgs stepped forward, “But Sir! Tonight—”

“These are orders from the headmaster. Follow,” Snape said. He turned and left the common room. The Slytherins looked at each other, confused and worried. Nobody wanted to move. Terrance seemed frozen for a long moment before the seventh year seemed to found his limbs once more. He turned to his housemates and cleared his throat. “You heard him,” he said grimly.

“But what about our rituals!?” Draco demanded.

“Don’t Malfoy. Not now. For now, we go to the Great Hall and find out what is going on,” Higgs said. The mood soured around them, and they all muttered nervously as they lined up.

As they entered the Great Hall, they saw that they were not the only ones. The Gryffindors were already there, and the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws soon arrived after. The students all muttered confused as Professor Dumbledore said loudly, “The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle. I’m afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately,” he added to Percy Weasley, who was looking immensely proud and important. “Send word with one of the ghosts.”

Professor Dumbledore paused, about to leave the hall, and said, “Oh, yes, you’ll be needing…”

One casual wave of his wand and the long tables flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls; another wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squishy purple sleeping bags. “Sleep well,” Professor Dumbledore said, closing the door behind him.

The hall immediately began to buzz excitedly; the Gryffindors were telling the rest of the school what just happened. Apparently, the entrance to their Tower was attacked by Sirius Black! Nobody knew why Black tried to force himself into Gryffindor, however, Harry couldn’t help but feel a sense of anger and dread when he heard his name being thrown around.

“This is horrible,” he whispered. “How are we supposed to go to the grounds?”

“Everyone into their sleeping bags!” Percy Weasley shouted. “Come on, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!”

“Shut up Weasley, you’re not the boss of us!” Higgs shot back.

“What is that Higgs? Do you want me to take points away?” Percy asked smugly. “I am Head Boy.”

“Head Boy of bastards maybe,” Higgs sneered. “Now shut up, we are talking!” He looked at the other Slytherins, who nodded as they followed him and Amelia Selwyn into a corner, crowding around the two. They talked in whispers, “What are we going to do?” Theo asked. “I can’t delay starting my journey!”

“And you won’t,” Higgs whispered. “All of you will be out celebrating tonight even if I need to stun everyone else here. We need to wait for our chance. Weasley can’t stay awake all night, can he? We’ll wait him out along with that girlfriend of his and sneak out. In the meantime, go tell our friends in Ravenclaw. Harry, I expect you to go tell the good Weasleys and Diggory.”

“When will we know when our chance will be?” Draco asked.

“When everyone else is asleep. So, do your best to stay awake,” Amelia whispered. “Get a sleeping bag, rest if you need to but do not fall asleep. We’ll wake you up when it’s time to go.” They all nodded and separated.

Harry felt completely awful, all of his excitement turning into anxiety as he glanced at the Gryffindors. He hated them at the moment and hated Sirius Black even more. He had to do this tonight, he had to try and find him tonight of all nights! He couldn’t have waited? Couldn’t have done it on not the most important night of his life? Stupid Black, when I see him I’ll show him how angry I am, he thought bitterly as he made his way to Fred, George, and Cedric.

“Harry! What’s going on?” Fred whispered. “What are we going to do?”

“Wait,” Harry whispered. “We are going to wait. Your brother can’t stay awake forever, yeah?”

“Harry,” Cedric whispered, “I have to go tonight.”

“I know Cedric, I know,” Harry whispered back. “Tonight’s my intent. We’ll be there, just trust me. Until then why don’t you guys—”

“Why are you whispering?” Ron Weasley’s voice demanded. Harry turned to face Ron, Granger, and Longbottom.

“We’re talking about how stupid Black is for assuming that I’m in Gryffindor,” Harry said, “after all only idiots and the simple-minded would have even thought that I would belong with the lions.” Ron’s face went red, and Harry smirked.

“Leave him,” Granger sighed. “He’s not worth it.”

“He won’t be so cocky when Black gets to him,” Ron muttered. Harry just stuck his tongue out as the three turned away from him.

Harry sighed as he turned back to his friends. “Sorry about that,” he said. “About the Gryffindor comments. Anyway, just wait. We’ll find a way just follow us when we move.”

“Got it,” Cedric nodded. He looked at George and said, “Come on baby, let’s try to find a private corner somewhere.” The two stood and left, stopping to grab two sleeping bags. Fred sighed and shook his head, “I’ll be fine,” he muttered. “See you at the grounds, Harry.”

Harry grabbed his own sleeping bag on the way back to his friends and the group of third years gathered together.

“The lights are going out now!” Percy Weasley shouted. “I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!”

The candles all went out at once. The only light now came from the silvery ghosts, who were drifting about talking seriously to the prefects, and the enchanted ceiling, which, like the sky outside, was scattered with stars.

Once every hour, a teacher would reappear in the hall to check that everything was quiet. Around midnight, when many students had fallen asleep, Professor Snape walked in. Harry saw that Higgs stepped towards him immediately. “Sir,” he whispered, “We need to go. It’s not fair.”

“Mr. Higgs, I understand that Halloween Night is important for a variety of reasons, however, my hands are tied,” Snape whispered. He glanced at Percy Weasley who still stood valent. “I cannot send an entire House out of the great hall with Black on the loose and eyes on all of you.”

“Then not everyone,” Higgs whispered. “Just those who need to perform a ritual for their journey, and they will return right after.”

Snape was silent for a moment. He looked around the Great Hall for a moment and nodded. “Fine. Those who need to perform a ritual only.”

Higgs nodded and turned to Amelia who nodded as well. She knelt by the fifth years and whispered to them before moving onto others. Higgs, meanwhile, turned to Percy Weasley and the Head Girl and whipped his wand quickly when the two were distracted. A white haze developed around them, and they both slumped to the floor, snoring softly. “Only a little more than an hour, just to make sure,” Higgs whispered. He nodded to the others and Harry finally stood up.

Harry looked around to see Cedric and the twins standing as well and he turned to join his friends. “Potter!?” Snape hissed. He stared at Harry, looking almost heartbroken. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to do my ritual, what else, sir?” Harry whispered. “I’m sorry but I have only an hour.” Snape, stunned silent, only watched as Harry left with the rest of the budding Dark Wizards.

“There’s no time so I’m leading you all to Slytherin’s door,” Higgs said as they all took the stairs down to the dungeons. “Keep up everyone! We’ve only an hour!” They ran down the corridors until they reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room. For a moment Harry thought that they would go in, but instead, Higgs tapped the entrance twice and pushed. “Let’s go.”

They all stepped out into the ritual grounds, the clearing deep in the Forbidden Forest that always made Harry feel a sense of ease. Harry and the other third-year Slytherins all moved towards the side as Blaise and Theo started to make their ritual circles. Draco moved towards Blaise as Daphne moved to Theo. Crabbe and Goyle made their own as Millicent and Pansy made their own individual circles. Harry stretched and started to make his own, Blaise joining him to help Harry summon the seven candles needed. Harry pulled out a knife from his pocket and took a breath. “Seven candles for seven holidays,” he muttered to himself as he pricked himself with the knife. He knelt down in front of each candle, letting the blood drip down into the small cup of the candle before moving to the next. He looked around to see how the rest was doing before turning back to his own ritual.

He waved his wand and the candles around his ritual circle all lit, giving off a deeply red flame. Harry felt a sense of thrill fill him. He was finally doing it! Harry pointed his wand to the center and another flame appeared, burning without any source. “I stand as a circle never-ending and eternal. I stand here with magic, never-ending and eternal. I am here to present myself to Dark Magic and let my will flow through it as its magicks flow through me. My name is Harry Potter! I stand at the precipice of my journey, and I ask that you accept me.” The red flames started to flicker, and Harry took a breath. “Guide my thoughts, actions, and words. Let the Dark consume my core though it may have Light, I will be your vessel and instrument. Please accept my plea and watch over me as I descend into your dark embrace!”

The candles all flared and in the center, the fire turned into a deep purple, mixing with almost black, its smoke was changing colors as well as it hovered. It smelled sweet and made Harry smile lightly. The smoke moved towards Harry and began caressing him. It felt strange like strong hands holding him, touching him. He gave a soft moan, his penis starting to harden as a deep male voice whispered in his head “My sweet child, I can see your desires. Tell me your secrets and use my power to achieve them.”  Harry moaned softly as he thought, I want to be a man Tom can be proud of to call his husband. Give me the power to protect him as much as I love him. The smoke returned slowly back to the flames and Harry’s cheeks blushed deeply. The fire continued to burn, growing darker and darker until it did not extinguish, but appeared to simply return to the dark, black void.

Harry’s smile continued as he finished the ritual, pointing his wand at the circle.  “By the Dark, I thank and praise you for granting me this power. This humble wizard thank you for allowing him to step into your embrace. I swear to give my thoughts, words, and actions in your Name and do honor to it through my deeds. As I start my path, I know you will be with me. Even when I am alone, I know that I will always be with Dark Magic, and so I will always be with those who are connected through your power. With my duty done and my goal achieved, I praise and thank you, Dark Magic, endless and eternal, and so I close my circle.”

Harry walked around slowly and blew the candles out one by one. When he was done, he collected the seven candles and looked at his friends. Most of them were already done. They were just waiting for Theo and Daphne. Their ritual circle had two sources of fire, both burning a beautiful purple that extinguished the next second. Theo finished the ritual as Daphne went around and collect the candles. She looked at the circle and sighed, apparently lost in her own world as she said, “I wish to be comfortable in my own body.”

A harsh laugh broke her spell. Everyone turned to see Millicent standing, smirking at Daphne, “Good joke!” she laughed. “Comfortable in your own body? Daphne, you are skinny! How much more comfortable do you need to be? You lucky bitch!” she laughed some more and everyone looked around awkwardly. Daphne just stared at Millicent and started to shake.

She dropped the candles just as fat tears started to fall from her face. Sobbing, Daphne ran towards the shacks, everyone watching her stunned. “Daph!” Theo yelled and ran after her.

Harry and the others turned to Millicent, who was still chuckling. “What?” she said, “It was just a joke.”

“Your whole existence is a joke, Bulstrode,” Harry sneered. “Pansy, help me with the candles.” He and Pansy silently bent to pick up the candles Daphne dropped as the rest just glared hatefully at Millicent. “It was a joke!” she said again, “By the dark, you all are too sensitive.”

“I think you should leave,” Blaise said threateningly, his wand still out.

Millicent sneered, “Whatever,” she said. “You’re all a bunch of stupid faeries and softies.” She turned and left.

Harry sighed and looked up only to see that they were being watched. A large black dog was staring curiously at them. Harry and the dog’s eyes met and for some reason, the dog looked sad. Harry turned his head slightly to the side, but the dog kept staring sadly at him. “Harry, we have to go.” Harry turned to see Blaise waiting for him. He turned back to the dog only to find that it was gone. It was then that Professor Trelawney’s words played in Harry’s head. “You have… the Grim! It is an omen—the worst omen—death!” He pushed it out of his mind, not wanting to acknowledge the small sliver of fear developing.

Harry stood up straight and joined the others. He looked over his shoulder in hopes of seeing the dog again, but only saw trees. “That damn Bulstrode, who does she think she is acting like that?” Pansy muttered. “Ruined my perfect day!”

“And poor Daphne,” Blaise hummed, “She looked absolutely devastated. I hope she’s alright.”

“Bulstrode won’t be when I’m through with her,” Draco muttered. “I swear if I could, I won’t even let her see Yule!”

“Let’s just focus on making sure Daphne is okay,” Harry said.

“I’ll make her a blanket,” Crabbe offered.

“And I’ll make sweets,” Goyle added, “It’s been a long time since I made something.”

Harry nodded and smile, “She’ll love that, I’m sure.” He took Draco’s hand as they neared the Slytherin’s shack and walked slowly, “We don’t do anything without my master’s permission, understand?”

“We?”

“I’m doing it too,” Harry whispered. “Remember, I’m the Dark Prince, Draco, and Millicent Bulstrode just made me angry.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 34

A Prince’s Justice

Daphne did not talk to anyone besides Theo. They tried to comfort her and tell her how awful Millicent was, but Daphne refused to tell them why she was feeling so uncomfortable. She still wore the baggy, heavy robes and seemed to only smile at Theo who always sat next to her.

That didn’t mean that she didn’t talk to them at all, but for some reason whenever they tried to probe, Harry and Pansy most of all, Daphne would get silent while Theo would suddenly get defensive, especially when Millicent Bulstrode would come into view. However, she stayed away from the group for the last few days and Harry would sometimes blissfully forget that she even existed.

It was now almost a week after Samhain, and Harry was with Theo and Blaise in the common room, a piece of parchment in front of him. He finally had the chance to write to Tom as he told the two about what the Weasley Twins just told him. “Apparently Black slashed up the portrait to their common room, yeah? Well now they have a replacement, and everyone hates him!” he said. “Fred told me that this new Portrait, a knight or something, changes the password almost daily! And Longbottom actually took to writing them down.”

“No way!” Blaise laughed. “And they allow this?”

“Their regular portrait refuses to come back,” Harry snorted. “Anyway, I’m a bit stuck, I want to tell my mentor about this but how should I that will not make him come down here immediately?”

“Didn’t you just have this problem with that hippogriff?” Theo asked, frowning slightly. “Two times in two months? I’m not sure if even the Dark Lord can handle that.”

“I know! Which is why I need to be careful,” Harry muttered. “He knows that I’m capable enough to handle Black—but still maybe it would be better if I don’t include Black at all in the letter.”

“Yeah, that sounds best,” Theo said with Blaise nodding in agreement. Harry picked up his quill and wrote to Tom, going into great detail about everything that happened since last he wrote and Samhain, including everything he did and saw as well as seeing the dog and what Millicent did. He asked for permission to punish her and signed the letter before charming it to be private and setting it to the side.

Just as he finished, Professor Snape walked into the common room and looked down at Harry. “Potter, with me.”

Harry looked at his friends, worried and confused for a moment, before standing up and taking the letter with him. Snape led him silently into his office. “Sit.” He commanded as he walked around his desk. Harry did so and looked at his Head of House.

“Is something the matter, sir?” Harry asked.

“Several things,” Snape said, “The most problematic one being your stunt on Halloween. What you are doing is very stupid, as well as very dangerous boy. It is a direct insult to your mother—”

“I’m sorry sir, but are you talking about Samhain when I did my Ritual of Intent?” Harry asked.

“Yes! Do you even know what you are playing at, Potter?” Snape asked. “Your friends have a full knowledge and understanding of what is going on, but you—you do not even know where it all begins.”

“But sir, I do know,” Harry frowned. “And shouldn’t you as well, after all, aren’t you a…”

“I am the Head of Slytherin House and your Potions Professor, Mr. Potter,” Snape snarled angrily. “Do not begin to assume things you know nothing about.”

Harry looked at him for a moment and sighed. “But sir, I do know what I’m doing. Completely so. You know that I live with my guardian, so where do you think I’ve learned it from?” Harry asked.

Snape balked at Harry. “You,” he began to say before clearing his throat and turning stony-faced. “Then let me tell you the other matter. This may be of a shock to you, but Sirius Black wishes to murder you.”

“I know,” Harry said. Snape raised an eyebrow. Harry just smiled.

“Very well, then you will understand that I will have to cancel your evening Quidditch practices. You are too exposed,” Snape drawled. “As well as your Hogsmeade visits.”

“Sir! You can’t do that! We have our first match on Saturday!” Harry said, outraged. “I’ve got to train, Professor! And going to Hogsmeade is my right—”

“It is a privilege that can be revoked quite easily,” Snape snarled. “Do not forget that you are still only thirteen, Potter. Even if you believe you are much… stronger than you actually are.”

Harry glared at him and crossed his arms. “I am not giving up Quidditch practice,” he said stubbornly.

“Then do so at your own risk,” Snape said. “And just know that if Black appears and stuns you out of the sky, I will simply watch the consequences of your idiocy. That is all.”

Harry stood up and left, muttering to himself angrily as he decided to just go to the owlery and mail the letter before returning to his friends.

The weather worsened steadily as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. The Slytherin team continued their training uninterrupted. The day before the match, the winds reached a howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit. Harry took to using his fire orbs as a personal light for himself and his friends, earning himself an extra point for Slytherin whenever Professor Flitwick caught him summoning more and more orbs with excellent control.

Harry almost dropped his fire, however, when he stepped into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom only to see that Professor Lupin wasn’t there standing behind the desk, it was Snape.

“Put out your flames, Potter,” Snape said.

The flames deflated almost sadly until they puttered out. “Where is Professor Lupin?” Harry asked.

“He says he is feeling too ill to teach today,” Snape said with a twisted smile. “I believe I told you to sit down.”

No, you didn’t, Harry thought however he had a feeling he was already on Snape’s bad side since their conference in Snape’s office so Harry just said nothing as he sat down. The Gryffindors all came in after and loudly protested at the sight of Snape. “Sit down,” Snape said, “Twenty points from Gryffindor for a lack of manners.”

That only gotten the Gryffindors to grumble even more as the Slytherins snickered. When everyone was seated and quiet, Professor Snape said, “Professor Lupin has failed to leave any record of the topics you have covered so far—”

“Please, sir, we’ve done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows,” Hermione Granger said quickly, “and we’re just about to start—”

“Be quiet,” Snape said coldly. “I did not ask for information. I was merely commented on Professor Lupin’s lack of organization.”

“He’s the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had,” Dean Thomas said boldly, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the class. Snape looked more menacing than ever.

“You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you—I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows. Today we shall discuss—”

Snape flicked through the textbook to the very back chapter.

“—werewolves,” Snape said.

“But sir,” Granger said, seemingly unable to restrain herself, “we’re not supposed to do werewolves yet, we’re due to start hinky-punks!”

“Miss Granger,” Snape said in a voice of deadly calm, “I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394.” He glanced around the classroom. “Now.”

Draco couldn’t help but smirk at the sidelong looks the Gryffindors were giving as they opened their textbooks. “Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between an Animagus and a werewolf?

Without fail, Granger had her hand up and Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “No one? How disappointing.”

“Please sir,” Granger said, “An Animagus is a wizard who elects to turn into an animal. The werewolf has no choice. With the full moon when he transforms he no longer remembers who he is. He’ll kill his best friend if he crosses his path.”

“That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger. Are you incapable of restraining yourself or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?” Snape said coldly. “Five points from Gryffindor. As an antidote to your ignorance and on my desk by Monday morning, two rows of parchment on the werewolf on particular emphasis on recognizing and killing it.”

The class groaned and Harry and Draco looked at each other. It was Quidditch tomorrow and now they have to worry about this long assignment. Snape then began giving his lecture on werewolves with the class taking notes. No one made a sound throughout the rest of the lesson. When the bell rang, Harry and Draco were the first ones of their friends out. “He can’t be serious,” Draco said, “punishing us because of Granger’s know-it-all?”

“I know,” Harry said, “how am I supposed to finish this as well as everything else on Sunday?”

“Well, better start writing tonight,” Blaise said when he caught up and patted Harry’s back. “You too Dray, I refuse for you to slack off in homework or Quidditch because of one or the other.” He grinned as Draco groaned and complained the rest of the way to the common room.

Strange enough, they found a black owl sitting calmly next to Salazar on the mantle. When it saw Harry, it stuck out its leg. “How did an owl get inside here?” Harry asked as he went towards the two animals. “You haven’t tried eating it, have you?” he asked Salazar.

“It is too big,” Salazar said with a lazy hiss. Harry looked at the owl and took the letter cautiously. “Thank you,” he said.

The owl hooted twice and flew off, seemingly disappearing into the shadows. Harry stood for a second before gathering Salazar up and returning to his friends. He sat down, gave Salazar to Draco, and stared at the letter as Salem jumped into his lap. “Who is that from?” Pansy asked.

Harry looked it over and recognized the handwriting immediately. “Him,” he said, and the mood around them seemed to become tense.

“Well… open it,” Pansy said.

Harry nodded and opened Voldemort’s letter and started to read it.

My little snake,

I am glad to hear about your Ritual of Intent. Feeling that rush of magic fill you, committing your life and magic to the True Way of the Dark Arts, it is one of the most euphoric feelings in the world. I am proud that you get to finally feel it and take your first official step into the Dark Arts. It’s strange, when I look back at all we have been through, I could always sense Dark Magic budding inside you, and now it is time to see it flourish and you bloom into the powerful and handsome Dark Wizard I know you will be. I cannot wait for Yule, my lovely boy, not only for your second ritual but also so we can finally be together once more. I already have plans for that day, and I cannot wait to experience them with you.

But that is in December. For now, we must deal with another situation. Millicent Bulstrode. I know what you are feeling. I can sense it even here, my little Horcrux. You are angry. Hateful. You want to see Bulstrode suffer. To hear her pitiful pleas before giving way to dying screams. You want revenge. However, I command you to stay your wand. It is ill-fitting to kill just because someone made you angry, especially at your age and stage. You and Malfoy are to do nothing to Bulstrode, is this understood? Your first lesson must be restraint. There is a time for you to strike and a time for you to do nothing. You must learn this.

If I hear about any serious injury or death dealt to Millicent Bulstrode, no matter how justified it would be, then Harry I would be severely disappointed. However, I know that you’re a good boy. You’re my good boy. My little snake. My Dark Prince.

I cannot wait until I can show you just how much you are mine.

Your Loving Master,

Tom

For the first time, Harry felt angry at Tom’s letter. Do nothing? Do nothing! Millicent Bulstrode made Daphne cry to the point where she won’t tell her friends what is wrong, and Tom wants them to do nothing!? Harry couldn’t accept that.

“What does it say?”

Draco’s words snapped Harry out of his angry thoughts for a moment. He looked up to see all of his friends looking at him. “Oh, uh, he’s just happy to hear that Samhain went well and he cannot wait to see me on Yule,” Harry said.

“Yule!? The Dark Lord is going to be there?” Pansy whispered, sounding half excited and half nervous. “Will we know?”

“He changed a lot since the first war,” Harry said, “So I don’t know.” He looked at Draco and licked his lips nervously. “Also Draco,” he said, his heart pounding as he pleaded mentally for Tom to forgive him, “we’ve been given permission.”

A sly evil grin grew on Draco Malfoy’s face. “Good,” he purred.

“Just—nothing too serious yet,” Harry stressed.

“Oh, I can work with that,” Draco chuckled. “We should take our time Harry, let her almost forget about the incidence, and then ruin her! We can even make it so that some other students in different houses do it I think.”

“Yeah, as long as she gets what’s coming,” Harry nodded.

Daphne looked between them, “Guys?” she said hesitantly. “What are you talking about?”

“How to get revenge on Bulstrode,” Draco answered easily. “The toad has it coming. She insulted you!”

Daphne didn’t look happy. She just looked down at her lap and nervously picked at her fingers. “I—I know, and thank you but… I don’t want you to bother with it. It’s not worth it.”

“Of course it is!” Harry said passionately. “You’re our friend Daphne, we would do anything for you. Millicent was wrong! She ruined your special night and has always been mean. She needs to suffer the consequences.”

Daphne continued to frown, looking unconvinced. “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” she said softly.

“Daph, they’re right,” Theo said, surprising Harry. “She needs to face consequences, and you are worthy of this. I’ll watch over them, so they don’t go too far, is that okay?’ Daphne looked at Theo for a moment and nodded, smiling softly. She reached for his hand and squeezed it, causing Theo to grin brightly. “Then it’s decided,” he said.

“Great!” Harry said, “then we can talk after Quidditch!”

The next day brought with it a fierce storm. Harry felt strangely excited, he loved playing in storms. Especially since Blaise taught him the charm to keep his glasses from getting wet and fogging up. The team changed into their emerald robes and Flint gave his usual “Let’s show Wood what we Slytherins are made of” speech before beckoning them to follow. The wind was so strong that they staggered sideways as they walked out onto the field. If the crowd was cheering, they couldn’t hear it over the rolls of thunder. The rain just splashed off of Harry’s glasses and he couldn’t help but smirk confidently as he straddled his Nimbus 2001. Wood and Flint shook hands, Madam Hooch blew her whistle—and they were off!

Harry rose fast, but his Nimbus was swerving slightly with the wind. He held it as steady as he could and turned, squinting into the rain.

Within five minutes Harry was soaked to his skin and frozen, hardly able to see his teammates let alone the Snitch. He flew backward and forward, barely able to hear the commentary over the wind. The crowd was hidden beneath a sea of cloaks and battered umbrellas.

He lost track of time. It was getting harder and harder to hold his broom straight. The sky was getting darker, as though night had decided to come early. Harry barely was able to swing out the way from Bludgers and other players.

There was a clap of thunder, followed immediately by forked lightning. The game was getting more and more dangerous. Harry needed to get the Snitch quickly—

He turned, intended to head back toward the middle of the field, but at that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the stands, and Harry saw something that distracted him completely—the silhouette of an enormous shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, motionless in the topmost, empty row of seats.

Harry’s numb hands slipped on the broom handle and his Nimbus 2001 dropped a few feet. Shaking his sodden bangs out of his eyes, he squinted back into the stands. The dog had vanished.

“Come on Potter! My hair is ruined! Finish the Game!” Came Draco’s anguished yell.

Harry looked around and saw a flash of gold shimmering in the rain-filled air. “Come on!” he growled at his broom as the rain whipped his face and he threw himself flat to the broom handle.

The Gryffindor Seeker saw the Snitch as well and zoomed towards it, chasing after Harry. But something odd was happening. An eerie silence was falling across the stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. It was as though someone had turned off the sound, as though Harry had gone suddenly deaf.

And then a horribly familiar wave of old swept over him, inside him, just as he became aware of something moving around him.

At least a hundred dementors, their hidden faces pointed up at him, were standing beneath him. It was as though freezing water was rising in his chest, cutting at his insides. And then he heard it again. Someone was screaming, screaming inside his head.

“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!”

“Stand aside. Stand aside, now…”

“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead…”

Numbing, swirling white mist was filling Harry’s brain. He should save her but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything. He was falling.

A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming, and Harry knew no more.

People were whispering around him but their voices made no sense. He didn’t have a clue on where he was or how he’d got there, or what he’d been doing before. All he knew was that every inch of him was aching as though it has been beaten.

“That was the scariest thing I’ve ever saw in my life.”

Scariest… the scariest thing… hooded black figures… cold… screaming…

Harry’s eyes snapped open. He was lying in the hospital wing. The Slytherin Quidditch team, splattered with mud from head to foot, was gathered around his bed. His friends were also there, looking as though they’d just climbed out of a swimming pool. “What happened?” he asked.

“You fell off,” Blaise said, sitting on Harry’s bed. “Fifty feet.”

“We thought you died,” Flint grunted.

“It was so scary—and the dementors were there—I couldn’t believe it,” Pansy said.

“The game—what about the game?” Harry asked. “We didn’t lose, did we?”

“Gryffindor won,” Draco said bitterly. “Their Seeker got the Snitch just after you fell. We tried to argue for a rematch, but Wood refused.”

“Cheating bastard,” Flint muttered. He stared at Harry for a moment. “You better pray to the Dark for us to win. It’s all a matter of points now.” Harry just nodded and looked down at his lap. For the first time, he lost the Snitch. It didn’t feel good. Madam Pomfrey came over to tell the team to leave him in peace. Daphne, Theo, and Blaise left with them as Pansy and Draco stayed.

“I never seen Dumbledore look so angry,” Pansy said, looking very shaken. “He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wands at the Dementors, shot a silver mist and they just ran away.”

“At least the old fool is good for something,” Harry muttered. “Guessing it was he who brought me here?” The two nodded and Harry sighed. “Do me a favor? Please don’t write to my Master about this. I don’t want him to worry.”

Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harry in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend. He didn’t argue or complain. He had a stream of visitors, Fred and George came with Cedric and the twins told Harry how they tried to convince Wood on getting a rematch, but he kept on refusing, stating that they needed to win this year, his final year. Cedric sighed as he looked around and wrapped an arm around George’s waist. “I get winning, but honestly he seems obsessed with it,” he sighed. “But hey, good news Harry is that at least your broom didn’t break, eh? I personally can’t wait to play against Slytherin.” He grinned. Harry just nodded and did his best to offer a smile. His mind couldn’t leave the voice he heard. He knew now without a doubt that it was his mother and the Dark Lord he was hearing. He knew what happened, he was told so specifically by his master, but to actually hear it, it made Harry hesitant. Not enough to fall off the path he was taking or throw away his love for Tom, far from it, however, Harry felt that he just needed to talk to Tom face to face, and he wouldn’t have that option until Yule which felt like forever away.

It was a relief to return to the noise and bustle of the main school on Monday, where he was forced to think about new things, even if he had to endure Ron Weasley’s taunting. He kept going over how Harry fell off his broom, imitating it to the few Gryffindors who would laugh with him. Professor Lupin was thankfully back at work when they walked in, and even better he excused the homework that Professor Snape assigned. He taught them about hinkypunks, a little one-legged creature who looked as though he was made of wisps of smoke, rather frail and harmless-looking. That was until it made a horrible squelching noise against the glass.

When the bell rung, Harry stayed behind. “Ah Harry, I heard about the match,” Professor Lupin said.

“Did you hear about the dementors?” Harry said with difficulty.

Lupin looked at him quickly. “Yes, I did, I don’t think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time … furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds. … I suppose they were the reason you fell?”

“Yes,” Harry said. He hesitated, and then the question he had to ask burst from him before he could stop himself. “Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just—?”

“It has nothing to do with weakness,” Professor Lupin said sharply, as though he had read Harry’s mind. “The dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don’t have.”

A ray of wintery sunlight fell across the classroom, illuminating Lupin’s gray hairs and the lines on his young face.

“Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can’t see them. Get too near a dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself… soulless and evil. You’ll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that happened to you, Harry, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of.”

“When they get near me—” Harry stared at Lupin’s desk, his throat tight. “I can hear the Dark Lord murdering my mother.”

Lupin made a sudden motion with his arm as though to grip Harry’s shoulder, but thought better of it. There was a moment’s silence, then—”

“There has to be a way for me to defend myself against them,” Harry said. He looked up at Professor Lupin, “You were able to make the dementor in the train back off.”

“There are certain defenses one can use,” Lupin said. “But there was only one dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist.”

“What defenses?” Harry asked at once. “Can you teach me?”

“I don’t pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors, Harry… quite the contrary…”

“But if the dementors come to another Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them—”

Lupin looked into Harry’s determined face, hesitated, then said, “Well … all right. I’ll try and help. But it’ll have to wait until next term, I’m afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays, I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill.”

“Of course,” Harry nodded. He smiled and said, “It’s funny, sir, but you just reminded me of my mentor.”

“Oh? Have I?” Professor Lupin asked. “I didn’t know you had a mentor, Harry.”

“I do, he’s also my guardian,” Harry nodded. “He raised me since I was seven. He helped me a lot. In fact, it was because of him that I learned how to do this.” He snapped his fingers and an orb of light appeared, its colors blending and shifting into beautiful rainbows. “I can also make them out of just fire.”

“Ah, I’ve heard about your fire magic,” Professor Lupin nodded, “That is very powerful magic, Harry. I don’t think I even recognize it. Your guardian must be a great man to teach you all of this.”

“He is,” Harry said honestly. “I don’t know where I would be without him. He took me out of a horrible situation.”

“Then, I’m honored that you compare me to him, Harry,” Professor Lupin smiled. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 35

Hogsmeade and Puberty

Harry wrote a letter to Tom, telling him about the dementor attack as well as Professor Lupin’s promise to teach him a spell to defend himself against them. Tom’s reply came a week later, giving praise to Harry about his innovation and wishing him luck before ending the letter with another promise to see Harry on Yule.

With the promise of anti-dementor lessons from Lupin and the thought that he might never have to hear his mother’s death again, Harry’s mood took a definite upturn. Better yet, Daphne seemed to be opening up to them once more, talking with them easily once more and sitting somewhat more relaxed as December came. Harry saw no hint of a dementor within the grounds. Dumbledore’s anger seemed to be keeping them at their stations at the entrances.

Two weeks before the end of the term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were revealed one morning covered in glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Flitwick had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. The students were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays. Harry was once again staying at Hogwarts for the holidays, much to his and his friends’ disappointment, however, he wouldn’t be alone as they learned that Nathen Davis, a fifth year, was staying as well. That, along with many promises that they will see each other during Yule, finally convinced his friends not to kidnap him once the term ended.

To everyone’s delight, there was to be another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of the term. On the day of the trip, to make sure that he did not miss it, Harry made sure to have his heavy cloak and scarf ready, as well as escort his friends to the front of the line when they were done with breakfast.

There was thick swirling snow outside, and Harry huddled with Draco and Blaise as the group went down the path to Hogsmeade, talking excitedly about their Yule shopping as Draco listed the shops that Harry just had to visit.

Hogsmeade reminded Harry of an old muggle Christmas card. The little thatched cottages and shops were all covered in a layer of crisp snow; there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees. Blaise took Harry’s hand and grinned as he dragged Harry to a shop called Honeydukes. “You’re going to love it in here Harry,” he grinned as they went inside.

There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougats, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-colored toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavor Beans and another of Fizzing Whizbees. Harry and Blaise squeezed themselves through a crowd of sixth years, the others pushing in after. “I gotta show you my favorite chocolate Harry,” Blaise said, not letting go of Harry’s hand. They shuffled around the crowded shop and Blaise pulled down bars of chocolate from Japan as well as others that advertised of having real coconuts in it. “You have to try it!” Blaise grinned. “Ohh and there’s this lollipop that tastes of your favorite dessert! Draco and I had ten of them last time we were here, right Dray?” Blaise turned to Draco.

Draco nodded, and crossed his arms, “Yeah,” he muttered. “We did.” His eyes fell towards Harry and Blaise’s hands then looked up and caught Harry staring at him. His cheeks turned red, and he turned away. Harry felt a little awkward but turned back to the candy.

“So, this is your favorite?” Harry asked as he picked up the coconut-flavored chocolate bars.

“Yeah,” Blaise nodded. Harry took several more and smiled, “Then I’ll try one for myself,” he said.

“Harry, you have seven bars,” Blaise pointed out.

“I know,” Harry hummed. He looked around and gasped, “My mentor loves these!” he said. He went to what looked like more older candies with caramel. He took a bag and grinned, thinking that it would be a nice treat to go along with his real gift. He went around the packed store and somehow gotten his arms full of treats and candy bars before he decided that he had more than enough and purchased them all and shouldered himself outside the shop where he saw Pansy, Theo, and Daphne waiting.

“What took you so long?” Pansy demanded. Harry just lifted his bag as an answer. “Why did you buy so much? Don’t you care about your figure?”

“They’re not all for me!” Harry shot back. “Some are for others. Small treats I thought would go good with their Yule presents.”

“That’s very sweet Harry,” Daphne smiled. She looked extremely comfortable as she and Theo stood very close to each other. Harry just smiled before readjusting his scarf.

“Where should we go next?” he asked as Draco and Blaise walked out. “It’s a bit cold.”

“You have to see the Shrieking Shack, it’s very creepy,” Draco said.

“The Shrieking Shack?” Harry said questionably.

“I rather get back inside somewhere,” Blaise complained.

“It’ll be quick,” Draco said quickly and he took Harry’s gloved hand. “Come on,” he said and he tugged Harry along.

Harry just shrugged and went along with it, quickly matching Draco’s stride. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You seem a bit jumpy.”

“I’m not jumpy,” Draco said quickly, “I just want to show my best friend something. That a crime now, Potter?” Harry frowned and said nothing. Draco sighed and squeezed Harry’s hand. He looked over his shoulder and muttered, “Sorry. Just, Harry I just wanted to talk with you alone.”

“Ohh, okay,” Harry said. He waited for Draco to elaborate but the blond didn’t. Instead, the two walked on down a dirt path that led away from the main street. The dirt road curved until it reached an overlook with a short path that led to an abandoned house.

“They say that it’s haunted,” Draco said. “The villagers used to hear screaming from inside it. Thing is, it doesn’t have any doors leading in.”

“Huh,” Harry hummed. The two leaned against the fenced overlook and stared out at the shack. “So, what was it that you wanted to talk about?”

Draco sighed. He looked down at his hands and fidgeted for a moment. “I wanted to ask about you, honestly. I wanted to ask when was the first time you realized you were in love with the Dark Lord.”

Both their cheeks turned redder from the cold and embarrassment. “Ohh,” Harry said. He hummed and looked out at the shrieking shack. “I think I was always in love with him, but in different ways,” Harry said. “Hey, if I tell you something, will you promise to keep it to yourself?”

“Of course Harry, anything,” Draco swore. Harry looked at him for a second and smiled.

“Tom,” he said. “That’s my master’s name. Tom. Like I said, I think looking back I was always in love with him, but in different stages. When he first saved me, I started to love him as a mentor and guardian, someone who taught me about our world and kept me safe from the muggles. We talked and learned more about each other, and when I was ten or eleven, something strange happened. There was this gay couple, two men who looked to be in their twenties or thirties, and there was this asshole yelling at them. This was also my first time actually seeing a gay couple, funny enough. Anyway, this asshole was just yelling at them, and I stepped in to stop him. He slapped me before running away, and the couple and I talked, they were making sure I was okay. Just seeing them made my heart feel weird, and when they asked if there was someone special in my life, all I could think of was Tom.”

“What happened to the asshole?” Draco asked.

“I chased after him and burned his face,” Harry hummed. He snapped his fingers and held out his pointer as an orb of fire appeared. He gave Draco a cheeky grin.

Draco chuckled and shook his head ruefully.

“That was also the same day I learned Tom’s name, I was just calling him Lord Voldemort before,” Harry said, dismissing his fire.

Draco gasped. “You were calling the Dark Lord by his name? Are you insane?”

“Maybe, but it’s worth it,” Harry smiled. “Anyway, over time Tom told me about his life and his time at Hogwarts all those years ago. Did you know that he was in love?”

“Honestly, I didn’t even think the Dark Lord could love,” Draco said.

“Well, he can, and he did,” Harry said. “He had another boyfriend, another little snake. Honestly, I’m still a bit jealous of him, Adrian, however whenever Tom compares me to him and says just how much I am like Adrian or reminds him of him, it makes me happy strange enough. Someone needs to be there for Tom, I think. Adrian couldn’t, and so it’s up to me to watch out for him.”

“What happened to him? This Adrian person?” Draco asked.

“He passed away,” Harry frowned. “He was sick and died when his father separated the two. Tom was so heartbroken. They both just graduated Hogwarts when it happened.”

“That’s awful,” Draco said.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “Sometimes, I wish I could have met him. I saw him once in a memory. He’s very beautiful, I’m a little jealous actually.”

“Why? You’re beautiful too Harry,” Draco said honestly. “Your hair, the shape of your face and eyes, you’re turning into a very beautiful person.”

Harry blinked and looked away, blushing. “Thanks,” he stuttered, “I think you’re beautiful too.”

“Thank you,” Draco blushed. The two blushed in silence for a moment before Harry cleared his throat.

“Anyway, after that my feelings for Tom changed, I just want to be with him. To hold his hand, kiss him on the lips, and just live with him if that makes sense. He’s always on my mind, even if I don’t show it,” Harry said shyly. “In fact, one of my biggest dreams is being in his arms and just stay there. For an hour, for a lifetime, I don’t know, but as long as I’m in Tom’s arms, I know that everything will be okay.”

“I see,” Draco muttered. “Thank you, Harry,” he said. He turned to Harry and looked absolutely fearful. “Thing is, I’ve been feeling something strange for some time. For a guy. But I’m scared to admit it. Because if Father hears, I’m honestly scared of what he’ll say or do.”

Harry immediately grabbed Draco’s arm and pulled him into a hug. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I have you. If Mr. Malfoy even dares to do anything—anything at all, then you’ll come to me, okay? But honestly, I don’t see what’s wrong.”

“I’m… Harry, I’m g…” Draco struggled with the word. He took a breath and said in one breath, “I’m gay Harry, I can’t have kids!”

Harry held him tighter, but he couldn’t help but smile, “Is that all?” he asked.

“Harry you don’t understand, with our families we have a duty to continue them,” Draco stressed. “As family heirs, we have the responsibility to make sure that the family lives on.”

“Well, then you or whoever you love will get pregnant,” Harry said. “There’s this method in Japan that I want to learn more about. They’re able to get men pregnant, and honestly, I wouldn’t mind it, you know? I mean not until I’m way older obviously, but being able to carry Tom and my child? The thought excites me.”

Draco pushed back slightly to stare at Harry. “You’re not joking, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” Harry said. “Tom and I are going to go there during the summer before our sixth year.”

Draco nodded and looked shyly at Harry. “Do you think you can…”

“I’ll tell you everything I learn, I promise,” Harry said. Draco smiled and seemed to relax.

“Thank you,” he whispered and hugged Harry. “I just wanted to talk to you and tell you before I tell the others,” he said.

“No problem,” Harry said, “I’m always here for you. Though I think we should head back, it’s kind of really cold.”

“Yeah, we should,” Draco chuckled. They smiled and walked away from the shrieking shack. The others were waiting at the start of the road, Pansy crossing her arms when she saw them. “What was that about?” she demanded.

“Just seeing the sights,” Harry hummed. “Come on, I’m thirsty, is there a place to drink around here?”

“The Three Broomsticks!” Blaise said, “I’ll show you.”

Harry smiled and took Draco’s hand. “Well, lead on,” he said. Blaise stared at Harry for a second before grinning. They walked down the street with crowded shops and homes and either side of them. Down the road, there was a tiny inn that they entered. It was extremely crowded, noisy, and smoky. A curvy sort of woman with a pretty face was serving a bunch of rowdy warlocks up at the bar.

“That is Madam Rosmerta,” Blaise said, “she owns this place.”

They all piled into a booth with Harry, Draco, and Blaise on one side and Theo, Daphne, and Pansy on the other. Once again Harry couldn’t help but notice that Daphne and Theo were sitting very close to each other. “I’ll go get our drinks,” Blaise said as he slid out. He came back a moment later with a platter of tankards that he passed around. “Butterbeer,” he said at Harry’s confused look.

Harry took a sip and hummed. It was the most delicious thing he has ever tasted. Pansy took a long sip of hers and sighed, “Are we just going to ignore whatever is happening between Theo and Daphne?” she asked. “I mean they’re more obvious than if they would snog in front of us.”

“Pansy!” Daphne shrieked.

“Yeah, I was wondering about that too for a while,” Blaise said as he played with a straw in his tankard. “Are you two dating?”

Daphne and Theo’s faces went completely red. They glanced at each other and seemed to sputter. “K-Kind of,” Daphne stuttered.

“I mean—I like Daph a lot,” Theo said, his face entirely red.

“You are dating!” Pansy squealed. “Daphne! Why did you tell me we could have done so much stuff together—oh my god how did this all start? Tell us everything!”

Theo shifted in his seat and glanced at Daphne. “Well,” he began. “Daph?”

“During summer,” Daphne said. “We hung out and talked a lot, and before we knew it, Theo took my hand and—well…” Her cheeks turned very red and looked down at her lap.

“I kissed Daph’s cheek,” Theo muttered, his cheeks red as well.

“Adorable,” Blaise said, smiling. “I’m a little jealous.”

“I know!” Pansy said, “I thought that I would be the first one to date, not these two!”

“Gee, thanks Pansy,” Daphne muttered, rolling her eyes. She took a gulp from her butterbeer and said, “Anyway it doesn’t really matter. I mean, Theo and I just like to hold hands right now.”

“Yeah,” Theo muttered.

Next to Harry, Draco was vibrating nervously. He could see the blond tapping his foot constantly under the table and his eyes shifted around between everyone. Harry had never seen Draco looking like such a wreck. He took Draco’s hand and put it in his lap as he held it. Draco flinched at the touch and looked at Harry who offered him a supporting smile. Draco seemed to calm down and took a breath. “Guys,” he said a little too loudly. “Err, I need to tell you something.”

The table grew silent as they all turned to Draco. The blond Slytherin cleared his throat and sat up a little taller. “I’m gay.”

There was a moment where nothing happened. Harry could feel Draco squeeze his hand fearfully. Then, Blaise’s hand was on Draco’s shoulder. “That’s awesome Dray,” Blaise smiled. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I am too,” Daphne said in a soft voice.

“Me too,” Theo said.

Pansy sighed and sat back, “Well,” she said, “I guess that means we have two gays in our friend group now.”

“Thanks, Parkinson,” Draco drawled. “So happy you’re so concerned.”

“I’m not judging, power to you and all that, just pointing it out,” Pansy shrugged. “However you will allow me to fix your wardrobe.”

“There is nothing wrong with my wardrobe!” Draco yelled. “Seriously Parkinson I come out as gay and your first thought is how I dress?”

“Well, how else are you going to get a boyfriend?” Pansy demanded. Draco’s mouth hung open speechless. He snapped it shut and grumbled under his breath, glancing at Blaise, who kept his hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“I’m positive that Draco can find a boyfriend by himself,” Harry smiled, “and he always looks very nice, right Blaise?”

“Yeah, Dray always looks amazing,” Blaise said, giving Draco a wide smile.

“Thank you,” Draco blushed.

Pansy sighed and said, “Fine, then I’ll have to stick to Harry for my needs. But hey, now there are two gay guys in our friend group now.”

Harry blinked at her and looked around. He knew that Draco came out but didn’t even think if Blaise came out at all yet. “Who’s the second one?” he asked.

Pansy stared at him. “Seriously Potter?” she scoffed. “It’s you. You’re the one who’s always going on about marrying the Dark Lord—who is very male.”

“Ohh,” Harry said, his cheeks tinting pink as he took a sip of his drink. “I actually never thought of that..” Pansy groaned as Blaise laughed loudly.

Chapter Text

Chapter 36

The Voice of the Dark

Harry found himself being the only Slytherin in the castle during the winter break. There was supposed to be another student, a fifth year named Nathen Davis, with him however the night before the first day of break, Harry overheard that Davis was actually going to stay with his girlfriend’s family, and Harry found himself alone.

Which he didn’t mind. He spent the days roaming the castle, following the Marauder’s Map as he learned the secret passages. He wasn’t the only student, but he wished that he were. For some reason, the Golden Trio decided to stay at Hogwarts along with Peter Pettigrew, whom Harry had still never seen personally but saw on the map constantly. As well as two first-year Gryffindors.

On Yule morning, Harry woke up to a pile of presents at the foot of his bed. On top of the pile was a neat black envelope with his name written in an unfamiliar looping handwriting.

Harry picked up the letter and opened it cautiously.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I hope this letter finds you having a wonderful Yule morning. I am the Voice of the Dark, the officiator of your Ritual of Announcement, as well as your guide throughout your journey through the Dark Arts. I am writing you to both prepare you for tonight as well as provide you with transportation. I suggest that you keep the letter and envelope as they are a portkey that will bring you to our celebration grounds. For purposes of secrecy, I am afraid I am not able to reveal where exactly we will be gathering, I hope you understand. The letter will take you to our grounds at precisely nine p.m. and return you to the Slytherin dungeons when activated. I would ask that you bring your wand to the ceremony for this purpose if you are in the habit of leaving your wand around.

During the ceremony, you and others performing the Ritual shall announce yourselves to both Dark Magic officially as well as your fellow members of your community. As such, you will be robed before you arrive, wearing a hood that covers your face. If you do not have such a robe, I will be able to provide one for you. Once you are on the grounds, you are not allowed to remove your hood until the announcement is complete. I shall call you all one by one in alphabetical order and proceed with the Ritual with you. Until then, you are allowed to wander the grounds. Please do not lose this envelope, I will see you at nine.

Have a wonderful day, Mr. Potter.

The Voice of the Dark

Harry smiled widely at the letter. He was worried about how he would get to the Yule celebrations. Nobody told him anything, but now he could see why! He made sure to put the letter carefully on his bed and turned to his other presents. Mrs. Weasley has given him another Weasley sweater along with a dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas cake, and a box of but brittle. Blaise has given him clothes as well as a small box of his favorite chocolate and a note saying One taste Harry, and I swear you’ll fall in love. He also got a set of beautiful robes from Draco, and books about Quidditch and Potions from Daphne and Theo. Harry spent the morning opening presents from his friends, putting aside the box he knew was from Tom for last. He received more clothes and treats as well as interesting trinkets from his friends, Pansy actually gave him a bracelet that Harry really liked.

When it was only Tom’s present left, he took a breath and opened it. Inside was a solid black heavy robe with a hood. It looked tailored to fit Harry snuggly and lifted it carefully for a card to fall out.

Harry placed the robes to the side immediately to pick up Tom’s card.

My little snake,

These are official black ritual robes made from rare materials found only in Bulgaria. They are durable, strong against all weather, and can carry everything you need without showing the item’s bulk. Wear it, my little snake, and be ready for my proper gift tonight. You always said you love me, but now it is time for me to return the sentiment.

Love,

Tom M. Riddle

Harry wanted to cry. He wanted to hug the robes, be smothered in them, and just scream as giddiness took over. Tom put love! He said love! He’s going to return his feelings! Harry couldn’t wait! Harry got his energy out and carefully placed all of his new clothes and books away, taking one book that sounded interesting, and went downstairs to spend the morning with Salazar.

At lunchtime, Harry went up to the Great Hall, to find that the House tables had been moved against the walls again, and that a single table, set for twelve, stood in the middle of the room. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick were there, along with Filch, the caretaker, who had taken off his usual brown coat and was wearing a very old and rather moldy-looking tailcoat. There were only two other students, the two first years who stayed along with the Golden Trio and looked extremely nervous-looking.

“Merry Christmas!” Dumbledore said as Harry approached the table. “As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables. … Sit down, sit down!” Harry sat down near the end of the table and looked at the three empty seats just as the doors to the Great Hall opened again and Neville, Ron, and Hermione walked in. Dumbledore welcomed them and the three sat at the end of the table.

“Dig in!” Dumbledore advised the table, beaming around. As Harry was helping himself to roast potatoes, the doors of the Great Hall opened again. It was Professor Trelawney, gliding toward them as though on wheels. She had put on a green sequined dress in honor of the occasion, making her look more than ever like a glittering, oversized dragonfly.

“Sybil, this is a pleasant surprise!” Dumbledore said, standing up.

“I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster,” Professor Trelawney said in her mistiest, most faraway voice, “and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness. …”

“Certainly, certainly,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. “Let me draw you up a chair—”

And he did indeed draw a chair in midair with his wand, which revolved for a few seconds before falling with a thud between Professors Snape and McGonagall. Professor Trelawney, however, did not sit down; her enormous eyes had been roving around the table, and she suddenly uttered a kind of soft scream.

“I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!”

“We’ll risk it, Sybil,” Professor McGonagall said impatiently. “Do sit down, the turkey’s getting stone cold.”

Professor Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shut, and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table. Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen.

“Tripe, Sybil?”

Professor Trelawney ignored her, and soon she and Professor McGonagall fell into a strange argument that Harry mostly ignored. He just kept to himself and his food until he heard his name half an hour later. “Potter, Mr. Potter,” Professor Flitwick said, “I was just telling Professor Dumbledore about your little trick—if you would please show us?”

“I have heard that you already have a strong grasp on wandless magic, Harry,” Professor Dumbledore chuckled. “I am interested to see myself.”

“It’s not really that interesting or strong, Professor,” Harry said, not looking really comfortable. “I am sure that you wouldn’t be impressed by my little thing.”

“So humble!” Professor Flitwick squeaked. “Oh do it, Mr. Potter, it is rare that we have a third year able to do wandless magic! Very rare!”

Harry shifted in his seat and looked around the table to see that more people were looking at him now. He sighed and saw no way out of this. He lifted his hand and twirled a finger in a circle. A beautiful orb of light shone through, shimmering in multiple colors that blended and mixed together. The orb hovered over Harry’s hand for a moment and with a wave of his hand, it moved away from him until it reached the middle of the table where it exploded in a dazzling display of twinkling, shimmering bits.

The professors all clapped; however, Harry couldn’t help but notice that Snape was staring at him suspiciously, a worried look on his face which he hid in a sneer. “Brilliant, absolutely brilliant Harry!” Professor Dumbledore said. “Where did you pick up this wonderful trick?”

“It is just something I could always do, Professor, it’s nothing special,” Harry shrugged.

“That’s not even a spell!” Hermione Granger said.

“No, it’s not,” Harry hummed. “But does it matter? It’s still magic.”

“Like a part of yourself that you reach inside to move at your will,” Professor Flitwick said, “I still remember your explanation two years ago, Mr. Potter! That is exactly what spellcasting is!”

“He is right,” Dumbledore chuckled, amused. “You have a very unique perception of the inner workings of magic, Harry, my boy.”

“Thank you, Professors,” Harry muttered politely. He was thankful that both professors were distracted and looked down at his food once more. He could feel the trio’s eyes on him but did his best to ignore them.

Two hours later, Harry stood up to leave and Professor Trelawney made a whimpered, “Not you!” that Harry ignored. He left the Great Hall, only to be stopped by Professor Snape just as he reached the staircase to the dungeon. “Mr. Potter.”

Harry stopped and turned to face him, “Yes, sir?” he asked.

Snape just stared at Harry for a long moment. “I want you to remember what we talked about,” he said. “It is still early; you can enjoy a pleasant Christmas evening.”

“I know, but I told you that I know exactly what I’m doing, sir,” Harry said. “It is my decision and I’ve made it. You cannot stop me from going to the Yule celebration.”

“But I can stop you from going to Hogsmeade. Until you smarten up and forget all of this nonsense, you are forbidden to visit Hogsmeade,” Snape said. Harry glared at him and for the first time, gave Snape a cold sneer.

“Very well,” the boy said. “Happy Yule, Professor.” He left Snape standing in the entrance hall and returned to the Slytherin dungeons. It was only seven, and Harry took half an hour to calm down from his small encounter with Professor Snape.

When he felt better, Harry dressed in the black robe that Tom gave him and smiled at how smooth it felt against him. The hood was heavy and covered his face completely. He took the black envelope as well as the book he was reading and returned to the common room. He relaxed with Salazar on his lap until it was time to go.

At nine precisely, Harry was standing in the middle of the room as he held the letter. There was a tug at his navel and the world around him disappeared, spinning in a rush of colors and shapes until Harry felt dizzy. His hands felt latched tightly onto the letter and he couldn’t let go even if he wanted to. He almost fell when the spinning stopped, his legs shaking when he landed on them, and he shut his eyes to let his brain catch up. When the world didn’t feel like it would fall over, he opened his eyes and gasped.

He was surrounded by tall white trees that looked as clear as crystals with long strong crystal branches and leaves that looked to be made of snow. From the sky, it was snowing softly although none of the snow ever reached the ground. Underneath the trees were many tables with families sitting together. Some had their hoods on while others showed who they were proudly. In the corner, there was a clearing with a stage with a live band that was playing softly with older couples dancing close together to the music. In the center was what looked to be the main event. A large flame that towered over everyone, standing at least ten feet high and burning a brilliant purple, giving everything around it a purple hue.

“Harry, I am so happy to see you made it on time,” a soft voice said. Harry turned around to see a man walk up to him. He wore a red heavy robe that covered his face. Harry could barely see the face under the hood, but he felt that he could trust the young man. “You are the last to arrive, everyone else has come early with their families.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Harry said. “Um, are you the Voice of the Dark?”

“I am indeed,” the Voice of the Dark said, “and do not worry about it. I personally find those who arrive early to be rather dreadful company. I’m happy that the letter found you alright.” He motioned for Harry to follow him. Harry was led to a small tent, inside which he saw his friends as well as a couple of familiar Ravenclaws.

Harry took a moment to greet his friends. Pansy hugged him first before he was being passed around, hugging mostly everyone and patting Crabbe and Goyle’s shoulders as he completely ignored Millicent. He found himself in front of Terry Boot who took his hood off to grin at him, “Never thought I’d see you here, Harry,” he said, shaking Harry’s hand.

“Me neither—I don’t think I saw you on Samhain,” Harry said, blinking in surprise.

“I like to keep to myself,” Boot shrugged. “Anyway, good luck out there.”

“Thanks, you too.”

Someone cleared his throat, and everyone turned to the Voice of the Dark. “Now that everyone is here, we can begin,” he said. “If you would first please line up in Alphabetical order? I’m sure that we can all do this without my help.” He chuckled lightly. The young dark wizards all nodded and quickly sorted themselves. “Thank you,” the Voice of the Dark said. “Now, the Ritual of Announcement is really the easiest ritual you will all perform in your journey. It is a time of celebration and gaiety, after all, so all you will do is follow me up to the fire. One by one, I will call you, and one by one you will announce yourselves. I’ll use Mr. Boot first since he is the first in line. You and I will have a brief discussion on why you are taking this path, then you shall face the fire, take off your hood and recite the following, ‘I am Terry Boot, and I pledge myself to the true Dark Arts.’ Then you will contribute to the fire with your magic. Do not worry about the trace, such a thing is useless here—that is if you still have it on you.” The Voice of the Dark chuckled once more and for some reason, Harry thought that he was looking straight at him.

“And that is all. You move to the side and stay by the fire as the next one is called. Simple, isn’t it?” the Voice of the Dark asked. They nodded and he smiled. “Very well, then follow me now.”

He turned and led them out of the tent.

The music stopped playing. Harry saw that everyone at the tables and dancing floor were now standing in rows by the fire. Harry recognized some of his fellow Slytherins as the Voice of the Dark led them down in single file to the towering fire. He stopped right in front of it and turned to address everyone.

“Another year has passed, and once again it is Yule,” he began. “We have enemies all around, but here we are surrounded by friends. Good friends and good music, a perfect recipe for a joyous night. A joyous night that is perfect to welcome our new brothers and sisters.” He paused and the crowd around them applauded. He waited until the clapping died down, and he continued. “If the first may step forward?”

Terry Boot stepped towards the Voice of the Dark and fire. The Voice bent down towards Boot and whispered to Terry for a moment. Then, Terry took off his hood and in a clear voice, Terry said, “I am Terry Boot, and I pledge myself to the true Dark Arts!” He aimed his wand at the fire and a light purple fire shot out of his wand and merged with the bonfire.

Terry stepped to the side and Millicent was called next. She too spoke to the Voice of the Dark for a moment before declaring herself and then moving to the side, joining Terry who stood awkwardly by her as he kept his eyes on the fire in front of them. After Millicent was Crabbe, followed by Daphne who seemed skittish when she said her name, and then Anthony Goldstein surprisingly, and Goyle. When it was Draco’s turn, he strode up confidently and threw back his hood as soon as he stepped in front of the fire. “I am Draco Malfoy! And I pledge myself to the true Dark Arts!” he shouted proudly and shot out a darker purple fire out of his wand. He swaggered towards the others and glanced back at those who were still hooded and grinned.

Theo took a breath and stepped up. He and the Voice of the Dark talked for a little longer than the others before Theo pulled back his hood, “I am Theodore Nott, and I pledge my being to the true Dark Arts. Per Tenebris ego imperium!” His fire was more dark than purple and the bonfire accepted it gladly, roaring as it seemed to grow. Theo stood for a moment, as though admiring the fire, before moving aside.

Pansy was next and after her, it was Harry’s turn. Harry took a few calming breaths as he stepped towards the Voice of the Dark. The man leaned towards Harry and in the firelight, Harry was able to see the man’s face only briefly. He looked young, around his twenties, however the strangest thing of all were his eyes, they looked too old and too sad to be on his face. “What are you thinking, Harry?” The Voice of the Dark chuckled.

“Your eyes,” Harry whispered, not able to stop himself. “They look so sad.”

The Voice of the Dark chuckled. “Sad, are they? How strange, I always find Yule to be the happiest day of the year for me. But tonight is about you, Harry. So tell me, what is it that you wish to find at the end of your journey?”

“That’s easy,” Harry smiled, “The power to stand by the one I love.”

“How selfless, as well as completely selfish,” The Voice of the Dark chuckled. “I personally love it. Go ahead, claim your power.”

Harry nodded and reached for his hood. He pulled it back and took a breath, “My name, is Harry Potter!” he shouted. There were gasped from the crowd behind him. The Voice of the Dark chuckled lightly as Harry continued, “and I pledge myself to the true Dark Arts!” He aimed his wand at the towering fire, and the flames exploded. A massive black flame shot from Harry’s wand, twisting with the flames ahead of him, merging into a growing inferno that left everyone around him stunned. When the flames died down, Harry was panting slightly.

Next to him, the Voice of the Dark clapped softly, and Harry could have sworn that he could see the young man smiling. “Bravo,” the Voice of the Dark said, “now go join the others.” Harry nodded and went to join his friends who all patted his back.

Blaise was the last one, and though his fire wasn’t as strong as Harry’s, he still stood his ground and did the ritual impressively. When Blaise joined them, the Voice of the Dark stepped once again in front of the fire. “Dark Magic has heard and accepted our new brothers and sisters and now it is time for us to do so! So make merry! Dance and enjoy ourselves for the night is ours and By the Dark, we shall survive!” The crowd cheered and before Harry could look for Tom, he was swept away in a crowd of Slytherins.

Everyone was cheering and celebrating. Harry and the others were pulled into hugs so quickly that Harry started to feel dizzy, not sure who was hugging him at times and who was patting his shoulder. He was sure out of the corner of his eye he saw Daphne and Theo kissing properly before both being pulled away by older Slytherins to congratulate them. It went on like this chaotic scramble for a couple of minutes before things started to die down, and the music began.

Harry’s friends started to separate, his friends running to their families, and Harry was left alone for the moment. He looked around, his eyes scanning for the boy he loves when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Harry turned to see eyes too sad and too old looking back at him. “Can we talk?” the Voice of the Dark said.

Harry nodded. They started away from the bonfire as others around them started to dance. Harry kept looking around the place in total astonishment. The trees seemed to sparkle with life, glittering beautifully as the snow lightly fell.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” Harry said as he walked away from the crowd with the Voice of the Dark. “I mean, Hogwarts is supposed to have all these enchantments and protections around it. Traveling by portkey should be impossible!”

“You’re right, normally it should be,” the Voice of the Dark chuckled. “But here is the thing Harry, you traveled with Dark Magic.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Dark Magic, Harry, is so much more vast and powerful than the Light, or really anyone, can understand,” the Voice explained. “It is always growing, and highly experimental.” He lifted his hand and with a wave, a purple mist appeared and seemed to swirl around his hand. “It’s beautiful, no? This pure power. You will find, very quickly Harry, that Dark Magic holds secrets that the Light cannot even begin to dream of. If it wanted you to be here where you belong, you will be here. It’s honestly as simple as that.”

“Ohh,” was all Harry said.

The Voice of the Dark chuckled and turned to face the fire, “It’s still breathtaking, even to me,” he breathed. “Feeling the magic around you, letting it flow through you. Magic has always been, in essence, just an extension of our sense of selves and wills. It will always be connected to who we are.”

“I get that,” Harry said. “That’s how I first learned magic, seeing it as a part of myself.”

“As you should!” The Voice of the Dark said, “It is a shame Harry, how many people simply see magic as a tool. Even here, there are those who forget the lessons they learn during their journey and return to blindly using magic without realizing what is happening.”

“It sounds like me and my orbs,” Harry said and with a wave of his hand, he produced two orbs, one of his shimmering blending light and the other of fire. “They feel like a part of me. They move where I want them to move and come from deep inside me. In fact…” Harry flicked his wrist and the fire disappeared, leaving just the light. “I was told that this is a manifestation of my magic itself.”

“And it is,” The Voice of the Dark said, nodding softly. “And it is so beautiful, Harry.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, his cheeks turning pink.

“But here, the reason why I wanted to talk with you,” The Voice of the Dark said. He pulled out a book from his robe and handed it to Harry. It looked old, around fifty or sixty years, but clearly deeply cared for. On the cover was only a phrase, Per Tenebris ego imperium. “Through Darkness, I control,” Harry translated.

“Exactly,” The Voice nodded. “And I can feel the darkness inside you, Harry. Look through the book, learn from it. If anyone is worthy of the knowledge in that book, it is you.”

“Thank you,” Harry gasped. “I—thank you. Are you sure?”

“Think nothing of it, Harry,” the Voice of the Dark said sweetly. “Happy Yule.”

“Happy Yule, and thank you once again,” Harry said. He pocketed the book as the Voice of the Dark walked away. Harry barely looked around when he once again felt arms on his shoulders, and he was spun around to see a very handsome face that made his heart melt.

“There you are, my little snake,” Tom chuckled.

“Tom! You’re here,” Harry gasped.

“Of course I am, I told you I would be,” Tom said. He was wearing a handsome black suit with open robes. Harry couldn’t help but notice their height difference, He only came up to Tom’s chest. “Come, I want to dance and celebrate your night,” Tom said.

The song was a smooth, slow one and Harry couldn’t help but notice that they were surrounded by couples. In the far corner, Harry saw Cedric and George gliding softly together to the music as on the opposite corner, Mr. Malfoy dancing with his wife. “Nobody recognizes you?” Harry asked softly.

“Of course not my dear,” Tom chuckled. “The only people alive who can even remember this face are all old now. Besides, tonight is not about me, but you.” He took Harry in his arms and started to step with him. Harry blundered and had to stare at his feet to make sure that he didn’t step on Tom’s feet. His love chuckled, “Just let me guide you, Harry. Eyes on me.”

His face red, Harry looked up at Tom and allowed him to take control. They moved silently, Harry’s legs soon getting used to Tom leading him. “So,” Tom said after some time, “what was it that the Voice wanted to talk to you about? It must have been special.”

“Ohh, he gave me a book,” Harry said. “It’s a book of dark spells, I haven’t looked at it yet.”

“That is very generous of him,” Tom hummed.

“Yeah, I like him,” Harry giggled. Tom spun them and pulled Harry to his chest.

“Careful what you say, my prince, you can make your lord jealous,” Tom purred.

Harry blinked up at him. “But Tom, you know that you’re the only one I love,” he said. They spun again and Tom hummed.

“Tell me how you love me,” he ordered softly.

Harry thought for a moment as he stared at Tom’s face. “I love the sound of your laugh,” he said. “I love how I’m the only one to make you smile, how you smell in the morning, and how you are so groggy before you have breakfast. I love our quiet moments. When we’re just together, doing our own things, but I also love when you hold me and kiss my cheeks. I love how you protected me, how you taught me and I’ll always love you for putting me down this path. I love you for who you are, Tom Riddle, and I’ll always love you, no matter what happens.”

They spun once more as the music swelled, and Tom smiled. He pulled Harry against him fully, “Finally, my little snake,” he whispered and pressed his lips against Harry’s.

It was everything Harry could have imagined! Tom’s lips were strong against his, perfectly shaped to devour his own. They stopped and Harry just latched onto Tom, his eyes closing as he felt his body grow hot as the kiss went on. He let out a small moan and Tom’s hands moved to his hair and waist. The hand on Harry’s head pushed him further towards Tom and their lips moved together, opening for a moment and their tongues met. Harry wanted to deepen the kiss but Tom bit down, taking Harry’s lower lip into his mouth and nibbled on it. Harry groaned and pressed himself against Tom, his penis hardening. He could feel Tom’s arousal as well, but Tom kept control of both of them. He pulled away before kissing Harry once more, spinning them both softly to the music and Harry felt that he was in heaven.

Chapter Text

Chapter 37

Patronus and Rituals

The rest of the night was spent in a hazy bliss. Harry spent it entirely with Tom, kissing or dancing depending on their mood. They had to leave at midnight, Tom escorting Harry away from everyone before giving him a final kiss and promise to see him soon. Harry used the envelope to return to Hogwarts, appearing right where he disappeared. He still felt the adrenaline from the night and giggled to himself as he went to bed. It was there that he noticed his dick. It was hard, very hard, and stood at full attention.

Harry heard from Blaise about what this was called, he was having an erection, but he didn’t know what to do with it. He wanted to touch it. He pushed his pants down and breathed at the sight of his dick. His hands trembled as he gripped it, the flesh feeling hot under his touch. He moved his wrist and groaned. His dick pulsed in response. It felt good. He moved his wrist again and gasped. His nipples hardened and his brain flashed to Tom, hearing his deep chuckle as he continued to pump his wrist up and down his cock. It felt dry so he moved his hand to his face and licked it before grabbing his dick again, the wet feeling making his dick shudder.

He stopped as an idea popped in his head. He took his shirt off and brought his free hand to a nipple. He squeezed the nub between two fingers and moaned loudly. It felt too good. He continued to play with his nipple like that, squeezing and pulling as he continued to jerk his dick off, a pressure building deep inside him. It was like he had to pee. Still, he was moaning too loudly, Tom’s voice playing in his head that he didn’t care if he wet the bed—in fact, a sick part of him thought that would be hot. The pressure build and build but Harry couldn’t stop. It felt too good, his brain was floating in an erotic bliss that made thinking hard. All that went through his head was the pleasure from his dick and chest, and the ever-building pressure inside his balls. “Fuck!” he screamed, and his dick exploded, rope after rope of thick creamy cum spraying from it. He moaned through his first climax, painting his stomach with cum. His cheeks blushed heavily as he breathed deeply. He let go of his dick and tiredly dragged a finger up his stomach and chest. He scooped up the cum and just stared at it for a moment.

“Lick it,” a voice inside his mind commanded. Harry swallowed and brought his fingers to his mouth. His tongue stuck out shyly, and he pressed the cum-covered fingertips against it. It was warm, salty… but Harry liked it. He gathered more and licked his fingers clean, finding that he loved the taste even more. He licked himself clean, almost like a cat giving himself a bath. Then, clean but still feeling sticky and exhausted, Harry fell asleep.

Harry was glad when the rest of the school came back after New Year, and the Slytherin Dungeon became crowded once more. His friends immediately cornered him the first opportunity they had and began speaking about Yule. “He was so handsome!” Pansy said, “I cannot believe that that was the Dark Lord!”

“Pansy, quiet down!” Draco whispered. “Harry doesn’t want them to know about him yet—right?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “That’s why he went like this, he wants his followers to only know him as his glamour.”

“Ohh,” Pansy said, nodding, “I see, um sorry, Harry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry smiled. “I’m sure he wants to meet you all as well, but Yule was about us and our Ritual of Announcement. It wasn’t a really good place to introduce my boyfriend.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Blaise chuckled. “You should have heard my mother; she had some very interesting comments about your kissing and dancing Harry.”

Harry’s cheeks turned red, “I hope she isn’t mad at me,” he said as Salem jumped on his lap. The cat decided to sprawl against his and Blaise’s laps as Blaise laughed.

“No! She was actually cheering,” Harry’s best friend cheered as both just started idly petting his cat. “She kept going about how cute it was that you found someone before asking me question after question about who he is.”

“What did you say?” Harry asked.

“That he was your boyfriend,” Blaise shrugged. ‘Umm… that is your relationship, right?”

“Yeah, it is,” Harry grinned. “He’s defiantly my boyfriend now.”

“That’s fantastic,” Blaise said, returning Harry’s smile. Draco nodded along as did the rest of the group. “Still, it’s a bit unfair, you know, he stole you for the rest of the night,” Blaise said.

“So? He was with his boyfriend,” Daphne said, giving Blaise a look, “You wouldn’t understand.” Both Harry and Theo blushed, and they shared a look.

“Anyway, what did the Voice of the Dark want to talk to you about, Harry?” Theo asked. “I saw you and him speaking before the Dark Lord got you.”

“Oh, right, he wanted to talk to me about my goal as well as give me a Yule gift,” Harry said. “It was a book of Dark Arts, I haven’t really started looking through it yet.”

“Ohh can I see?” Theo asked, leaning forward excitedly.

“Yeah, it’s in my trunk, one second,” Harry nodded. He gently scooped Salem off of his lap onto Blaise’s and ran upstairs to get the book the Voice gave him. He returned and showed it to Theo. “Woah,” Theo said immediately. “Harry! This is a first edition! Do you know how old this is?”

“About fifty or so years, that’s what he told me,” Harry shrugged. “Like I said, I haven’t had a chance to look through it yet. But I can’t wait, honestly. It’s like a tingling sensation, holding this book and just thinking about everything it can teach me.”

“Open it! Open it!” Pansy said excitedly.

Draco rolled his eyes and said in a drawling voice, “Honestly Pansy, I never thought you would be excited for a book. I almost forgot that you knew how to read.”

“Shut up Malfoy! Harry and Theo’s excitement is just rubbing off on me,” Pansy snapped back. Harry chuckled and took the book carefully as he opened to the first page, which was an introduction.

To my dear reader,

It excites me so to have this book in your hands. In these pages are a lifetime of knowledge, research, and my personal voyage into the darkest depths of the Dark Arts. It has always been my life’s dream to catalog everything I have learned. It is my way, after my long life, to show respect to Dark Magic which is why I’ve titled it the way I have. As Dark Wizards I believe that we have full control over the Dark Arts, and through that control, we show respect to the Dark Arts. This is what this book is really about: Respect. Respect of your power, of the power of Dark Magic, and respect of the unlimited things you can accomplish through it. Changing into two Animagus forms, controlling your enemies' thoughts with a wave of your hand, enhancing your mind, body, spirit, and more. Dark Magic is unlimited, my dear reader, and here is just a small fraction of what you can learn. A small fraction, sadly, because of the blasted Light.

The Light is a villain! All of them!

Harry stopped reading and started to skim as for the rest of the page, the author went on a rant about his hatred towards the light. He flipped the pages towards the table of contents and read through it. “It all sounds so useful,” he said after a moment. “Look at this! Two animagi forms,” he pointed to a chapter.

“Impressive,” Theo said, looking at the book greedily. “Umm Harry, when you’re done reading, do you think I can?”

“Of course, yeah,” Harry nodded. He has gotten comfortable once more next to Blaise and opened the book to read.

Classes started again the next day. The last thing anyone felt like doing was spending two hours on the grounds on a raw January morning, but Hagrid had provided a bonfire full of salamander for their enjoyment, and they spent an unusually good lesson collecting dry wood and leaves to keep the fire blazing while the flame-loving lizards scampered up and down the crumbling, white-hot logs. The first Divination lesson of the new term was much less fun; Professor Trelawney was now teaching them palmistry, and she lost no time in informing Harry that he had the shortest lifeline she had ever seen.

It was Defense Against the Dark Arts that Harry was keen to get to; he wanted to get started on his anti-dementor lessons as soon as possible.

“Ah yes,” Lupin said when Harry reminded him of his promise at the end of class. “Let me see … how about eight o’clock on Thursday evening? In my office. I’ll have to think carefully about how we’re going to do this. … We can’t bring a real dementor into the castle to practice on.”

“He still looks ill,” Pansy commented as they walked down the corridor, heading to dinner. “What is even the matter with him?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” Daphne said, “but he’s still the best we ever had.”

“Snape wasn’t bad with that one lesson on werewolves,” Draco commented. Blaise hummed along and nodded.

“Strange, though,” he said, “that Professor Lupin seems to be ill so frequently.”

“I hope he’s okay,” Pansy said.

“Anyway, Harry, have you figured out what the first spell you want to try out from the Voice’s book?” Theo asked.

“Yeah, I’ll show you in the common room,” Harry nodded.

After dinner, Harry pulled out his copy of Per Tenebris ego imperium and opened it to the middle of the book. “The Animagus ritual,” Harry said excitedly. “Being able to turn into two animals sounds amazing!” He placed the book open in the middle of the table so Theo and anyone else can lean forward to read the opening page for the chapter.

To become an Animagus normally, the process includes the potential Animagi to hold a mandrake leaf in their mouth for a month and use said leaf to create a potion as well as reciting ‘Amato Animo Animato Animagus’ daily during the entire process. The Light’s procedure to turn into an animal is long, complicated, and can lead to disastrous results including but not limited to: death, partial transformation, splinting and suffering a lifetime of coughing up hairballs or living with other animalistic characteristics. All of this effort just to turn into one animal.

However, with the blessing of the Dark Arts, there is a way to reproduce this methodology with greater results and, better yet, with no unnecessary risk to the participant. As with any other life-altering ritual, it is best to perform on one of the Eight Holidays as it is during these times that the Dark Wizard is connected mentally and magically with Dark Magic. You will still need the potion; however, the mandrake leaf will only need to be in your mouth for a week as Dark Magic knows you intimately and will always help with your rituals. Best of all, you do not need to wait for a lightning storm as the Light Wizards must. The Dark will bring the storm to you. On the next page, you will find a recording of everything I have learned about Animagi through observation and experience as well as instructions for the potions later on and warnings that all Dark Wizards should know about asking the Dark Arts for favors. For as always, the further you walk into the Dark the father you are from the Light.

“This all sounds brilliant,” Theo said, “So you’re going to do it?”

“Yeah, I am,” Harry said excitedly. “I won’t be able to do it on Imbolc, however, there’s not enough time to prepare.” He flipped through the book, “From what I can see, it still needs a month to prepare myself, but by Ostara I know I can do it.”

“That’s good,” Theo said, “Did you know that we have no rituals at all to do on Imbolc? Well usually, sometimes people rush. But Imbolc is often seen as a ‘Woman’s holiday’ due to its history with the name Brigid coming up in numerous resources in different roles. It is the midpoint between winter and spring and seen as a preparation holiday for the coming of spring.”

“Yes Theo, we knew that,” Pansy drawled. “I’m sure that everyone here knew that.”

“Oh… right, sorry,” Theo said, his cheeks blushing. “I just got a bit too excited there, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said, patting Theo on the back. “How about you help me with the potion for my ritual? And then when I’m done, you can see if you want to do it yourself.”

That perked Theo right up and he agreed immediately, going into detail about how Harry can perform the ritual to perfection as well as how Theo will do all the research he can so he can have everything they need to do memorized.

At eight o’clock on Thursday evening, Harry left Slytherin Dungeon for Professor Lupin’s office. Professor Lupin was waiting for him with a large packing case.

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

“Another boggart,” Lupin said. “I’ve been combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch’s filing cabinet. It’s the nearest we’ll get to a real dementor. The boggart will turn into a dementor when he sees you, so we’ll be able to practice on him. I can store him quite easily here when we’re not using him’ there’s that cupboard right there under my desk he’ll like.”

Harry nodded.

“So…” Lupin said, taking out his own wand, and indicating Harry to do the same, “the spell I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, Harry—well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm.”

“How does it work?” Harry asked nervously.

“Well, when it works correctly, it conjures up a Patronus,” Lupin said, “which is a kind of anti-dementor—a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the dementor.”

Harry had a sudden vision of himself crouching behind a giant-sized figure holding a large shield. Professor Lupin continued, “The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the dementor feeds upon—hope, happiness, the desire to survive—but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the dementors can’t hurt it. But I must warn you, Harry, that the charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it.”

“I can do it,” Harry said, “I have to. Just uh, how do you conjure it?”

“With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all your might, on a single, very happy memory.”

Harry cast his mind about for a happy memory. There were many with Tom, and he decided to focus on the day Tom borrowed his magic, both of them sitting in Harry’s cupboard. It was the first time they hugged each other—or really properly touched each other.

“The incantation is this—” Lupin cleared his throat. “Expecto Patronum.”

“Expecto Patronum,” Harry repeated under his breath.

“Concentrating hard on your happy memory?”

Harry nodded, muttering the spell under his breath as he focused on his and Tom’s first hug. Something whooshed suddenly out of the end of his wand; it looked like a wisp of silvery gas.

“Did you see that?” Harry said excitedly. “Something happened!”

“Very good,” Lupin said, smiling. “Right, then—ready to try it on a dementor?”

“Yes,” Harry said, gripping his wand very tightly, and moving into the middle of the office. He tried to keep his mind on the feeling of Tom’s first hug, but something else kept intruding. … Any second now, he might hear his mother again… but he shouldn’t think that or he would hear her again, and he didn’t want to… not this way. Right?

Lupin grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled.

A dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned toward Harry, one glistening scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps around the office flickered and went out. The dementor stepped from the box and started to sweep silently toward Harry. A wave of piercing cold broke over him—

“Expecto Patronum!” Harry yelled. “Expecto Patronum! Expect—”

But the office and the dementor were dissolving. Harry was falling again through a thick white fog, and he heard his father’s voice. “Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off—”

The sounds of someone stumbling from a room—a door bursting open—a cackle of high-pitched laughter—

“Harry! Harry … wake up. …”

Lupin was tapping Harry hard on the face. It took Harry a minute to understand why he was lying on an office floor. “I heard my dad,” Harry mumbled. “This is the first time I heard my dad—he tried to take on the Dark Lord, to give my mum time to run for it. …”

Harry suddenly realized that there were tears on his face mingling with the sweat. He bent his face as low as possible, wiping them off on his robes, pretending to do up his shoelace so that Lupin wouldn’t see.

“You heard James?” Lupin said in a strange voice.

“Yeah. …” Face dry, Harry looked up. “Why—you didn’t know my dad, did you?”

“I—I did, as a matter of fact,” Lupin said. “We were friends at Hogwarts. Listen, Harry, perhaps we should leave it here for tonight. This charm is ridiculously advanced. … I shouldn’t have suggested putting you through this.”

“No!” Harry said. He got up. “I’ll have another go! A happy memory, yeah? Then I wasn’t thinking hard enough. Give me a moment.” He racked his brain and thought about his and Tom’s first proper kiss, and how satisfied and happy it made him feel. He faced the packing case once more.

“Ready?” Lupin said, who looked as though he was doing this against his better judgment. “Concentrating hard? All right—go!”

He pulled off the lid of the case, and the dementor rose out of it again; the room fell cold and dark—

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry bellowed. “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

The screaming inside Harry’s head had started again—except this time, it sounded as though it were coming from a badly tuned radio—softer and louder and softer again—and he could still see the dementor—it had halted—and then a huge, silver shadow came bursting out of the end of Harry’s wand, to hover between him and the dementor, and though Harry’s legs felt like water, he was still on his feet—though for how much longer, he wasn’t sure—

“Riddikulus!” Lupin roared, springing forward.

There was a loud crack, and Harry’s cloudy Patronus vanished along with the dementor; he sank into a chair, feeling as exhausted as if he’d just ran five miles, and felt his legs shaking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Professor Lupin forcing the boggart back into the packing case; it had turned into a silvery orb again. Harry thought about what Blaise had earlier that week and frowned in exhausting thought.

“Excellent!” Lupin said, striding over to where Harry sat. “Excellent, Harry! That was definitely a start!”

“Can we have another go?”

“Not now,” Lupin said firmly. “You’ve had enough for one night. Here—”

He handed Harry a bar of Honeydukes’ best chocolate. “Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Same time next week?”

“Okay,” Harry said. He took a bite of the chocolate and watched Lupin. A thought had just occurred to him. “Professor Lupin?” he said. “If you knew my dad, you must’ve known Sirius Black as well.”

Lupin turned very quickly. “What gives you that idea?” he said sharply.

“Nothing—I mean, I just knew they were friends at Hogwarts too,” Harry said carefully.

Lupin’s face relaxed. “Yes, I knew him,” he said shortly. “Or I thought I did. You’d better be off, Harry, it’s getting late.”

Harry left the office, walking along the corridor and around a corner, then he took a detour behind a suit of armor and sank down on its plinth to finish his chocolate, wishing he hadn’t mentioned Black, as Lupin was obviously not keen on the subject. For not the first time, Harry wished that it was Samhain once more just so he could speak to his parents, especially his father. He felt awful that he couldn’t talk to them during this Samhain, but they were pressed for time, and the Millicent incident just pushed everything else out of his mind.

“Maybe I can look into it after Ostara,” he said to himself. “I want to hear them again.”

He stood up and crammed the last bit of chocolate into his mouth and headed back to Slytherin Dungeon.

Ravenclaw played Slytherin a week after the start of term. Slytherin won with a huge lead, which brought Flint into a victorious mood. He increased their training practices so they can beat Gryffindor soundly the next time they had to play them and win the Cup. This meant that with Lupin’s anti-dementor classes, which in themselves were more draining than six Quidditch practices, Harry had just two nights a week to do all of his homework. Even so, he wasn’t showing the strain nearly as much as last year. He went to his friends whenever he could and asked for their help when he felt like collapsing, which was surprisingly common nowadays. Especially the days after his anti-dementor classes where he always felt sore afterward.

Imbolc came and went, bringing February with it. Harry and Theo started their preparations for Harry’s ritual. The potion was much like Polyjuice Potion and needed a month to brew, which the boys did easily enough in their dorms. The ritual itself seemed simple enough, there would be an incantation Harry would have to say before and after he drinks the potion and allow Dark Magic to come into his body. Then he would shift, first into his actual Animagus form, the form that he would only have if he does it the normal way, before turning into the second animal, which is a gift from Dark Magic. They were both excited to see what kind of animals Harry would turn into.

“Well obviously a snake,” Draco pointed out during one day. They were all in their usual spots in the Slytherin Dungeon. Salazar was curled on Harry’s lap as Salem took to switching between Draco’s and Blaise’s. “I mean, you can talk to snakes Harry, and not to mention Salazar and the fact you’re the Dark Lord’s boyfriend.”

“True, I can see that,” Pansy nodded, “but I don’t know, Harry seems too cute to be a snake.”

“I am not cute, take that back!” Harry said. “And who knows I can be a good snake!”

“I don’t know,” Blaise hummed, giving Harry a sly smile, “with how much you love your boyfriend and go on about him, I can see you as a dog. Imagine it, Harry turns into a cute excitable puppy!” He laughed loudly with Draco and Daphne joining as Pansy and Theo just chuckled.

Harry’s face turned red hot and he muttered, “Then watch out cause I might just bite your ass Zabini.”

“No, no, it’s not my butt you’re going to be biting,” Blaise said through his laughter. Harry swatted at him and huffed. He crossed his arms and glared at Blaise until his friend stopped. Wiping tears from his eyes, Blaise still smiled, “But a dog can be useful!” he said, “You can chase people down—hell you can play with Salem. I’m sure you would love that, wouldn’t you, you fluffy boy?” Blaise cooed, taking to pet the cat on his lap.

“Fine maybe a dog,” Harry said, shaking his head.

“But would that be his normal Animagus or the gift from Dark Magic?” Theo asked.

“Does it matter?” Pansy asked.

“Yes, it does,” Theo insisted. “It’s important!”

“Well, what kind of animal do you hope you can turn into, Harry?” Daphne asked. Harry looked up at her and thought for a moment.

“A snake would be cool, but I can already talk to them so what’s the point?” he said. “Maybe a bird? That would be fun. To be able to fly around anywhere without a broom.”

“Ohh that does sound fun!” Daphne smiled. “I think you would make a really handsome bird; don’t you think so Pansy?”

“Birds can be handsome?” Pansy asked. Daphne slapped her arm lightly, “I mean yeah, I guess.”

“Eagles are very noble birds,” Theo pointed out. “And there’s a beauty to some birds, I guess. I have a cousin who loves ravens. Daph, you know the one.”

“Oh him! Yeah,” Daphne giggled. “Theo’s got a cousin in France who has ten or so pet ravens. He’s trained them to do practically everything really, including carrying letters.”

“I guess ravens look nice,” Pansy said, looking at Harry thoughtfully. “It would match his hair either way.”

“And he can fly around anywhere,” Blaise added thoughtfully. “So what about it, Harry?”

“A raven?” Harry asked, “I mean I personally don’t care as long as I can fly around, but just being able to turn into an animal sounds amazing. But yeah I can see myself as a raven.”

“His hair looks like a nest enough so why not?” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, Harry do you even use the conditioner I give you?”

“Sometimes,” Harry said sheepishly. “But my boyfriend likes my hair messy.”

Pansy opened her mouth to retort but closed it, seemingly thinking better. Instead, she looked thoughtful for a moment before saying, “Then for your birthday I’m giving you something I expect to see you in or else.”

During the fourth week of February, the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Quidditch match was coming up, but Harry’s focus was on his anti-dementor lessons and the preparations for Ostara and the two rituals he will perform that day. Harry was starting to get frustrated with his anti-dementors lessons, they were not going nearly as well as he had hoped. Several sessions on, he was able to produce an indistinct, silvery shadow every time the boggart-dementor approached him, but his Patronus was too feeble to drive the dementor away. All it did was hover, like a semitransparent cloud, draining Harry of energy as he fought to keep it there.

“You’re expecting too much of yourself,” Professor Lupin said sternly. “For a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You aren’t passing out anymore, are you?”

“I thought a Patronus would—charge the dementors down or something,” Harry said dispiritedly. “Make them disappear—”

“The true Patronus does do that,” Lupin said. “But you’ve achieved a great deal in a very short space of time. If the dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get  back to the ground.”

“You said it’s harder if there’re loads of them,” Harry said.

“I have complete confidence in you,” Lupin said, smiling.

“Sir?” Harry said, voicing something that he’d been wondering for a while. “What’s under a dementor’s hood?”

“Hmmm … well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the dementor lowers its hood only to use its last and worst weapon. They call it the Dementor’s Kiss,” Lupin said with a twisted smile. “It’s what dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and suck out his soul.”

“Doesn’t that kill them?” Harry asked.

“Oh no,” Lupin said. “Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you’ll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no … anything. There’s no chance at all of recovery. You’ll just—exist. As an empty shell. It’s the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the Daily Prophet this morning. The Ministry has given the dementors permission to perform it if they find him.”

Harry sat stunned for a moment at the idea of someone having their soul sucked out through their mouth. He thought of Black and what he knew about the man from what Voldemort told him. “He doesn’t deserve it,” Harry said.

“You think so?” Lupin asked lightly. “You would be the first.”

“Nobody deserves that,” Harry said. He was about to tell Lupin everything, about how Sirius Black was his godfather and that it was not him who betrayed Harry’s parents, but a man named Wormtail. However, he lost his voice as he wondered in the back of his mind about how he would explain to Professor Lupin how he knew everything. He couldn’t risk involving Tom, he would never endanger his master, but he also didn’t want to see what was the last link between himself and his parents soulless. So instead Harry found himself silent.

Harry thank Professor Lupin and left his office, his mind buzzing around Sirius Black’s fate and how, if possible, he could save his godfather. Through all of his, like a window shattering, a memory from before he started Hogwarts shattered into his head.

He was eleven and in Gringotts for the first time. The goblins did not believe him when he said his name and made the young wizard do an identification test. He remembered about how he had his finger pricked by a very long and sharp knife, and when his blood touched parchment, words were made.

It listed his name, his parents, the inheritances he stands to gain when he turns fifteen, but more importantly his godparents. Godparents: Sirius Black & Remus Lupin.

Harry stopped in his tracks and turned around. Professor Lupin was his godparent along with Sirius Black. Does he remember? If so, was that why he was teaching Harry the Patronus Charm? Did he believe the lies about Black? Questions swarmed Harry’s mind and he found them buzzing. He wanted to go back and tell Lupin everything, but he had a feeling that words would do nothing. He wasn’t in the right mindscape to do it. But he would be one day, so Harry pocketed the thought. He felt strangely secured knowing that his godfather was in the castle, both godfathers actually. It reminded him of how he felt with Voldemort was in the castle: safe. He was safe in the castle not because of the enchantments but because his family was here. First his boyfriend and future husband, and now his godfathers.

However they both looked like they needed help and weren’t on the best terms of each other, but Harry didn’t mind. He helped his Master regain a body, so helping Sirius Black seemed like an easy task in comparison.

Chapter Text

Chapter 38

The Ritual of Clarity

It was very disappointing to hear that Gryffindor won against Ravenclaw. Harry hoped that Gryffindor would lose, bringing them down in the standings and easily beaten for when they have their rematch. As it stood, Gryffindor was in first place by two hundred points with Slytherin in third place, behind only two hundred and thirty points, something that Flint kept raving over. However, the Gryffindor’s celebration did not last long as, from what Harry heard, Sirius Black appeared once more. This time inside Gryffindor Tower itself.

“He was right on top of me!” Harry heard Ron saying the morning after. “Standing there with a knife! I could have died! I was asleep, and I heard this ripping noise, and I thought it was in my dream, you know? But then there was this draft. … I woke up and one side of the hangings on my bed had been pulled down. … I rolled over … and I saw him standing over me like a skeleton, with loads of filthy hair … holding this great long knife, must’ve been twelve inches … and he looked at me, and I looked at him, and then I yelled, and he scampered!”

“If only you did die,” Draco muttered. Black’s latest break-in has, much to Harry’s annoyance, influenced their lessons as security tightened; Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large picture of Sirius Black; Filch was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to mouse holes. Harry heard that the new portrait was fired from guarding Gryffindor Tower, its original portrait back to work with security trolls guarding it.

Much to the Slytherins’ amusement, they found out that it was Neville Longbottom’s fault that Black got in apparently. He wrote down the passwords and lost them, which Black used to sneak in. Professor McGonagall was so furious with him she had banned him from all future Hogsmeade visits, given him a detention, and forbidden anyone to give him the password into Gryffindor Tower. The thought of Neville having to wait outside with the security trolls for someone to say the password for him was a constant source of laughter for the Slytherins. Two days after Black’s break-in, Draco’s face lit up like it was Yule once more as he spotted a Howler landing right in front of Neville.

Longbottom tried to run away with it as the Slytherins laughed. They heard the Howler go off in the entrance hall—Longbottom’s grandmother’s voice, magically magnified to a hundred times its usual volume, shrieking about how he had brought shame on the whole family.

Harry, Theo, and Draco spent the day preparing their revenge against Millicent Bulstrode between classes. Harry brought up the charm that can change their voices, claiming that it would be far too easy to steal bits of her hair and pretend to be her. “Or even better,” Theo proposed. “We don’t even involve us at all. We can use the general hatred of Slytherin to our advantage. Let the Gryffindors feel righteous and tell them about something horrible Millicent has done. I’m positive down the line, the truth will be morphed into something more hideous.”

“She did push those second years down the hall yesterday,” Draco commented. “One of them skinned their knees or something.”

“Oh! And last week she cheated on the History of Magic test!” Harry said, peaking up.

“Harry, we all cheated on that test,” Draco said.

“Ohh, right,” Harry muttered. He thought for a moment and smirked as he gave a dramatic sigh. “Such a downright shame.”

“Shame?”

“Such an awful waste,” Harry said. “Ingredients are so expensive nowadays. If you get my drift.” He looked at his friends and sighed. “No? Seems an awful waste,” he continued. “I mean with the price of snake fangs, what it is when you get it if you get it…”

The two looked at him, “Ah!” Theo said.

“Good you got it,” Harry smirked. “Take, for instance, the uncommon poisons. They’re never better with just a little bit of fangs, but what’s going to happen if you add a bit too much. I’m sure the chaos will never be brought back to us!”

“Harry, what a charming notion!” Theo said.

“Well it does seem a waste,” Harry said.

“Very practical and appropriate, as always,” Theo continued.

“It’s just an idea,” Harry shrugged with a smile.

“But how are you going to get the snake fangs?” Draco asked. “Professor Snape keeps a tight lock on his ingredients.”

“Simple,” Harry said, “In the wild, snakes lose their fangs all the time. And I am sure there will be a snake or three by the forbidden forest. I’ll just ask politely for their fangs.”

“And if they don’t give them?” Draco asked.

“That’s why we have magic,” Harry said. “Her disastrous potions will be seen as incompetence at best and an attack at worst. Especially when they find the unused snake fangs in her pocket.”

“Do I want to know how you’re going to do that bit?” Draco asked.

“No, you really don’t,” Harry hummed. “But I will say that as a kid, I learned very quickly how to get things into where I want them. When’s our next potions class again?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Theo answered. Harry smiled, “Then let’s go get the fangs right now! Come on!”

They left the castle. Harry led them down to the edge of the forbidden forest where they sat down as though to just relax in the sunshine. “Now what?” Draco asked.

“Now, we wait,” Harry said. “Snakes usually have a way to come to me.” And as if waiting for its cue, a small poisonous green snake slithered up towards them cautiously. Harry smiled and hissed out, “Hello, do you have a name?”

The snake looked up at Harry for a moment. “Did you just say something?”

“I did, do you have a name?”

“No… how can you speak to me?”

“I simply know your language. Go out and gather as many snakes as you can find,” Harry ordered. The snake just stared at Harry.

“Why?”

“Because I am the Heir of Slytherin—I speak your language and command you with it!” Harry said impatiently. He took out his wand and sent a warning stunner that barely hit the snake. “Now GO!”

The snake slithered off, hissing curses at Harry. Harry huffed and watched the forest, saying nothing to Draco and Theo. They heard loud rustling a moment later, and almost a dozen snakes of different breeds came slithering towards them. Some bared their fangs threateningly and while Draco and Theo moved away, Harry stayed perfectly still. “This is the one who tried to harm me!” the first snake hissed.

“I am the Heir of Slytherin, I have freed the Basilisk last year. You will do as I say or I’ll bring her back,” Harry threatened. The snakes started to hiss at one another, their voices melding into a chorus of hisses. Harry waited for only a few minutes before aiming his wand at them. “Well? Answer me or I will make sure my spells do not miss.”

“What do you want?”

“Your fangs. Now.” Harry said. The snakes hesitated and Harry hit the closest one with a stunner and waved his wand, the fangs popping out of the snake’s head by force. He looked at the other snakes and raised an eyebrow. “If you’re nice I’ll only take one. I know they grow back quickly.”

The snakes all opened their mouths obediently and Harry smiled. He worked one by one, using his wand to pull a fang out, adding it to the small pile until he had thirteen fangs. “Thank you,” Harry said politely. “You may go.” The snakes all slithered away slowly, looking at Harry with anticipation.

Harry gathered the fangs and turned to Draco and Theo, “Here we go,” he said happily, “I’ll wash them and bring them to Potions tomorrow.”

“Harry,” Draco whispered, “remind me to never make you angry.”

Harry laughed and patted Draco’s back. “You two will never make me angry,” he said. “Come on, I need to make these fangs clean.”

As expected, during Potions the next day, the third years were continuing their work on uncommon poisons, tasked with using ingredients such as snake fangs to delude the potions until the effect becomes moot. Millicent was at a table with Crabbe and Goyle, standing in the aisle seat. In his pocket, Harry had the extra snake fangs as he glanced at Millicent.

She was working sloppily. Her workstation was an entire scrambled mess of random ingredients, potion stains, and splotches on the table, and her wand just laying haphazardly next to ladles and knives. It was almost too laughably easy. Harry reached into his pocket and grabbed the fangs lightly. He muttered something to Blaise about needing more ingredients and moved away from his own cauldron after turning off the fire. He walked slowly and muttered to himself the ingredients he needed. Millicent was busy chopping ingredients sloppily, so Harry just pulled out his hand and tipped it slightly, letting some fangs fall into Millicent’s pocket, and then lifted his hand slightly to drop the rest onto Millicent’s table with the other fangs.

He got the ingredients he needed and returned to his workstation. Not a minute later, Millicent scooped up the snake fangs and dropped them all into the cauldron. She then took her ladle and stirred once, twice, three times—then the cauldron exploded. A putrid puce color liquid shot out of Millicent’s cauldron, drenching her and falling all around her station. The class erupted with screams as Millicent jumped around, frantically trying to get her potion off of her.

Snape acted immediately. He waved his wand, and the mess was cleaned. “Silence!” he commanded. Just as sudden as the room erupted into noise, it became quiet as Snape moved from his desk to Millicent. He gave her a cold sneer and looked into her cauldron. “You’ve used too many snake fangs,” he snarled. “But how did you get the extra fangs, Ms. Bulstrode?”

“I-I didn’t, you gave them to me!” Millicent stuttered, her face stained puce.

“Turn out your pockets,” Snape ordered. Millicent balked. “I have nothing!”

“Turn out your pockets immediately,” Snape ordered. Millicent stared back at him but slowly moved her hand to her pockets. She stopped, as though stunned, and Harry had to hide his face with a hand as he smirked. Bashfully, Millicent pulled her hand out and stared at the snake fangs in her hand.

“Stealing from my supply now, are you?” Snape said. “Or did you think to add from your own personal stash?”

“P-Professor, this isn’t mine!” Millicent said.

“Oh? Then perhaps we should discuss this further during detention,” Snape said. “Now get to the hospital wing.”

Harry watched as she ran away crying, and he smiled during the rest of the lesson, making his potion perfectly.

Harry’s mood last the entire week, and before he knew it, he was in Professor Lupin’s office for his anti-dementor lessons. Things were still bothering Harry’s mind, especially Lupin’s comments on Black and the fact that they were both Harry’s godparents. He wanted them to be better, to get along once more. So, when he was done with his lesson, Harry stayed. “Is something the matter, Harry?” Lupin asked.

“Actually, yeah,” Harry said hesitantly. “Sir? Can we actually talk?”

“I have a feeling this is going to be a long talk,” Lupin said, giving a tired smile. “I will start a pot of tea then.” He waved his hand and his teapot started to bowl. Harry moved to sit by Professor Lupin’s desk and gathered his thoughts.

He looked up when Professor Lupin placed a teacup in front of him and sat down himself. “So, Harry. What is troubling you?” he asked. “Is it Black?”

“I—yeah,” Harry nodded. “But also you, sir.”

“Me? Why so?” Lupin asked.

“Because I know that both of you are my godfathers,” Harry stated. He expected Lupin to be shocked, but instead, the man just took a slow long sip of his tea and frowned when he set it back on its saucer.

“I see,” was all he said. “How did you learn?”

“The first time I went to Gringotts,” Harry said. “They didn’t believe me because I didn’t have my key. So they had to test my blood. That was when I learned that you and Sirius Black were my godparents, even though I did not know who either of you were. Honestly, I’ve all but forgotten about it until recently. I was just looking for the right time to tell you.”

“I see,” Lupin repeated himself. “Harry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop Sirius from betraying your parents to the Dark Lord—that I couldn’t raise you afterward even though I wanted to so much.”

“But Professor,” Harry interrupted. “You don’t understand, Sirius Black did not betray my parents!” That made Lupin pause. He stared at Harry like he wanted to believe him but still remained suspicious. “It’s true,” Harry said. “It wasn’t Sirius Black, but another person. Another person that my parents knew. I don’t know his name but he goes by Wormtail. He was the one who betrayed my parents.”

“But—Peter? Peter is dead,” Lupin muttered. “Sirius killed him—Harry, how do you know all of this?”

“My guardian,” Harry said carefully. “The man who raised and mentor me. He had friends who were forced to work for Lord Voldemort.” His stomach churned at saying his Master’s name. “They told him, but at the time there was no proof.”

“I see,” Lupin said, sighing sadly, his hopes seeping out of him. “So even still, Sirius is a murderer.”

“Professor? What happened?” Harry asked. “And who is Peter? Where did his name Wormtail come from?”

“That was a nickname he had in our friend group,” Lupin said. “It was the four of us. Your father, Sirius Black, myself, and Wormtail, whose name is Peter Pettigrew. During our time at Hogwarts, we were trouble makers, especially your father and Sirius. During our time, we made nicknames for ourselves. Your father was Prongs, Sirius was Padfoot, Peter was Wormtail, and I was Moony.”

Harry gasped and said without thinking, “The Marauders!”

“How did you know we called ourselves that?” Lupin asked.

Harry’s cheeks turned red, and he pulled the map out of his pocket. Lupin’s eyes sparked with recognition. “This is your map,” Harry said, “it shows where everyone is in Hogwarts.”

“Yes, yes exactly,” Lupin muttered. “Harry—how did you get this map?”

“I found it,” Harry said, not wanting to give Fred and George away. He opened the map and the two looked at it for a moment. Lupin chuckled and said, “I remember we used to spend countless nights sneaking around the castle with your father’s cloak. Nobody could find us obviously with that.”

“My father’s cloak?” Harry asked curiously.

“Yes, I assume you have it now,” Lupin chuckled. “It’s practically a family heirloom. An Invisibility Cloak that’s older than your grandfather at least. Before his death, James gave the cloak to Dumbledore to study it, it was an unusual cloak. As you may know, invisibility cloaks can only last so long but James’, and yours, worked perfectly even after being years old.”

Harry frowned. “Are you sure my father had this cloak?” he asked.

“Why, yes,” Lupin said, stunned. “Don’t you have it now?”

Harry didn’t answer. Instead, his mind worked as he thought about the cloak. It sounded familiar, but it wasn’t his, but Neville Longbottom’s. It was his family’s, even if his grandmother didn’t remember it. Could that have been a lie? If so, then why did Longbottom get it? Why did Dumbledore give it to Longbottom and not Harry?

Too many questions, but only one answer that Harry could see: He had to get his cloak back. Another thing to do on his ever-growing list. But before that, he wanted to ask about another thing. “You said before that Wormtail’s name is Peter Pettigrew?”

“Yes.”

“And he was killed by Sirius Black?” Harry asked.

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me more, sir?” Harry asked.

“If you are sure,” Lupin said. “Sirius Black killed thirteen muggles the day after your parents died, along with Peter Pettigrew.”

Harry frowned, “That can’t be right,” he said. “I saw Peter Pettigrew on the map, sir. He’s alive.”

“No—Harry no, that has to be a mistake,” Lupin said.

“Does the map make mistakes?” Harry asked.

“It’s not designed to but Peter is dead, Harry. All they found of him was a finger.”

“But I keep seeing his name for two years, Professor,” Harry said. “He’s always in Gryffindor Tower or going around the grounds.”

“That can’t be right,” Professor Lupin muttered. He looked down at the map as though to examine it. “Harry, would you mind if I borrow this?”

Harry’s heart quickened. He didn’t want to part with the map but he also didn’t want to be rude to his godfather. “Not yet,” he said, “I still need the map for one thing.”

“Oh,” Lupin said, surprised, “what is that?”

“I need to get my cloak back,” Harry said simply. “I don’t have it, but I know where I’ll be able to get it. But until then, I’ll need my map. I hope you understand.”

“Yes—yes of course,” Lupin said. “Just don’t break any rules, Harry. I don’t want you getting in trouble.”

“Professor, I’m shocked,” Harry said, gasping. “I’m a Slytherin, I’m the very model of a perfectly behaved student.” Professor Lupin made a noise but did not comment. Harry finished his tea and folded the map up. He didn’t know how to say goodbye. So instead he just stood there for a moment and said “Goodbye.”

Lupin just nodded and waved Harry goodbye, both with too much on their minds.

Ostara came too quickly. Harry did everything he needed for the ritual. Holding the mandrake leaf in his mouth was torture, the taste ruining almost everything he ate. He and Theo made the potion that Harry needed to drink in secret, using the boys’ dormitory to brew it. Blaise hated it, especially when the potion became particularly smelly, however with an open window and a fragrance spell that Pansy knew, the potion became bearable to live with. His lessons with Professor Lupin still happened, however, neither of them talked about much else besides the Patronus. Harry still did not know how to approach the situation, he told Lupin everything he knew, but needed proof. He still saw Pettigrew sometimes on the map, the supposed dead man spent less time in Gryffindor Tower and more time scurrying around the castle with no tell or scheduled routine.

On the night of Ostara, Harry and his friends dressed in their ritual robes and left the Slytherin dungeons with the others telling them good luck. Harry tapped his wand twice and he was the first to step onto the ritual grounds in the forbidden forest.

It was strange coming here when it wasn’t Samhain. The place looked so lonely, yet Harry could feel the dark magic radiating from it. He looked at the others and they separated to perform their rituals privately. For this, their first Ostara on their journey, they were to perform the Ritual of Clarity. A ritual that, according to what Harry has read, acts as a way to focus the wizard’s thoughts as they commit their mind to the Dark Arts. It was a simple ritual that would not take long, but Harry and Theo would stay on the grounds for longer as Harry would perform his other ritual immediately afterward.

Harry made his circle just as Voldemort taught him years ago and he placed his candles at each of the stars’ points before sitting in the center. He lit the candles, watching as the flames sparked with a lively orange before turning purple. “Right,” he said to himself. “Here goes nothing.” He cleared his throat. “I sit in the circle eternal and never-ending. In this realm of yours, I offer my mind and thoughts to enact your will, O Dark Magic. With this sacrifice, I prove myself worthy to be called your wizard.” Harry breathed and did his best to relax, that was all he had to say, but now he had to sit in the circle and still his thoughts until the candles went out.

Thinking of nothing, Harry found, was more difficult than negotiating with a basilisk. First, he tried thinking about Dark Magic, and the mystery around it but as the flames flickered, his thoughts wandered over to Tom and his lips on Harry’s. His cheeks started to blush, and his dick hardened, and Harry shook his head to get those thoughts out of his mind. It seemed that Tom would not still Harry’s thoughts. So he instead thought about homework, which only worried his mind, and his friends only made him wonder how they were doing. The flames around him were still burning strong, dancing slightly in the soft breeze in the forest. Harry breathed again tried to come up with anything to calm his mind. Everywhere his mind wandered he found something to worry or wonder about. It wasn’t until Harry found himself just staring at the flame ahead of him, that he felt something different.

A strange silence washed over him. He found that the tension he was holding onto seemed to drift away, taking all of his worries and contemplations with it. In its place, Harry felt completely relaxed. His world started to shrink, the forest seemingly disappearing, until it was just him and the candle in front of him. The flame still danced and flickered slowly, and Harry’s breathing matched its slow waltz. A lazy, thoughtless grin came to Harry’s face, and it was only then that the purple flames started to disappear.

One by one the candles around Harry extinguished themselves until it was only the one in front of Harry left. Then, with no warning, it too was gone, and Harry was snapped back into reality. He felt confused but entirely satisfied. He closed the circle, thanking Dark Magic before stepping out.

His ritual done; Harry looked around for his friends. Theo and Daphne were finished as well, which Harry expected, while Blaise looked to be mostly done with only one candle remaining in his circle. Draco and Pansy, meanwhile, both had half their candles left while Crabbe and Goyle had only one candle extinguished. Daphne and Theo walked towards Harry.

“All done?” Daphne asked.

“With this one, yeah,” Harry nodded. “But now it’s for the other one.” He pulled out a large, sealed container from his pocket. Inside was the Animagus potion which looked light blue and smelled strangely enough like oranges. Harry placed the potion in the center of his circle and looked at Theo.

“You remember what you have to do?” Theo asked excitedly.

“I do,” Harry muttered. “I can’t wait to get this leaf out of my mouth.” He lit the candles once more and took a breath to ready himself once more. “Per Tenebris ego imperium Amato Animo Animata Animagus!” The clouds above them started to swirl and come together. Harry walked the circle slowly, pointing his wand at his heart as he repeated the phrase. With each utter, the clouds build and build until forked black lightning started to strike. The others seemed to be done with their rituals by now and were standing by to simply watch Harry. “Per Tenebris ego imperium! Amato Animo Animata Animagus!” Harry yelled. Lightning struck, forking down towards them all as it hit the container with the potion. It fizzled and boiled madly as static charged and arced around it before disappearing. Harry took the mandrake leaf out of his mouth and dropped it into the potion.

The leaf disintegrated instantly, steam rising from the cup. The miniature storm continued above the Forbidden Forest. Harry pocketed his wand and picked up the potion. Around him, his friends watched. Pansy and Draco looked worried while Theo watched on entirely intrigued. “By the Dark I control,” Harry muttered to himself, and he drank the potion. It burned his throat, going down like a thick boiling slushie. He wanted to scream but he kept drinking until it was all gone. Pain seared through his body and Harry screamed as he dropped the cup.

A full thunderstorm was now brewing. Harry’s stomach felt like it was on fire as he doubled down. Every inch of his body hurt. His skin felt like it was both peeling off and pushing through as his bones broke and grew back in different places. Harry was only vaguely aware of his friends screaming around him. Blaise ran towards him only to be held back by Theo, who barked something at Blaise that Harry couldn’t hear. With another thunder strike, the pain doubled, and Harry felt his body changing.

His hands and feet started to curl. Black tuffs of fur sprouted out of his skin. His face started to sink in as his nose and mouth elongated. His glasses molded into the black fur that was growing everywhere, looking like two distinct white circles around his emerald eyes. His scar stayed, fur growing just around it as the skin changed to compliment his new form. The pain in his backside grew as a tail sprouted out, long and fluffy. Harry’s screams turned into painful whimpers as he stood on all fours, his legs shaky. He looked at his friends for a moment and tried to take a step forward only to stumble. Blaise pushed Theo away and tried to rush towards Harry only to be pushed back by an unseen force as thunder struck once more.

Harry whimpered again as the pain changed him, turning him back into a human before black feathers sprouted all over his body and he started to shrink. His feet shot back into his body becoming somewhat scaly with no feathers at all as long black, beautiful feathers grew from his arms. Harry felt his neck change and he looked around wildly, scared that he was able to turn his head in a complete circle. The white rings around his eyes stayed the same in this form, and his screams became angry hoots. Harry ruffled his feathers angrily and scared himself by flying into the air only to fall to the ground once he realized what he’d done. Once again he turned back into a human, exhausted and laying on the ground. The storm above them dissipated and Blaise ran to him.

“Harry! Harry! Are you okay?” Blaise panicked. “Oh by the Dark, what were you thinking?”

“That was amazing Harry!” Theo cheered. “To think that Dark Magic would summon a storm to assist you! This is truly fantastic!”

“Fantastic my ass look at him!” Blaise yelled. He turned back to Harry, “Harry, are you okay?”

“Fine,” Harry groaned. “Just exhausted. I felt a tail then wings. Where is—where are my paws?”

“You don’t have paws anymore Harry,” Blaise said, “you’re back to normal.” He helped Harry to his feet and held onto him. Draco immediately ran to support Harry from the other side.

“I’m fine,” Harry protested.

“Just shut up,” Draco muttered.

“What did I turn into?” Harry asked. “I know I flew and had a tail.”

“A dog first,” Theo said. “A great big giant dog, almost like the Grim. And then into an owl just as big as Hedwig. Both had black fur and black feathers.”

“Hey, maybe that’s why you kept seeing the Grim,” Draco said hopefully. “It wasn’t your death, but your Animagus form.”

“Maybe,” Harry muttered, even though he did not personally believe it. “Anyway, I’m happy I can turn into a bird at least.”

“Why is that?” Daphne asked.

“So I can fly up to Gryffindor Tower and steal Longbottom’s Invisibility Cloak,” Harry said. “Long story, but apparently the cloak belongs to my family, so really I’m just taking it back.”

“Yeah but first you have to learn how to fly first,” Blaise said warningly.

“Easy enough,” Harry shrugged. “Now can we go back? I’m so tired.”

“You guys go, Daphne and I will clean up,” Pansy said, Daphne nodding along. So, the boys all left, Harry feeling too exhausted to even complain as Blaise and Draco brought him back to the shack and into the Slytherin common room. The older years were congratulating them, but Harry could barely thank them. He felt heavier somehow, warmer. When Draco helped him dress into his pajamas, the heat stayed inside him. It wasn’t sweltering, just different, but he didn’t have long to think about it before he fell onto his bed and sleep overtook him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 39

Family Heirlooms

The week leading up to April was filled with Quidditch practice and Harry’s Animagus practice as he got used to walking around as a dog and flying as an owl. He loved being an owl, he was able to fly around with Hedwig who recognized him immediately. It was very awkward in the beginning, he felt so awkward flapping his wings and then there was the constant fear of falling, but the more he practiced, the more natural it felt. The first night, Harry flew up to the top of the tree before falling once he realized what he’d done. Hedwig was watching him and flew around Harry almost mockingly. He shifted and swatted at her only to get annoyed nibbles at his fingers and ears. His second and third nights of practice had Harry fly around for half an hour before losing his focus. It wasn’t until the fifth that everything clicked together for him.

He pushed out into the air and Hedwig found him immediately. They flew around the Forbidden Forest, grazing the treetops until Harry wanted to go higher. They climbed, racing towards the Owlery where they circled around until, right at the top, Harry saw something on the ground and dove for it. His wings folded in and he tucked his legs in until, at the last second, he released his wings and stretched out his talons. It was a rat, a rat with a missing toe at the front that Harry instantly recognized as Scabbers, Ron’s rat. The pet only gave a short squeak before Harry caught it in his talons. Scabbers struggled but Harry kept his grip tight. For a moment he thought of letting the rat fall and squish on the ground, but that was too cruel in his mind. Weasley didn’t do anything to deserve that, yet. So instead, Harry flew on towards the greenhouses and descended, letting the rat fall from only a foot before flapping away.

Harry decided to go after his Invisibility Cloak on Saturday night. He wanted to go during the day, however, he had a feeling that with his black feathers, he would stick out on a sunny day. So he had to wait for nightfall, and even then he had to wait even longer until he was certain that the boys would be asleep in Gryffindor Tower.

Blaise and Draco waited with him in the common room, cups of coffees all sitting in front of them on the table. It was almost two in the morning when Harry decided to go. “Good luck Harry,” Blaise said.

“If you can, make Weasley wet his bed,” Draco said. Harry snorted and shook his head.

“I’m sure he doesn’t need my help for that,” he said. “Don’t wait up for me, go to bed.”

“Are you sure?” Draco asked as he covered his mouth to stifle a yawn.

“Yeah, you guys go rest. It’ll only take an hour at best. Just don’t wake me up in the morning,” Harry said. He smiled and took his coffee cup, draining it, and placed it back before he stepped away. “Goodnight,” he said.

“Goodnight Harry—and don’t worry I’m positive you’ll get the cloak easily,” Blaise grinned. “Come on Dray, I’m dead tired.” He slung an arm around Draco, who blushed, and Harry gave Draco a thumbs-up behind Blaise’s back. He watched his friends go up to the dormitory before he turned and left the common room.

It was too easy getting out of the castle with the Marauder’s Map. Harry stuck to secret passages and hidden corridors to get to the fields of Hogwarts. He then ran away from the castle until he was sure that nobody could see him in the cloudy night. He pocketed the map and took a breath. He imagined himself shrinking and growing feathers. A moment later, he was flapping his wings as he stretched his talons on the warm ground. Everything seemed sharper as an owl. He could see anything and know precisely how far away it was and how much he had to fly to get there. Harry stretched his wings and pushed off, soaring as high as he could until the trees started to shrink underneath him.

Gryffindor Tower was one of the taller towers of Hogwarts. Harry knew where it was from his nights flying around the castle as well as walking around with the Marauder’s Map which labeled it clearly. Flying around the castle and navigating its corridors was totally different, yet Harry felt confident as he flew towards the castle, keeping at a silent glide. The windows of Gryffindor Tower were dark. Harry circled the tower, stopping at each window and peering inside to check on the students all sleeping quietly. The tower seemed to have an ascending order in regards to the students’ years, and so when he reached the third level of windows for the dormitories, he peered inside to immediately see Seamus and Dean sleeping together in the same bed.

He fiddled with the window with his beak and talons, peaking and scratching lightly at the lock until he heard a small click. He felt a warm sensation fill him and knew that either Dark Magic or the Horcrux inside him had a hand in opening the window. He landed and shifted back silently.

He held his breath as he looked around. The dormitory was smaller than Slytherin’s, much smaller, with only four beds, though only three were being used. Everything was decorated obnoxiously in golds and scarlets, large lions plastering the walls, and even a few throw pillows. Ron Weasley’s bed was directly next to him, and it was entirely messy. His blankets were thrown around everywhere, and he looked like he was only sleeping with a comforter as he held onto a pillow, his body spread out as he snored quite loudly.

Thank the Dark I avoided this, Harry thought to himself. Longbottom’s bed was further away. The boy was in the bed, sleeping away, curled underneath the neatly made bed. Harry would have called the boy cute in this position if he didn’t steal a familiar heirloom and wasn’t a constant source of annoyance for the young Slytherin.

He walked slowly, his legs aching from the process as he held his breath and focused every muscle to stay silent. It was easier being quiet as an owl than a human, Harry thought as he slowly inched towards Longbottom’s bed. He used Weasley’s snores to hide his steps, hoping that he did not step on any squeaky floorboards. All he needed was to get to Longbottom’s trunk and find the cloak. After that, he could be invisible and easily get away.

He passed Ron’s bed only to stop when he heard a squeak. Harry winced, thinking he stepped on a bad board only to hear it again. Harry looked around to see Scabbers standing on the footboard of Ron’s bed. The rat squeaked loudly, and Harry instantly pulled out his wand. He aimed it at the rat and whispered, “Paralyticus.” The Dark Stunning Spell hit the rat squarely in its chest, and Scabbers fell over to the side of the bed, silent.

Harry gave a sigh of relief and turned back to sneaking towards Longbottom’s trunk. It wasn’t even locked so Harry just got to his knees and opened it carefully. He pulled Longbottom’s clothes to the side, smirking when he saw that the boy still wore white briefs for underwear. He couldn’t wait to tell the others about that. Longbottom had a lot of books on Herbology and as Harry started to slowly pull them out, he stopped when he heard a voice. He twisted his body to look behind him.

Everyone was in their beds, but the couple was moving. Seamus was muttering sleepily as he tried to get closer to Dean, who wrapped an arm around him in his sleep. Harry was jealous. He didn’t like that they were able to do this while he and Tom couldn’t. That his Tom was across Europe, and even when he graduated he and Harry will still be separated because of Hogwarts. He looked away scowling, Focus Potter! Get the damn cloak!

Harry found the Invisibility Cloak hidden under Neville’s schoolbooks. It was roughly folded as though just shoved in there haphazardly. It was light to the touch and flowed like water as Harry pulled it out of Longbottom’s trunk. Most importantly, it felt familiar, and Harry smiled as he held it. “Hello there my friend,” he whispered.

Harry quickly put his invisibility cloak to the side and repacked Longbottom’s trunk. He closed it slowly and wrapped the cloak around him as he stood up. Invisible, Harry had no trouble walking back to the window, matching his steps with Weasley’s snores once more. He opened the window and took off the cloak. He folded it and held the cloak close to him as he turned into an owl and flew out the tower. The window closed behind him, and Harry flew down to the grounds, feeling accomplished.

Over the next couple of weeks, Harry watched as Longbottom, Granger, and Weasley seemed to become more frantic and stressed as they looked as though they’ve lost something very important. His cloak was hidden safely away in one of the hidden compartments of his trunk and taken out only when he needed it, which was every night for a stroll or when he wanted to practice flying around as an owl or run around as a dog. His lessons continued with Professor Lupin, and after each attempt he found himself getting a little sore. April was halfway gone when Harry realized that he hasn’t written a letter to Tom since Ostara! He decided he needed to fix that.

So after classes, Harry sat down in the common room by himself with Salazar by his side as he wrote a letter to Tom, going over everything that has happened recently.

Tom,

I’m so sorry I did not write to you recently; a lot has happened and it slipped my mind. I talked with Professor Lupin. I told him everything and I learned something new! My dad had an invisibility cloak that was a family heirloom, it’s definitely over fifty years old at least and still works brilliantly to this day. Before he went into hiding, he gave it to Dumbledore because the old man wanted to study it. Only thing, I never got the cloak. It was given to Neville Longbottom and told to him that it was his in a letter. Remember the cloak that I told you that Fred and George told me about? That was it. Lupin wanted my map, but I didn’t give it to him, I didn’t think it was a good idea and I needed to get my cloak back.

Which funny enough the Voice of the Dark helped with. The book he gave me included a ritual that allows me to become an Animagus with two forms I can shift into. I’ve done the ritual on Ostara, and it was excruciating as well as utterly amazing. Dark Magic appeared to help me It summoned a lightning storm and guided me through the ritual. It felt warm, like whenever I hug you. I turned into a dog first, a huge dog maybe a German Shepherd but with black fur. After that, I turned into an owl with black feathers. Draco suggested that the Grim I kept seeing is actually my Animagus form, but I just don’t know. Anyway, I’ve learned to fly as an owl in a week and flew into Gryffindor Tower and stole my cloak back.

My Anti-dementor lessons are going well, by the way, however recently while I’m able to summon a partial Patronus I find myself feeling very drained, and a bit sore actually. Maybe I’ve been stretching myself too much lately. But I do feel confident that if a dementor comes to me, I can fend it off long enough to run away.

There is one issue I want your permission, Master. I want to help them both. Sirius Black was framed by Wormtail, who is known as Peter Pettigrew. Funny enough, there is a person in this castle who goes by that name. I’ve never seen them personally, but I see them on the map at times. If I can find Pettigrew and capture him and then somehow contact Black, I think I can work everything out. But I won’t do anything until you tell me to, Master.

Love,

Harry

Harry did not expect Tom’s reply until after the Quidditch final between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Instead of taking place the first weekend after the Easter holiday like normal, the match was pushed back a week due to the Gryffindor Seeker eating a pound of doxie eggs and getting sick. Still, that did nothing to the Slytherins as they trained every night leading up to the match. The morning of the match, Harry received a letter from Tom that made his heart soar. Not only did he give Harry permission to help Black and Lupin, but he gave him some much-needed news. “You guys can visit during the summer!” He said happily to his friends. “Our house’s reconstruction is going great! It’ll be fully ready by the summer!”

“That’s brilliant Harry,” Daphne said, “So you’re not with the muggles anymore?”

“Nope, it’s just me and Master,” Harry said dreamily. “We’re moving into this place called Riddle House in Little Hangleton. It’s a small manor that sits on a hill over the town.”

“Brilliant,” Theo said.

“Harry—oh Harry,” Pansy said, sounding excited. “You have to let me help decorate your room! At least help with your wardrobe?”

“Okay,” Harry smiled. He was feeling high today. First is the news about his new home and now he gets to win the Quidditch Cup for Slytherin! It will be an excellent day.

It was a very beautiful day for the match. The sun was shining and there was a fair wind that felt good against Harry’s face. None of the team spoke as they changed into their emerald robes. There was a mixture of excitement and nervousness in the locker room, and Harry started to feel the pressure of the match. He had to catch the snitch only when they were sixty or more points ahead of Gryffindor. A lot was riding on Harry for the correct moment he caught the snitch, and even more so on the Chasers to score those sixty points as quickly as possible.

Flint looked at them and cleared his throat, “It’s time,” he said, and they walked outside to a tidal wave of noise. Three-quarters of the crowd was wearing scarlet rosettes, waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them, or brandishing banners with slogans like “GO GRYFFINDOR!” and “LIONS FOR THE CUP!” Behind the Slytherin goal posts, however, two hundred people were wearing emerald: the silver serpent of Slytherin glittering on their flags. “Well, looks like we’re welcomed,” Draco joked as he and Harry shared a grimace.

“Just ignore them,” Flint said.

Lee Jordan was commentating as always. When he introduced the Slytherin team, they were answered with a wave of boos from three-quarters of the stadium, which Harry was used to. Flint shook hands with Wood, and everyone mounted their brooms. Madam Hooch blew her whistle, but the sound was lost in the roar from the crowd as fourteen brooms rose into the air. Harry felt his hair fly back off his forehead; his nerves left him in the trill of the flight. Though it felt different, lacking, somehow, compared to how he flew around as an owl.

“And it’s Gryffindor in possession, Alicia Spinner of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal post, looking good, Alicia! Argh, no—Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing up the field—WHAM!—nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it’s caught by—Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on Angelina—nice swerve around Montague—duck, Angelina, that’s a Bludger!—SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!”

Before Harry knew it, they were behind Thirty-zero. It seemed that Gryffindor was desperate to win. Harry kept an eye out for the Snitch as well as the other Seeker. He knew that he had to wait until they had enough points but he would still do his best to stop the other seeker if needed. “And it’s Gryffindor in possession again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle—Malfoy alongside her—poke him in the eye, Angelina!—it was a joke, Professor, it was a joke—oh no—Malfoy in possession, Malfoy flying toward the Gryffindor goal posts, come on now, Wood, save--!”

But Draco had scored; there was an eruption of cheers from the Slytherin end, and Lee swore so badly that Professor McGonagall tried to tug the magical megaphone away from him.

It was turning into a dirty game. Both teams quickly resorted to using any means necessary to get the quaffle. Penalties were given to both sides and Slytherin was able to bring the score up to forty-twenty. Fred and George seemed to be aiming the bludger at any Slytherin Chaser. Harry watched as Draco did some impressive flying spinning and diving around to avoid both bludgers and the other Chasers until he was in the scoring area and Bole hit the bludger at Wood just as Draco threw the quaffle—and scored!

The Slytherin team seemed to have come up with a strategy that worked flawlessly. Being the smallest and lightest of the chasers, Draco was easily able to bob and weave around all the other players, flying towards the Gryffindor goal at odd angles. Wood always prepared to block only to dart out of the way when a bludger shot towards him, letting Draco score easily. Thirty, forty, fifty—in twenty minutes, Draco scored three goals, making the game forty-fifty. “COME ON!” Harry heard Flint yell over Jordan’s commentary, “FASTER!”

They played faster. It was as if something woke up in the Slytherin team and they played as vicious as their mascot, striking at the Gryffindor Chasers and slithering in the air then scoring from seemingly nowhere. All the while, Harry chased around the Gryffindor Seeker, taunting him as he flew circles around the older year, and darting with a purpose as though he knew where the Snitch was. “Come on Gryffindor what’s going on!?” Lee Jordan yelled as Draco made another score. “Forty-Eighty Slytherin! Wake up Wood! Someone check if he’s being tampered!”

Just two more goals then Harry could get the Snitch! He looked over his shoulder to see the Gryffindor Seeker was still chasing him. Now that they were closer, Harry thought now was a good time to actively search for the snitch. “SLYTHERIN SCORES AGAIN! FOUL! THIS IS CHEATING!” Jordon yelled. Just one more… Harry began to pull up, rising higher and higher in the air, the Gryffindor seeker chasing right on his tail before Harry tilted and fell, flattening himself on his broom. Harry flew closer and closer to the ground, listening to Jordon’s commentating. “Slytherin steals the ball again! Someone stop Malfoy! FRED! GEORGE! STOP HIM! STOP HIM! Fred hits the bludger—NOO—Flint blocks it with his body! That has to be a foul!” Madam Hooch did not blow her whistle. Draco continued to speed towards Wood and threw the quaffle—he scored once more!

“Forty-One hundred Slytherin! What is going on?” Jordan demanded. Then Harry saw it, a golden glint near the grounds of the field. He changed his angle as he kept diving towards the Snitch. “Go! Go! Go!” he grunted out. He reached out towards the diving Snitch, the Gryffindor Seeker too far behind to even attempt to stop him. He grabbed the snitch and pulled out the dive, holding the snitch up victoriously!

Slytherin cheered so loudly that it almost drowned out the jeers and boos from the rest of the stadium. They did it! They won the Quidditch Cup! Then Draco sped towards him. He seized Harry around his neck and yelled loudly in his ear. The others came and they fell in a tangled many-armed hug, yelling hoarsely in victory.

The jeers and boos continued but Harry didn’t care. He won. He was with his friends and teammates and they were all happy—that was all that mattered.

Slytherin celebrated all night. Harry did not go to sleep until well after midnight, and even after, his euphoria at winning the Quidditch Cup lasted at least a week. Beltane came and went with the third years lighting a candle in their dormitories for the holiday as they performed the holiday’s ritual. June was approaching, and Harry finally decided to help Lupin and Black.

He was wandering the corridors, his Marauder’s Map open as he followed a now too familiar name. Peter Pettigrew. He kept seeing the dead man’s name walking around, now spending less and less time in the Gryffindor Tower and instead of scurrying around in the strangest corners of the castle and grounds. They were on the first floor, and from what Harry could tell from the map, Pettigrew was trying to go outside. So instead of studying for his finals, Harry followed him safe under the confides of the Invisibility Cloak.

He passed by students, squeezing to one side or the other. The first time he did this he was worried that he would be seen only for the students to continue on, oblivious to his presence. Where are you going? Harry thought as he kept looking around. Every time he saw a student, he quickly glanced at his map to see if it was Pettigrew, only to see that he was still far away from him. He kept walking around the first floor, going in and out of corridors with no real reason, as though Pettigrew was lost or trying to run away until they were outside. It was getting to be a cloudy day and Harry was relieved to finally be out of the cramped corridors.

He started running straight towards Pettigrew’s name. There were students on the grounds but under the invisibility cloak, nobody could see him. He could easily sneak up on this Pettigrew person and finally, see who he is. Pettigrew was going away from everyone towards the forbidden forest and the Whomping Willow, a tree that everyone was told to stay away from. Harry ran faster, his eyes darting back and forth between his surroundings and the map. They were away from everyone. He couldn’t see Pettigrew yet. But he was getting closer—so closer. Twenty feet away and yet he was alone. Ten feet, and yet he was the only person in the area.

Harry skid to a stop when the map said that he was right on top of Pettigrew. He took his wand out and quickly spun around. Was he under an invisibility cloak as well? Was that how the man kept hidden? Harry spun around slowly, his eyes squinting as he looked for anything that could indicate someone was in front of him invisible.

Grass shuffled and Harry looked down, expecting to see a footprint. But instead, he saw a rat. A common fat brown rat with a missing toe. Scabbers? Harry thought. He pointed his wand at the rat, “Accio Scabbers,” he said, and the rat flew up into the air towards him. Harry’s hand shot out of the cloak and grabbed the rat tightly.

The old rat struggled in the floating fist, scratching at Harry’s skin. Harry sucked in his breath in pain but kept his grip as he pulled off the invisibility cloak with his free hand. He stuffed it in an enchanted pocket of his robes and looked down at the rat. “Pettigrew?” He said questionably. Scabbers stopped and looked up at Harry, recognizing the name.

Harry chuckled. “Oh Peter, you have no idea how long I’ve been watching you,” he chuckled. “Let’s say you and I go and find Black, eh? It’ll be like a reunion of sorts.”

Scabbers doubled his efforts to escape Harry’s grip. Harry only squeezed in response and aimed his wand at the rodent. “You really need to stop,” he muttered. “Paralyticus!” The dark stunning spell hit the rat and it went slack in his hand. Harry chuckled and gave Pettigrew a couple of practice throws, tossing it in the air as high as he could before catching it.

“YOU!”

Harry turned around to see Ron and Hermione running towards him. “Can I help you?” he drawled.

“What are you doing?” Ron demanded.

Harry held up the rat innocently, “Looking for treats for Salazar and Hedwig,” he said. “Found this rat just running around in the fields.”

Ron stared at the rat and gasped, “You monster!” he yelled. “That’s Scabbers! Hermione! That monster killed Scabbers!”

“Oh? Is this your rat? I’m sorry I didn’t notice,” Harry chuckled. “But looking closer, I can see the family resemblance.” He laughed as Ron pulled his wand out and aimed it at him. “Careful Weasley, your rat is fine,” Harry said, dangling Scabbers by the tail. “I just knocked him unconscious. Though he looked so old, so we cannot really blame me if he dies of shock, now can we?”

“You bastard! Give me back my pet!” Ron yelled.

“No, I don’t think I will,” Harry said. He looked at the rat again then back to Ron and Hermione, “You think if I throw him high enough Hedwig will just swoop in and snatch him in the air?”

But before they could move, they heard the soft pounding of gigantic paws. … Something was bounding toward them, quiet as a shadow—an enormous, pale-eyed, jet-black dog. Harry reached for his wand, but it was too late—the dog had made an enormous leap and the front paws hit him on the chest; he keeled over backward in a whirl of hair; he felt its hot breath, saw inch-long teeth—

But the force of its leap had carried it too far; it rolled off him. Dazed, feeling as though his ribs were broken, Harry tried to stand up; he could hear it growling as it skidded around for a new attack. He pocketed Pettigrew as Ron and Hermione ran for him.

The dog sprang back towards Harry and its jaw fastened on Harry’s ankle. He fell again and only thought of curling around and himself, making sure Pettigrew doesn’t escape, as he was dragged away towards the Whomping Willow. He thought for sure that the branches would stop the beast. But they did not move, and they both disappeared into darkness.

Chapter Text

Chapter 40

Family Reunion

He was being dragged through a pitch-black tunnel. The dog’s grip did not lighten as he dragged Harry through the tunnel at a surprising speed. Harry knew that his ankle at least was broken but refused to scream at the pain. At some point, the tunnel started to slant upwards and the ground underneath Harry strange enough slowly turned into wood. Then, suddenly, they were in a disordered, dusty room. Papers were peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all boarded up. Still, the dog dragged Harry through the room, up a set of stairs, onto a dark landing, and then into a room with a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings and collapsed footing that Harry was thrown onto. He finally yelled at the pain and scrambled to sit up and glare at the dog.

The Grim paced back and forth, growling periodically as it looked at Harry every now and again, as though wondering how to start. “Can you stop pacing, Black?” Harry said irritably, taking a chance. The dog stopped and stared at Harry, who smirked. “That is you, isn’t it, Sirius Black?” He asked. “Change already then, I can’t very well speak to a dog.”

The dog continued to stare at Harry for a moment. Then, before his eyes, the dog stood on its hind legs as it changed into a man. A mass of filthy, matted hair hung to his elbows. If eyes hadn’t been shining out of the deep, dark sockets, he might have been a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull. His yellow teeth were bared in a grin. It was Sirius Black.

“How?” he croaked. His voice sounded as though he had long since lost the habit of using it.

“It’s the only way you would be able to sneak around Hogwarts for so long and stay undetected,” Harry reasoned. His leg pulsed in pain, and he sucked in his breath.

“Don’t move,” Black said, “You will damage that leg even more.”

“No thanks to you,” Harry grumbled. “Some godfather you are.”

“You know about that?” Black asked, surprised.

Harry glanced up at him and couldn’t help but laugh. “I know a lot of things, Black,” he said, “That is why I haven’t attacked you yet.”

“You’re as cocky as your father,” Black commented. Harry stopped. It felt odd being compared to his father. He felt like he was sweating even though he didn’t remotely feel hot. Harry swallowed and did his best to hide all of this from Black. Instead, he just raised an eyebrow. Black looked down at Harry’s leg and grimaced. “I’m sorry for your leg Harry, truly, I didn’t mean to drag you down all the way.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Harry said, sounding a little sardonic. Black flinched at the tone and Harry sighed. He glanced at the door and thought for a moment. “If I know Weasley and Granger, they will be too Gryffindorish and decide that they must rescue me. Especially since I have a friend on me. I would say we have, I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes before we are interrupted?”

“Gryffindorish?” Sirius Black repeated. He looked at Harry’s robes and saw the emerald trim. “You’re not in Gryffindor?”

“No, I’m in Slytherin however I do not think we have the time to discuss that,” Harry said promptly.

“James’ son is in Slytherin,” Black repeated, staring at Harry almost heartbroken. He opened his mouth as if to continue but stopped. Harry huffed.

“Yes, I am in Slytherin, what about it?” He said. “Like I said, we have a limited time before we are interrupted, and I will have to disarm Granger and Weasley before they do something stupid.”

“You mean they aren’t your friends?”

Harry laughed. It may have sounded mean, but he didn’t care. The thought that he would ever be friends with Granger or Weasley, especially Weasley, was too ludicrous for him to even think of. “Not even remotely so, no,” he said. “We were arguing. Because I have something very important in my pocket.” He quickly pulled out his ebony wand and aimed it at Black as he pulled the stunned Pettigrew out of his pocket. “Scabbers, Ron’s pet rat,” he said as he held Pettigrew by the tail, “or rather, Peter Pettigrew. Am I correct in thinking that he is what you really wanted?”

“Give him to me Harry,” Black said urgently. “Now, please—you don’t know who you’re holding now!”

“Don’t I?” Harry asked. He looked at Pettigrew for a moment as though examining a piece of meat he wanted to purchase. “Peter Pettigrew, nickname Wormtail, he was part of the Marauders, a group of friends that included you, him, my dad, and Professor Lupin. He was the one who betrayed my parents to the Dark Lord Voldemort, not you, and I am guessing since he is still alive, he may have been the one to kill those muggles?”

“I—how?”

Harry just gave Black a smile, “I’m a very good Slytherin,” he said. “But let’s not discuss this man for now. He won’t wake up for a bit, hopefully.” He shook Pettigrew who did not react. “I found him in the field, I was actually following the Marauder’s Map. Kept seeing him on the map so I followed him until, much to my surprise, it was a rat I saw instead of a man. So I captured him, and that was when Weasley and Granger—and shortly you—caught me.”

“Then that makes things easier,” Black said. “Give me Pettigrew, Harry. He’s the one who killed your parents—he’s the one who caused all of this!” Black had a crazed look in his eyes that Harry did not like. He pocketed Pettigrew and immediately, Black lunged for him only to stop at Harry’s wand.

“Why do you want him?” Harry asked. “What are you going to do with him?”

“What?” Black balked. “Look Harry—you need to see that I’ve been waiting for this chance! You don’t understand!”

“I don’t?” Harry asked. “I think I seem to understand the important parts. Pettigrew betrayed my parents to Voldemort. You noticed this immediately and tried to track him down only to find him in a crowd most likely. And then, if it is true that you are innocent in everything, Pettigrew caused an explosion that killed the thirteen muggles, cutting off a finger and then running away as a rat while you are arrested and brought to Azkaban. So, my question still remains what will you do with him?”

“I’ll kill him,” Black seethed, “I’ll kill him for everything he’s done to me—to us, Harry! Surely you understand, this is right!”

Harry hummed and pulled out Pettigrew and stared at him in thought. They heard footsteps down below and Harry sighed, “Faster than expected,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, can we hold this for a moment?”

“SCABBERS!” Ron Weasley’s voice yelled out. “Where are you?”

“Harry!”

The door burst open, and Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger burst through, their wands drawn. Harry aimed his wand at them and said, “Expelliarmus!” The two wands flew out of their hands and towards Harry, who had to drop Pettigrew to catch them.

“Potter!” Ron snarled. He saw Pettigrew on Harry’s lap and lunged at both the rat and his wand, but Harry whipped his wand and rope appeared, tying the boy at his feet and causing him to trip and fall on the dusty floor.

“There we are,” Harry said satisfied. “Do you need to be tied up as well, Granger?”

“The dog, where is it?” Hermione Granger asked.

“Sirius Black is standing behind you,” Harry said casually. Granger turned and screamed at the sight of him. She back away quickly towards Harry who tucked her wand into his pocket.

“I knew it!” Ron said, “I knew that you were helping Black!”

“No, I wasn’t, now please shut up,” Harry sighed. “I am really hating how this is becoming a thing between us.” He looked back at Black. “You want the rat to kill him?” he asked.

“NO!” Ron yelled.

Hermione tried to get Pettigrew from Harry, but he pushed her away. “I don’t think I’ll let you kill the rat, Black,” Harry said.

Granger looked between Harry and Black, “He’s trying to kill you, Harry,” she said. “He broke into Gryffindor Tower looking for you—not Scabbers! Why would he even be interested in him?”

“Because your rat is much more cowardly than either of you can imagine,” Harry said. Pettigrew gave a small sound and Harry looked at him, “Ah! That worn off much sooner than expected.” Pettigrew seemed to realize where he was and started to flail around in Harry’s hand, scratching and biting him to let go.

“Let him go!” Ron squealed.

“Harry—listen to me, this man killed your parents,” Hermione begged. “You have to listen to reason!”

“How do you know he killed my parents?” Harry asked, turning to Granger.

“We—we overheard the Minister one day at the Three Broomsticks,” Hermione confessed. “He was talking with Hagrid, Professor McGonagall, and Madam Rosmerta.”

Harry hummed and looked at Black. “I don’t deny it,” Black said very quietly. “But if you knew the whole story.”

“They don’t need to know the whole story,” Harry said. “Weasley will not believe, and Granger will argue against it until she’s blue in the face. Ignore them, Black. It’s just you and me. As I was saying, I need this rat. Particularly to free you.”

“Me?” Black whispered, “but why?”

“He’s a murderer!” Ron yelled. “Potter he’s a murderer and you’re no worse! You’re both Dark Wizards!”

Harry just hummed, giving a little cocky smirk as he twirled his wand in his fingers. “Not that either of you would believe me, but actually no, Sirius Black is not a murderer.”

“You’re mad!” Ron whined. “Hermione, he’s mad!”

“Harry please, you have to listen, he’ll kill you,” Hermione tried again. “Scabbers means nothing—”

“You’re wrong, Scabbers means everything,” Harry said. He threw the rat into the air, causing both Hermione and Ron to scream. He pointed his wand at the rat and it stopped in midair before coming down softly. He was about to bounce the rat again when there was a new sound. Muffled footsteps were echoing up through the floor—someone was moving downstairs. “This place isn’t really secretive, is it?” Harry asked, pocketing the rat once more as Hermione screamed.

“WE’RE UP HERE! WE’RE UP HERE—SIRIUS BLACK—QUICK!”

The footsteps were thundering up the stairs. The door of the room burst open in a shower of red sparks and Professor Lupin came hurtling into the room, his face bloodless, his wand raised and ready. His eyes flickered over Ron, lying on the floor, Hermione, cowering next to the door, to Harry, sitting on the bed with his foot at an odd angle and his wand out pointed at Black.

“Expelliarmus!” Lupin shouted.

Harry’s wand flew out of his hands. Lupin caught it deftly, then moved into the room, staring at Black. Harry felt suddenly empty. How dare Lupin do that when he was trying to help them.

Then Lupin spoke, in a very tense voice. “Where is he, Sirius?”

Black’s face was quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he didn’t move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his hand and pointed straight at Harry.

“But then…” Lupin muttered, staring at Black so intently it seemed he was trying to read his mind. “… why hasn’t he shown himself before now? Unless—” Lupin’s eyes suddenly widened, as though he was now seeing something beyond Black, something none of the rest could see, “—unless he was the one… unless you switched… without telling me!”

Very slowly, his sunken gaze never leaning Lupin’s face, Black nodded.

“Professor,” Ron yelled, “What is going on?”

Lupin lowered his wand, gazing fixedly at Black. The professor walked to Black’s side and embraced him.

“I DON’T BELIEVE IT!” Hermione screamed.

Lupin let go of Black and turned to her. She had raised herself off the floor and was pointing at Lupin, wild-eyed. “You—you—”

“Hermione—”

“—you and him!”

“Hermione, calm down—”

“I didn’t tell anyone!” Hermione shrieked. “I’ve been covering up for you—”

“Hermione, listen to me, please!” Lupin shouted. “I can explain—”

“NO!” Hermione screamed. “Harry, don’t trust him, he’s been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too—he’s a werewolf!”

There was a ringing silence. Everyone’s eyes were now on Lupin, who looked remarkably calm, though rather pale.

“Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione,” he said. “Only one out of three, I’m afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don’t want Harry dead. …” An odd shiver passed over his face. “But I won’t deny that I am a werewolf.”

Ron made a valiant effort to get up but fell back with a whimper of pain. Lupin made toward him, looking concerned, but Ron gasped.

“Get away from me, werewolf!”

Lupin stopped dead. Then, with an obvious effort, he turned to Hermione and said, “How long have you known?”

“Ages,” Hermione whispered. “Since I did Professor Snape’s essay. …”

“He’ll be delighted,” Lupin said coolly. “He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant. Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?”

“Both,” Hermione said quietly.

Lupin forced a laugh.

“You’re the cleverest witch of your age I’ve ever met, Hermione.”

“I’m not,” Hermione whispered, “If I’d been a bit cleverer, I’d have told everyone what you are!”

“But they already know,” Lupin said. “At least, the staff do.”

“Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf?” Ron gasped. “Is he mad?”

Oh finally, he said something that makes sense, Harry thought.

“Some of the staff thought so,” Lupin said. “He had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I’m trustworthy.”

Harry gave a huge sigh. He pushed himself to the edge of the bed, wincing at the pain of moving his broken foot. “I would like my wand back, Professor,” he said calmly.

“Harry,” Hermione tried but he just ignored her.

“Black, yourself, and I know what is really going on,” he continued. “We were just talking about him before we were interrupted—twice. So please, my wand?” Harry held out his hand expectantly. Lupin looked at Black who nodded slowly.

Lupin took the few steps to cross across the room and gave Harry his wand before returning to Black’s side. “Harry,” Lupin said, “May I see the rat?”

“Why do you all want Scabbers?” Ron demanded. “What does he have to do with this?”

“I told you, Weasley,” Harry sighed, “Everything.” He pulled Scabbers out of his pocket, thrashing desperately. Harry had to hold him by the tail to stop him from escaping. Ron made a nose as Lupin moved closer once more to Harry. He seemed to be holding his breath as he gazed intently at Scabbers.

“What?” Ron said angrily once more. “What’s my rat have to do with this?”

“That’s not a rat,” Sirius Black croaked suddenly.

“What d’you mean—of course he’s a rat—”

“No, he’s not,” Lupin said quietly. “He’s a wizard.”

“Peter Pettigrew,” Harry said, “He’s an Animagus.”

It took a few seconds for the absurdity of the statement to sink in. Then Ron yelled, “You’re all mental!”

“Ridiculous!” Hermione said faintly.

“Turns out my godfather is bad at murdering,” Harry sighed, “Which is good actually, I don’t really want a murderer for a godfather, never mind two of them.” He looked between Black and Lupin.

“But Peter Pettigrew is dead!” Hermione insisted. “You killed him twelve years ago!”

“I meant to,” Black growled, his yellow teeth bared, “but little Peter got the better of me … not this time, though!”

He made to move again but Harry aimed his wand at Black, pushing the man back as he whispered a spell he would rather not have Granger or Weasley hear. “We were debating that,” he said in a normal volume. “I will not let you have Pettigrew; I need him to free you.”

“Don’t give him my rat!” Ron yelled and Harry sighed as he rolled his eyes. He looked down at Ron, who was still trying to get out of Harry’s ropes.

“They’ve got a right to know everything,” Lupin said. “Ron’s kept him as a pet! There are parts of it even I don’t understand! And Harry is owe the whole truth, Sirius!”

Black stood up, his hollowed eyes were fixed on Scabbers. “All right then,” Black said, without taking his eyes off the rat. “Tell them whatever you like. But make it quick, Remus. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for.”

“You’re nutters, both of you,” Ron said shakily.

“What do you know, Harry?” Lupin asked. “Please tell us everything.”

Harry nodded and thought for a moment. “Pettigrew is the one who betrayed my parents. For some reason, both he and Black are Animagus and when Black confronted Pettigrew, Pettigrew caused an explosion and disappeared as a rat. He then must have spent the next twelve years as Scabbers while Black was in Azkaban. What I don’t know is how they’ve become animagi, as well as how it is that you escaped from Azkaban,” Harry looked over at Black.

“But that can’t be,” Hermione interrupted. “People would know if Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework—the Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals; there’s a register showing what animal they can become, and their markings and things … and I went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register and there have been only seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew’s name wasn’t on the list—”

Harry had barely had time to marvel at the effort Hermione put into her homework when Lupin started to laugh.

“Right again, Hermione!” he said. “But the Ministry never knew that there used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts.”

“If you’re going to tell them the story, get a move on, Remus,” Black snarled. “I’ve waited twelve years; I’m not going to wait much longer.”

“All right… but you’ll need to help me, Sirius,” Lupin said, “I only know how it began.” He paused for a moment. “I was young when I was turned into a werewolf. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The potion that Professor Snape had been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe; you see. As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform. … I am able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again.

“Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully-fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren’t likely to want their children exposed to me.

“But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn’t come to school. The Whomping Willow, in fact, was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted because I came to Hogwarts. This house—” Lupin looked miserably around the room— “the tunnel that leads to it—they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous.”

“My transformations in those days were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumor. … Even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don’t dare approach it.

“But apart from my transformation, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends, Sirius Black … Peter Pettigrew… and, of course, your father, Harry—James Potter.

“Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her … I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth.

“And they didn’t desert me at all. Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable but the best times of my life. They became Animagi.”

“My father became an Animagi?” Harry asked, feeling a little closer to his dad with another similarity.

“Yes, indeed,” Lupin said. “It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. They finally managed it in our fifth year. They could each turn into a different animal at will.”

“And so, I’m guessing they were able to help you as animals, rather than humans?” Harry asked.

“Yes, Harry, exactly,” Lupin nodded.

“I see,” Harry muttered. He looked over at Black, “Then how is it that you knew that Pettigrew was here at Hogwarts? As well as escape Azkaban? Short answers, if you would, because both you and I are impatient.”

Black gave a dry chuckle. “Just like James.” He put one of his clawlike hands inside his robes and took out a crumpled piece of paper, which he smoothed flat and held out to show the others. It was a photograph of Ron and his family that had appeared in the Daily Prophet the previous summer, and there, on Ron’s shoulder, was Scabbers.

“How did you get this?” Lupin asked Black, thunderstruck.

“Fudge,” Black said. “When he came to inspect Azkaban last year, he gave me his paper. And there was Peter, on the front page … on this boy’s shoulder. … I knew him at once … how many times had I seen him transform? And the caption said the boy would be going back to Hogwarts… to where Harry was…"

"My God," Lupin said softly, staring from Scabbers to the picture in the paper and back again. “His front paw.”

“What about it?” Ron said defiantly.

“He’s got a toe missing,” Black said.

“Of course,” Lupin breathed. “So simple … so brilliant he cut it off himself?”

“I said that,” Harry drawled. “Anyway, how did you get out of Azkaban, Black? And how did he exactly betrayed my parents?”

“When they went into hiding, they needed a Secret-Keeper,” Black said. “I as good as killed them. I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me. … I’m to blame, I know it. … The night they died, I’d arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he’d gone. Yet there was no sign of a struggle. It didn’t feel right. I was scared. I set out for your parents’ home straight away. And when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies … I realized what Peter must’ve done … what I’d done. …”

His voice broke. He turned away.

“Enough of this,” Lupin said, and there was a steely note in his voice that Harry had never heard before. “There’s one certain way to prove what really happened. Harry, if you mind, I would like the rat.”

Harry nodded and leaned as far as he could without putting weight on his broken foot. The rat began to squeak without stopping, twisting, and turning, his tiny black eyes bulging in his head. “Sirius would also need a wand, just for a second,” Lupin said. Harry nodded once more and gave Lupin both Hermione’s and Ron’s wands along with the rat. Lupin gave Black Ron’s.

“Together?” Black said quietly.

“I think so,” Lupin said, holding the rat tightly in one hand and his wand in the other. “On the count of three. One—two—THREE!”

A flash of blue-white light erupted from both wands; for a moment, Scabbers was frozen in midair, his small gray form twisting madly—Ron yelled—the rat fell and hit the floor. There was another blinding flash of light and then—

It was like watching a sped-up film of a growing tree. A head was shooting upward from the ground; limbs were sprouting; a moment later, a man was standing where Scabbers had been, cringing and wringing his hands.

He was very short, hardly taller than Harry and Granger. His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. He had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who had lost a lot of weight in a short time. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabbers’ fur, and something of a rat lingered around his pointed nose and his very small, watery eyes. He looked around at them all, his breathing fast and shallow. Harry saw his eyes dart to the door and back again.

“Well, hello, Peter,” Lupin said pleasantly, “Long time, no see.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 41

The Cost of Dark Magic

“S-Sirius … R—Remus …” Peter Pettigrew’s voice was squeaky. Again, his eyes darted toward the door. “My old friends…”

Black raised his wand, but Lupin seized him around the wrist, gave him a warning look, then turned again to Pettigrew, his voice light and casual.

“We’ve been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened the night Lily and James died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed—”

“Remus,” Pettigrew gasped, and Harry could see beads of sweat breaking out over his pasty face, “you don’t believe him, do you. …? He tried to kill me, Remus.”

“So we’ve heard,” Lupin said, more coldly. “I’d like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Peter, if you’d be so—”

“He’s come to try and kill me again!” Pettigrew squeaked suddenly, pointing at Black, and Harry saw that he used his middle finger, because his index finger was missing. “He killed Lily and James and now he’s going to kill me too. … You’ve got to help me, Remus.”

Black’s face looked more skull-like than ever as he stared at Pettigrew with his fathomless eyes.

“No one’s going to try and kill you until we’ve sorted a few things out,” Lupin said.

“Sorted things out?” Pettigrew squeaked, looking wildly about him once more, eyes taking in the boarded windows and, again, the only door. “I knew he’d come after me! I knew he’d be back for me! I’ve been waiting for this for twelve years!”

“You knew Sirius was going to break out of Azkaban?” Lupin said, his brow furrowed. “When nobody has ever done it before?”

“He’s got dark powers the rest of us can only dream of!” Pettigrew shouted shrilly. “How else did he get out of there? I suppose He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named taught him a few tricks!”

Black started to laugh, a horrible mirthless laugh that filled the whole room. “Voldemort, teach me tricks?” he said.

Pettigrew flinched as though Black had brandished a whip at him.

“What, scared to hear your old master’s name?” Black said. “I don’t blame you, Peter. His lot aren’t very happy with you, are they? You’ve been hiding from Voldemort’s old supporters. I heard things in Azkaban, Peter. They all think you’re dead, or you’d have to answer to them … I’ve heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep. Voldemort went to the Potters’ on your information … and Voldemort met his downfall there. And not all Voldemort’s supporters ended up in Azkaban, did they? There are still plenty out here, biding their time, pretending they’ve seen the error of their ways… If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter—”

“Don’t know … what you’re talking about…”Pettigrew said again, more shrilly than ever. He wiped his face on his sleeve and looked up at Lupin. “You don’t believe this—this madness, Remus—”

“I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty in understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat,” Lupin said evenly.

“Innocent, but scared!” Pettigrew squealed. “If Voldemort’s supporters were after me, it was because I put one of their best men in Azkaban—the spy, Sirius Black!”

Black’s face contorted. “How dare you,” he growled, sounding suddenly like the bear-sized dog he had been. “I a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter—I’ll never understand why I didn’t see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who’d look after you, didn’t you? It used to be us … me and Remus … and James. …”

Pettigrew wiped his face again; he was almost panting for breath. Harry sighed rather loudly and aimed his wand at Pettigrew, “How long are you going to drag this along?” he demanded.

Eyes were suddenly on Harry. “Harry!” Pettigrew begged as he began towards him, falling on his knees. “Sweet Harry, you look just like your father … just like him …”

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY!” Black roared. “HOW DARE OYU FACE HIM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM!”

“Harry,” Pettigrew whispered, shuffling toward him, hand outstretched. “Harry, James wouldn’t have wanted me killed … James would have understood, Harry … he would have shown me mercy …”

“But Pettigrew,” Harry said coldly, his wand still pointed at the man, “It is because of you that my father isn’t here to show it. We are going to bring you to the Dementors. You’ll tell them and the Minister exactly how it was you all along, and then I’m sure the Dementors will give you a nice big kiss as thanks.”

“No!” Pettigrew screamed, as though his fate has been sealed. “Mercy, please! Mercy! You don’t understand! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was taking over everywhere! He would have killed me—”

“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!” Black roared. “DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!”

Harry sighed and flicked his wand, muttering “Paralyticus!” The spell shot out of his wand and hit Pettigrew who seized up as though hit by a thunderbolt and collapsed. Black looked at Harry with a dark understanding and grimaced.

“Harry, what have you done?” he whispered.

“We had everything we needed from him, and I rather he be stunned than stammering pathetically like that,” Harry said casually.

“He should be alive when I kill him,” Black muttered.

“No, not kill,” Harry said. “Like I said, he will be telling everything to the dementors and Minister. If anyone deserves Azkaban, he does. Speaking of, how is it that you escaped?”

“I spent most of my time as a dog in my cell,” Sirius said. “When it all became too much… I transformed into a dog. The dementors, they can’t see. They feel their way toward people by feeding off their emotions. … They could tell that my feelings were less—less human, less complex when I was a dog … but they thought, of course, that I was losing my mind like everyone else in there, so it didn’t trouble them. But I was weak, very weak, and I had no hope of driving them away from me without a wand. But then I saw Peter in that picture … I realized he was at Hogwarts with Harry… perfectly positioned to act, if one hint reached his ears that the Dark Side was gathering strength again, ready to strike at the moment he could be sure of his allies and to deliver the last Potter to them. If he gave them Harry, who’d dare say he’d betrayed Lord Voldemort? He’d be welcome back with honors.…”

Harry couldn’t help but think of how ironic the phrase is. If Pettigrew were to somehow capture him and bring him to Voldemort, the man would be receiving torturous punishment instead of honors for daring to harm what was Tom’s.

“So you see, I had to do something, I was the only one who knew Peter was still alive. It was as if someone had lit a fire in my head, and the dementors couldn’t destroy it. It gave me strength, it cleared my mind. So, one night, when they opened my door to bring me food, I slipped past them as a dog. I was thin enough to slip through the bars, I swam back to the mainland as a dog and came to the Hogwarts grounds as a dog,” Sirius finished explaining.

“Okay,” Harry nodded, “Thank you… Sirius,” he said.

“Yes, of course,” Sirius said however he stared at Harry oddly.

Harry undid the rope holding Ron down and instead helped Professor Lupin tie Pettigrew up with rope. Sirius helped Harry stand after Lupin strapped his leg with bandages that strapped it tightly to a splint. Harry put his weight gingerly on the leg and didn’t wince. “Thanks,” he said.

Lupin muttered, “Mobilicorpus.” As though invisible strings were tied to Pettigrew, he was pulled into the air, his head lolling unpleasantly. Professor Lupin had Pettigrew in front of him as he along with Weasley and Granger led the pack, Sirius helping Harry in the back of their strange party.

It was difficult moving in the tunnel. Pettigrew kept bumping his lolling head on the low ceiling. “Harry,” Sirius said abruptly to Harry as they made their slow progress along the tunnel. “What was that spell you used?”

Harry sighed, his heart pounding. He didn’t want his first real conversation with his godfather to be about this. “You recognized it, didn’t you?” he whispered.

“I do,” Black whispered, “You are lucky that Remus didn’t. Harry, what you’re playing with is dangerous. Dark Magic is not something you can control.”

“But I can control it, and it’s not dangerous,” Harry whispered. “My mentor taught me everything I know and nothing has been dangerous.”

“Mentor? What do you mean?” Sirius demanded. “Do you mean that boy I saw you during the summer?”

“That—that was Tom,” Harry whispered, his cheeks blushing slightly. “He’s my mentor’s son… and my boyfriend.”

“Did they force you into this Harry?” Sirius asked. “Dark Magic is not something you want to mess with! You’re still young enough to turn back from it.”

Harry sighed. “I’m sorry but I’m not going to turn away,” he said. “I know that I’m not exactly what you imagine but I won’t stop being who I am, and this is what I am.”

“A Dark Wizard,” Sirius spat, as though the thought was disgusting.

“Yeah,” Harry said softly. “But I’m much more than that. I’m a great flyer, you know—I’m on my Quidditch team!”

“I saw,” Sirius said. “I’m still reeling over the fact that you’re a Slytherin, but you played very well in your matches, I’ve seen them all as a dog.”

Harry smiled at that. He started to feel warmer towards the man next to him. Still, he thought there was some distrust between them, so he hoped that a small lie would fix it. “I would never join with those monsters,” he whispered. “I would never turn into someone like Pettigrew.”

“I never said—”

“But you worried, even if you didn’t want to,” Harry whispered. “That I would run away to Voldemort. But don’t worry. I would never do that. This isn’t about joining Voldemort’s side, I would never even dream of it. But, I grew up with it. My mentor—Tom’s father—he saved me when I was seven. He showed me things I could never imagine and raised me but he never forced me into the Dark Arts. That was always my choice. And, actually, it’s because of the Dark Arts I feel closer to parents.”

“What? How?” Sirius demanded.

“There’s a ritual that allows you to become an Animagus, but instead of turning into one animal, you turn into two,” Harry explained. “I did that during Ostara—uhh Easter—and it was amazing.” He started to smile and turned to look at Sirius, his eyes sparkling with joy. “I can fly! And run as fast as I can. I can turn into an owl and a huge dog, kind of like you. I was told that the first form I turn into is my real form if I were to turn into an Animagus like how you and my dad did, while the other is a gift from the Dark Arts. I turned into a dog first and then an owl. I’m not going to lie—it hurt pretty bad. But like it was also incredibly awesome!”

“I see,” Sirius muttered. “Listen, Harry, your uhh mentor… what is his name?”

“Why?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“I need to know about the person raising my godson,” Sirius said. Harry frowned and looked forward for a moment. He hasn’t really prepared for this. He didn’t want to say something now only to have Tom contradict it if and when he and Sirius meet. So, he decided to keep it simple and vague, “His name is Tom,” he said. “My Tom is actually a junior.”

“Your… boyfriend,” Sirius said slowly, and Harry nodded. “And… he is in Slytherin too?”

“No,” Harry said hesitantly. “He actually goes to Durmstrang.”

“I see,” Sirius said shortly. They walked for a moment as Harry rubbed his neck, feeling awkward. Sirius gave a sad sigh next to him and said, “Then, I take it that I can’t have you live with me?”

“What?”

“I just thought… that you would want to, you know, live in a different house…” Sirius said.

“Ohh,” Harry said, his cheeks turning red. “I—thank you, really, but I don’t think I can ever leave Tom… or my mentor.”

“I see,” Sirius sighed, looking defeated.

“But—that doesn’t mean that you can’t visit whenever you want to!” Harry said quickly. “Once your name is cleared, you can visit almost every day!”

Sirius’s gaunt face broke into the first true smile Harry had seen upon it. The difference it made was startling, as though a person ten years younger were shining through the starved mask; for a moment, he was recognizable as the man who had laughed at Harry’s parents’ wedding.

They did not speak again until they had reached the end of the tunnel. Granger, Lupin, and Weasley exited first with Pettigrew behind them with Harry and Sirius following.

The grounds were very dark now; the only light came from the distant windows of the castle. Without a word, they set off. Silently they tramped through the grounds, the castle light growing slowly larger. Pettigrew was still drifting weirdly ahead of Sirius, his chin bumping on his chest. And then—

Everything seemed to become darker. Colder. Harry looked around as the cold intensified and Granger screamed. Dementors, at least a hundred of them, gliding in a black mass around the grounds towards them. The familiar, icy cold penetrated his insides, fog started to obscure his vision; more were appearing out of the darkness on every side; they were encircling them. …

“RUN!” Lupin yelled. “Think of something happy and run!”

Harry pulled his wand out as they ran towards the castle grounds. The dark mass came closer. The icy feeling taking a strong hold deep inside Harry. It was getting hard to breathe, hard to think. Tom and I living together. Tom and I living in our own home. Sirius visiting.  He aimed his wand over his shoulder and shouted, “Expecto Patronum!” Pain shot through his arm that forced him to scream. A white fog erupted from his wand but quickly disappeared as Harry tripped over from the pain. His broken ankle surging along with his arm.

“Harry!” Someone yelled. Everyone stopped as the black mass continued to approach. Harry could hear a faint rattling from afar. He screamed, pushing himself to stand again as an arm pulled him up. Sirius was next to him defenseless. His head was swimming. It was harder now to form thoughts, but he fought through it.

Tom. Sirius. Home. Tom. Sirius. Home. Tom. Kissing. Home.  He aimed his wand at the large mass, “Expecto Patronum!” More pain erupted in his arm, but he gritted his teeth as he forced his magic through his wand. Thin silvery wisps shot out and hovered before him for a moment. Next to him, Harry saw Lupin struggling to summon his own Patronus, a stronger silver mist forming around the man and the unconscious Pettigrew.

He heard screaming from behind him and turned to see Weasley and Granger stumbling backward as two dementors broke off from the wall of black towards them. Harry ran and aimed his wand at the two dementors. “Expecto Patronum!” He was ready for the pain as a stronger wall of silver mist erupted from his wand. The dementors flew to the Patronus and were repelled. “Do something!” Weasley whimpered.

“Shut up,” Harry spat as he tried to put more power into his spell. The pain spread from his arm to his shoulder, his muscles and bones aching. He screamed through the pain but was able to keep some of the dementors at bay.

They were all backed together. Harry could barely stand. Everything hurt. Next to him, Professor Lupin looked exhausted, but he kept his wand at the ready. “Harry, you need to help me make an opening, any opening,” Lupin said, sounding more exhausted than Harry. “Ron, Hermione, once you see the opening, run! Run and get help. Any help!”

“Y-Yeah,” Weasley said, nodding weakly and his voice high with fear.

Harry swallowed the growing fear inside him. He looked at Lupin and Sirius and Sirius stared at Harry and the way he was giving labored breaths. Recognition came to Sirius’s eyes and Harry looked away before he could feel ashamed. He could do it. It was going to hurt, he knew it would, but he had to do this.

Harry squeezed his eyes and forced his mind through the icy fog to focus on his home, his new home with Tom. He and Tom would kiss and hold hands—date and finally be together and every night Sirius and Remus would visit. Everyone would get along and the house would finally be the home Harry wanted. The warm feeling filled Harry to the brim. He could do this, he knew he could. Breathing heavily he aimed his wand at the black mass as it closed in. “Expecto Patronum!” His arm pulsed in pain but nothing came out. “Expecto Patronum!” The pain quickly spread and Harry gave a soft, weak noise at the pain. The black mass continued to close in and the low rattling sucking noises from the dementors surrounded them, becoming louder and louder. Tom Sirius Home. Home. Home. Home in their arms! “Expecto Patronum! Expecto—Expecto—” Harry’s legs started to give. His broken ankle rolled and Harry fell to one knee. “No come on,” he growled out and banged his leg. It was hard to stay awake. He was so cold. His arm shook as he kept it pointed. He had to do this. He needed to save Sirius.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

Warmth surrounded them as out of Harry’s wand shot out not the usual silvery mist but a solid mass that was almost as tall as him and on all fours, a large dog. The Patronus shot towards the dementors, and Harry screamed. It was as though something was pulling his brain from his spine as well as breaking all of his bones. The pain was so intense, far worse than anything Harry has experienced before. His body wanted to fail. Every muscle of him wanted to stop and collapse, but he kept the spell going. The dog shot through the wall of dementors and for a moment they all saw the lights of Hogwarts.

“RUN!” Sirius screamed hoarsely and Ron and Hermione ran off through the hole, disappearing almost instantly as the dementors flew back in place. Harry kept his Patronus going strong, focusing more and more magic into the giant dog as it leapt and kept the dementors at bay. His pain started to become white noise. Dots appeared in his vision, but he kept it strong. He had to keep the spell going as long as he could.

Whenever a dementor tried to lunge at one of them, Harry’s Patronus leapt to meet it like a vicious wolf, chasing after the dementor its jaws snapping. “Keep it up Harry,” Sirius said, “Help will come soon.” They heard a thump next to them. Professor Lupin fell to the ground, unconscious. Sirius ran towards him only for a dementor to glide towards them. Harry’s Patronus barely reached them in time to push the dementor away. Sirius fell next to Remus and his breath started to rattle.

“Sirius!” Harry screamed and his body spasmed. He fell as the white noise and pain took over. The pain was so intense that words and thoughts could barely form. The black mass of dementors slowly closed in around them. In the back of his mind, Harry heard his mother’s screams again. He heard his father screaming at his mother to run away. And lastly, as he watched his Patronus disintegrate into nothing, he heard the high cruel laugh of his master, and he knew no more.

Chapter Text

Chapter 42

Fractured Connection

Harry woke up in the hospital bed. His foot was properly bandaged but as he tried to look for his glasses, he felt that his entire body was sore. “You’re awake.”

A blurred man was sitting in front of him. Harry reached for his glasses and the man stood up. He walked to Harry’s bedside and picked something up from the table and slowly slid Harry’s glasses back on his face. Harry blinked as Sirius Black came into view. “How?” he asked.

“You’ve been sleeping for more than sixteen hours—magical exhaustion,” Sirius said with a tired smile. “As for how we’re both here, we have Dumbledore to thank for that. For people you don’t seem to think are your friends, Ron and Hermione sure went through a lot for you. They found Dumbledore and came back with him. He chased the Dementors away and the two helped carried you as Dumbledore got the rest of the staff to help with Remus and me.”

Harry’s stomach felt heavy. It didn’t sit right to have Dumbledore save him, but still, he couldn’t see any other way out of that situation. He frowned slightly and said softly, “You said you and Remus, but what happened to Pettigrew?”

“He’s gone,” Black said. “The Minister came in two hours after you were brought here. He had with him a dementor and of course, he immediately set the thing at me before we could say a word. Dumbledore stopped him yet again and after the briefest of explanation, the Minister had the Dementor Kiss Peter. He and Dumbledore are still in the office arguing over what to do with me.”

“I’m guessing the Minister doesn’t want you walking free?” Harry asked, frowning.

“No he does not,” Sirius drawled. “Wouldn’t look particularly kind on his record, now would it?”

“No, it won’t,” Harry said. He paused for a moment and did his best to sit up. Sirius moved to help him but Harry shook his head. His body was still singing with pain at every small movement, but he didn’t care. He wanted to sit and have a conversation with Sirius. “If he comes for you, I won’t let him,” Harry said. “You’re my godfather. I just got you back, and I refuse to let you go.”

“Harry,” Sirius sighed.

“I mean it—I’ll use everything I know!”

“Even the Dark Arts?” Sirius asked, sounding disapproving.

“Yes!” Harry said. “If it’s to protect my family, I’ll do anything.”

Sirius sighed. He looked down at his lap and fiddled with his hands. “Just like Regulus,” he muttered.

“Huh?”

Sirius looked up. “I’m not a Dark Wizard, Harry,” he said. “I never took the path, never celebrated the holidays either, in fact whenever my mother told me ‘Happy Yule’ I would turn around and scream ‘Happy Christmas’ back in her face. But my brother, my younger brother Regulus, he went down the same path you are now. And it led to his death.”

“How?” Harry asked softly. Dark Magic was a brilliant thing in Harry’s mind! Sure there were people who took advantage of it, the Dark Lord certainly did, but the magic had its beauty as well! Harry always felt warm when he was surrounded by Dark Magic, safe. To even think that it was dangerous was ludicrous in his eyes.

“My younger brother fell to the Dark Arts just like the rest of my family,” Sirius explaining, looking far away and tired as he remembered his lost brother. “He was the pride of my family. He did everything. He completed those stupid rituals, celebrated the holidays, and committed himself fully to the Dark. I wouldn’t say that our relationship was close or even estranged. … I hated them, the whole lot, but my brother had so much potential, but he wasted it away by going down through the Dark Arts. And though that, he found himself serving among the Death Eaters for Lord Voldemort.”

Harry gasped. He remembered long before the school year began and Tom’s words on the Blacks. Regulus Black was the one who served him. He must have died, somehow, but neither Harry nor Tom knew. Sirius was quiet as though the words pained him. Harry looked at the man hesitantly, “How did… how did he die?” Harry asked.

“Voldemort,” Sirius said. “How else? The stupid moron was seduced by Dark Magic, followed Voldemort and because of it, he died. He was way too young, only eighteen, and Voldemort killed him. I’m sure of it.”

“How do you know it was him?” Harry asked. He nervously picked at the blankets around him.

“He was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort’s orders, most likely. I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don’t just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It’s a lifetime of service or death,” Sirius said gravely. He gave a sigh and shook his head, “All of this is because of my family’s fixation on the Dark Arts. It only leads to ruin, Harry. Lily and James would never have wanted you to go down this path. If you continue down it, who knows what will happen to you. You might end up as insane as my cousin or find an early death like my brother.”

Harry was silent, contemplating Sirius’s words. He looked straight at Sirius and said, “I know that my parents do not approve of what I’m doing,” he said. “I’ve talked to them personally twice. On Samhain, I can talk to the dead and both times I called my parents. I wanted to talk to them again this year, but I couldn’t because of you causing the school to panic.” He didn’t want to accuse Sirius and did his best to keep his tone light and civil but still, Sirius flinched. “The first time, they did not even talk to me. I was devastated. My mentor brought me to their graves during the summer, and we both paid our respects before I was left alone to talk to them. It was comforting. I apologized for not being what they expected, but I told them that I loved them no matter what, and all I wanted was to hear their voices. When the next Samhain came, I didn’t expect much but I called them again, and the most amazing thing happened! They said my name! It’s a start. I know it is, and I know that we have a long way to go, but I’m grateful that Dark Magic even gave me the chance to hear their voices! I want to have a relationship with my parents. Life took that away from me, and I will fight tooth and nail to at least talk to them, even if it has to be once a year. I’m not saying that I won’t ever make mistakes, by the dark the last three years has been nothing but eventual mistake after eventual mistake, but I regret none of it.”

Sirius sat up taller, “Harry, that is crazy talk!” he said. “Please, James and Lily are dead. It’s unnatural to summon the dead Harry. How do you know that they won’t turn into something worse if you keep doing it?”

Harry frowned, “So I should never ask to speak to them again because of a chance something might happen? Besides if something were to happen I would have been told about it!”

“No I—look, Harry,” Sirius sighed. “Every single awful spell that only exists to harm comes from the Dark Arts. That is why they are labeled as such. Nothing good can come with messing them—look at what happened to my brother. I don’t want the same fate happening to you.”

“But I won’t!” Harry said stubbornly. “I know what I’m doing. I’m not saying that your brother didn’t know, but I at least know what I’m doing and what I want. The Dark Arts are where I feel belonged, Sirius. It has helped me make friends—find a family where I feel loved! Before my mentor, I was with my muggle relatives. They were awful, they treated me horribly day in and day out. Here, at least, I feel loved, safe.”

“Why can’t you feel that without the Dark Arts, Harry?” Sirius pleaded. “Please! Just consider what you’re saying.”

“I know what I’m saying,” Harry said. “I’m sorry, I know you’re my godfather, but this is who I am. I’m going to be a Dark Wizard, Sirius.”

“Even if it cost you your connection to the Light?” Sirius said, looking tired. “Do you know why it is that you passed out? No, that isn’t the right word. Harry, you almost died. The Patronus is already a difficult and advanced spell, but because of your damaged connection to the Light, you required more power to even summon a full-bodied Patronus. That power had to come from somewhere, and your magic used your life. If Dumbledore didn’t arrive when he did, you would have died Harry from the magical drain before you even got the chance to get Kissed.”

A shiver went down Harry. He swallowed heavily and opened his mouth a couple of times before licking his lips nervously. “W-Well,” he stuttered. “That doesn’t change my decision.”

“Does it? Think about it Harry—you can die simply by performing a spell,” Sirius said. “What magic is worth your death?”

“None,” Harry answered, “but I did what I did because I knew that it was the right thing to do.”

“Nothing is worth losing that connection Harry,” Sirius argued.

“Some things are,” Harry said. A small bubble of irritation started to grow inside the teen. He looked at his godfather and just felt annoyed. He was gone from his life for most of it, due to being framed, yes, but still who was he to decide if the life he was living was the correct one? He shook his head and tried to push those negativities out. He just got his godfather back. He should work on trying to stay somewhat civil with the man. “I’m sorry but there is nothing you can say or do that’ll change my mind.”

“Does Remus know?” Sirius asked.

“N-No, it didn’t come up with Professor Lupin,” Harry answered truthfully.

“I see,” Sirius muttered, looking disappointed at Harry. He opened his mouth to continue but just then the doors to the hospital wing opened. “YOU STUPID BOY!” came a very familiar voice.

Both turned to see Draco Malfoy running towards Harry. His face was red and his eyes extremely misty. “YOU STUPID, STUPID, STUPID BOY!” Draco yelled again. Sirius could only watch as the young Malfoy heir reached Harry’s bed and immediately pulled his godson into a fierce hug. “You’re so stupid!” Draco cried out, tears finally falling from his eyes. “What the hell were you even thinking?”

“Saving my family and righting a wrong,” Harry said bashfully as he returned the hug. Draco refused to let him go as he kept crying over how Harry was such a stupid boy. “You could have been killed, we told you not to mess with those dementors Harry!” Draco said. “Move over—I swear I’m not letting you get out of my sight even if your boyfriend shows up.”

Harry chuckled but moved to allow Draco the room to climb into the bed with him. Behind him, his other friends followed. “God Draco, you’re such a drama queen,” Pansy said, “and stop hogging Harry all to yourself! We deserve to hug the idiot too!”

“You think I’m an idiot too, Pansy?” Harry gasped, “I’m offended.”

“Only an idiot would try to take on an army of dementors, Potter,” Pansy shot back. She reached the bed and had to move to the other side to hug Harry properly. “You reek,” she whispered, “Didn’t you take a bath?”

“Considering I’ve been sleeping for sixteen hours? No,” Harry said, sticking out his tongue at his friend. He looked over at Sirius before his friends surrounded his bed. “I—”

Sirius shook his head. He gave Harry a small smile and stood up. “I better be going,” Sirius muttered. “I’ll be with Remus, but I’m not sure for how long. I’ll write to you, Harry.” Harry just nodded and watched as Sirius Black walked out of the hospital wing.

“That was him, wasn’t it?” Pansy whispered, “Sirius Black!”

“Yeah, that was my godfather,” Harry said. “Anyway, I’m sure my exploits have caused more rumors about me? Any good ones?”

“The biggest one is that you summoned a Grim and mowed down the dementors,” Blaise said.

Harry hummed and nodded, “Well, that’s kind of true,” he said. “We were surrounded by Dementors. It was the first time I did a full-body Patronus, and probably the last time. It was a giant dog like the one I can turn into, but summoning it hurts me so much.”

“Because it’s a hard spell?” Pansy asked.

“And because it is a Light spell,” Harry said. “My connection to the Light is weakening, to put it simply, and because of that light spells cause me pain.”

“Ohh,” Pansy said softly. “Was it… was it bad?”

“Pansy, I almost died,” Harry said seriously.

His friends were silent. They stared at each other awkwardly as Draco tightened his hold on him. Harry hugged him back. Blaise patted his shoulder and gave a small grin, “Well,” he said awkwardly, “It’s not like you’re a stranger to life-threatening situations, eh?”

Harry gave a dry chuckle, “You have that right,” he said. “Much as we hate it.”

“I swear Potter,” Draco grumbled, “Next year you better have a normal year, or I’ll hurt you.”

“Love you too, Draco,” Harry grinned. “But it’s not all bad, eh? I mean, The Minister saw Pettigrew, the real person who betrayed my parents, until he had the Dementor suck his soul out a second later.”

“What’s going to happen to Black?” Theo asked. Harry looked up to him and Daphne, both of whom were standing by the foot of his bed and holding hands.

“Dumbledore is arguing with the Minister about that,” Harry said. “I suppose the Minister isn’t happy that my godfather escaped—or that he would have to admit that the Ministry made a mistake in putting him in there.”

“That would be a shame if the country realizes that our own Ministry is useless,” Draco hummed. The others chuckled and Draco finally released Harry from his hug. They all soon fell into pleasant conversation about everything and anything until they were forced out by Madam Pomfrey.

Harry stayed the night in the hospital wing so that Madam Pomfrey could look over him, When Harry was released after breakfast the next morning, he immediately searched for Sirius only to see that he wasn’t in the castle. Worried, he went to Professor Lupin.

“You’re wondering where Sirius is, aren’t you?” Professor Lupin asked, smiling when he saw Harry walk into his office. “Don’t you fret, the Minister didn’t drag him back to Azkaban, although he wanted to.”

“What happened?” Harry asked. Professor Lupin sighed and it was only then that Harry saw that he was packing up a suitcase. “You’re leaving?”

“At the end of the year, yes,” Lupin said gravely, “Somebody needs to help my husband recuperate after spending twelve years in Azkaban, so why not his old broken werewolf?” He gave a chuckle and shook his head. “As for the Minister, well, as I’m sure you know, he was very set on sending Sirius back to Azkaban, but Dumbledore was able to convince him otherwise. He’s still angry, mind you, however, we do not need to worry about Dementors knocking on our doors at the moment.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, “That’s good,” he said. “Uhh, Professor, Sirius and I didn’t exactly leave things,” he began awkwardly before pausing.

Professor Lupin smiled, “Say no more Harry,” he said. “Sirius left a letter for you actually, one moment.” Lupin walked towards a small stack of papers and took one off the top. He turned to Harry and handed it to him, “He wished he could have stayed to tell you this himself,” he said.

Harry just nodded and looked at the letter, strangely finding a knot in his throat forming as he read.

Harry,

Sorry I had to leave like that, I didn’t want to interrupt you and your friends’ reunion. I have to say, I was not expecting to see a Malfoy of all people cry. Maybe there’s some humanity in that family somewhere… deep inside. I just want to say that I am not angry at you, and I certainly don’t hate you, but the stuff that you’re involved in is still very dangerous. I wasn’t there for my brother, but I want to be there for you if you’ll have me.

The Minister let me go, reluctantly, and I’m a free man. It’s strange but I honestly cannot believe it. After twelve years, I can go home. Not to my mother’s, god no, she’ll probably die of grief hearing that I’ve been free. Actually writing it down, it sounds like paying a visit to my mother might be a good idea… but anyway, I hope to see you over the summer both at our home and yours. And I expect to be introduced to both your guardian as well as this Tom boy you are interested in. I need to make sure that he’s good for you! I have twelve years of godfatherly duties to make up for, so I better get started.

And best of all, Remus was kind enough to give this idiot another chance, aren’t I lucky? We’ll be seeing a lot of each other Harry; I’ll make sure of that. And if you need anything, anything at all, don’t be afraid to write.

Sirius

Harry smiled. Sirius still wanted to be in his life. He didn’t hate the boy. A pressure Harry didn’t know he had eased off of his shoulders, and he looked up at Lupin, “Thank you,” he said softly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lupin said, “and sorry that I can’t be here next year to continue teaching you. It’s been invigorating.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Harry said, his tone switching to happier and light, “It’s actually becoming a bit of a habit for Hogwarts.”

Lupin chuckled and tipped his wand, “Then I’m glad to be part of a Hogwarts tradition,” he said. “Good luck on your exams, Harry, I expect only the highest score from you on mine.”

Harry nodded and said goodbye. It was strange, it felt like the end of the year. All Harry wanted was to be home, his new home, with Tom, but before that, he realized he had to face the last challenge of exams. With what felt like the big event of the school year over with, the rest of the school year seemed to fly by for Harry. June came and went, and exam week was soon before them.

It started with Transfiguration where the third years were given difficult challenges such as turning a teapot into a tortoise. Then after lunch, they had Charms where they had to perform Cheering Charms. Harry was somehow able to perfectly perform his while, right next to him, Longbottom and Weasley turned each other into a giggling mess. After dinner, the students returned to the dormitories to study for Care of Magical Creatures the next day, which was the easiest exam of all for all they had to do was watch a tub of flubberworms for an hour.

The strangest, and most fun exam, in Harry’s opinion, was the last exam with Professor Lupin. He had compiled the most unusual exam any of them had ever taken; a sort of obstacle course outside in the sun, where they had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a grindylow, cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish their way across a patch of marsh while ignoring misleading directions from a hinkypunk, then climb into an old trunk and battle with a new boggart.

“Excellent, Harry,” Lupin muttered as Harry climbed out of the trunk, grinning. “Full marks.”

Flushed with his success, Harry hung around to watch his friends go through the exam. They all did really well. The only real issue was when Daphne walked out of the trunk crying but still standing. She whispered something to Professor Lupin that the others couldn’t hear, and he nodded and said a tiny bit louder, “I’ll give you full marks for the boggart.” Daphne sighed, relieved, and joined the others, earning herself a kiss on the cheek from Theo.

With their exams all over, the third years only had to relax during the rest of the school year, enjoying the summer days and weather as they spent most of it outside. On the last day of the term, Harry decided to visit Professor Lupin to say his goodbyes, only to be surprised to see that Professor Dumbledore was also in the office.

“Harry, I’m happy to see that you’ve recovered well,” Professor Dumbledore said, smiling. “We all certainly had quite an eventual night a few weeks ago.”

“Y-Yeah,” Harry said, he looked around the office to see Professor Lupin finishing packing up. “Uh, what exactly are you doing here, sir? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I was just here wishing dear Remus luck on his next venture, as well as expressing our sorrow of his leaving,” Professor Dumbledore said.

“I’m sorry sir, but Sirius needs me,” Lupin said. He looked up at saw Harry, “Ah, Harry—sit down, I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

“Don’t worry,” Professor Dumbledore said. “I’ll provide. And you should sit down too, Remus.” He waved his wand and the teapot started to boil as three cups appeared. The teapot floated and filled the three cups as chairs moved towards the desk for them to sit down. Harry, not wanting to be rude to Lupin, sat down and took his cup. The two professors joined him and Dumbledore took his cup and took a long, silent sip before he turned to Harry. “Incidentally, I’ve been thinking of having a conversation with you, Harry, before we leave for summer break.”

“Me?” Harry asked. “What for?”

“Your living arrangements,” Dumbledore said gravely. “It has come to my attention that you no longer live with your aunt and uncle?”

Harry looked over a Lupin who gave him a guilty smile. “No, I do not,” Harry said slowly.

“Why is that?” Dumbledore asked. “Harry, it is a dangerous thing for you to be separated from your family.”

“They are not my family, sir,” Harry said. “They haven’t been since I was seven years old. They treated me horribly, sir, and when my guardian found me my life became so much better. And I’m sorry, sir, but can I ask how this is any of your business?”

“We want you to be safe, Harry, that is all,” Dumbledore said soothingly. “It was actually me, you know, who brought you to your family that dreadful night. Remus and I were actually talking about it, about signs that we have missed until it was too late. The point is that I feel responsible in making sure that you live in a safe environment, Harry.”

Then why is it that you never visited before? Harry wondered. Or that I never knew about my parents and magic until Tom told me?

He did not voice these questions, instead, he said, “I see, however I don’t see how it is your concern, sir. My guardian raised me since I was seven with his son.”

“Then, I would like to visit you over the summer, if that is not a problem,” Dumbledore said. “I am very curious to meet your guardian.”

“Ohh,” Harry said. He looked around the office, feeling a little nervous. Dumbledore wanted to visit his home. Dumbledore wanted to meet Tom—his Tom. What would they do? What if he recognizes him—no. No, they can do this. They’ll just need a little time. He would tell Tom the moment he sees him, and they’ll have time to prepare. With the plan in mind, Harry looked at Dumbledore, never meeting his eyes, and nodded, “Of course, Professor,” he said. “However we actually just moved so it might be a while until our home is suitable for guests.”

“Not to worry, I understand,” Dumbledore said. “If you do not mind, I would like to visit your family soon. Where is your new home, so that I may letter you?”

“We live in a small manor now outside of Little Hangleton,” Harry said. Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose in shock that he quickly hid.

“Is that so?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “We actually got it during the last summer, but it needed so many repairs.” Dumbledore nodded in understanding and smiled at the child. Harry didn’t like how the old man was smiling at him like he was smiling down at Harry. “But now it’s fixed now so I can invite my friends over,” he finished.

“That is very good,” Dumbledore said, still sounding like he is talking down to him, “It is always good to be around friends.” He finished his tea and turned to Professor Lupin, “The staff will have a final toast to you after the ending feast, Remus.”

“I will be there,” Professor Lupin promised. “Have a good summer, Headmaster.”

“You too as well, Remus, and congratulations on all you’ve earned this year,” Professor Dumbledore said. He nodded to Harry and left.

Harry took a small sip of his tea and licked his lips awkwardly. He has forgotten about why he came to Lupin’s office. “Harry,” Lupin said, getting his attention. “Before we leave, there was something that I wanted to speak to you about that I didn’t have the time before.”

“What is it, Professor?” Harry asked.

Lupin chuckled, “The term is over Harry, I’m no longer your professor,” he said, “and this is from my concern for you as your godfather.” He took a breath, looking suddenly tired and worried. “Sirius told me everything, Harry,” he said. Harry opened his mouth, but he held his hand up, “Please, let me finish.” Harry closed his mouth and nodded. “I won’t even pretend to know all about the nuances that this path of yours involve. Sirius stressed that you are not a bad person immediately by going down it, and I know and understand that. I’ve taught you for an entire year Harry, I think I would have a pretty good idea if you’re an evil wizard.” Lupin allowed himself a soft chuckle before clearing his throat. “From what Sirius told me, it is not about power but for a place to belong. I’m sorry that you do not feel like you belong with the Light, however I can sympathize and empathize with your feelings, Harry. The world does not look kindly on werewolves, we’re all seen as dark and dangerous creatures. I’ve been personally judged and harassed due to my condition and denied essential service. This job is actually the first stability I had in my life in the last twelve years, sadly enough. I don’t know how people will react when they learn about the life you live, if they find out at all, however I want you to know that I will always support you, no matter what. As will Sirius, I’m sure. Just give us both time to get used to the idea.”

“Thank you,” Harry said softly. His eyes felt wet and he wiped away a tear. “Sir—uhh, Remus, is it okay if I hug you?”

“Students aren’t supposed to hug their professors,” Remus began to say.

“Then it’s a good thing the term is over, isn’t it?” Harry asked, risking a cocky smile.

“Very good indeed,” Remus chuckled. The two stood up and Remus opened his arms. Harry stepped closer and the two embraced each other. It surprisingly didn’t feel awkward. Much like when he used Dark Magic, Harry felt like he was coming home. They lingered, not wanting to let go of the other, until almost five minutes has past and the grindylow bumped against its tank. As they separated, Remus’s hand moved to Harry’s shoulder, and he squeezed it as they smiled at each other silently. Words failed them so, with a silent promise to see each other during the summer, Remus let Harry slipped away and walk out of his office.

Chapter Text

Chapter 43

Summertime Visitors

Harry told Tom everything the moment they were together again on Platform nine and three quarters. Tom swept Harry in a long, needing kiss the second they were in each other’s arms, and he moved the boy away from the crowd so they could speak in private. When Harry was done, Tom had a thoughtful frown on his face. He looked down at Harry and said, “We’ll talk more about this at home.”

Harry just nodded and allowed Tom to pull him closer. He held onto him and the next second he felt the familiar feelings of Apparation. He felt like he was being pushed through a tight tube, pushed flushed against Tom. The train station disappeared around them, replaced by the next second by a small manor sitting on a hill.

It was a beautiful home, three stories made of old brick with many windows that allowed the sunlight in. The grounds had a garden of a variety of flowers and magical plants that Harry recognized from Hogwarts’ greenhouse. Tom held him close as they walked up the path towards their new home. Both were silent as Tom opened the door and led Harry inside.

They entered a foyer with two curving staircases against the far wall that led to the second floor. Between the two staircases were a set of open double doors with a hallway. Three house-elves were waiting, and all bowed deeply, their noses touching the floor, at the sight of them. “Welcome home Master,” they all said in their squeaky voices.

“We have house-elves now?” Harry asked.

“Of course, all proper wizarding families do,” Tom chuckled. “They are Zanpy, Wakey, and Nooky. They will tend to the house, as well as do whatever tasks you give them.”

“Oh,” Harry said. He really wasn’t sure how to feel about this. “Do they know?”

“About my true identity? Why should I bother? They’re tied to the house now, they can only leave if we free them,” Tom explained. “But come, my love, we can talk about Dumbledore’s visit somewhere more relaxing.”

He dismissed the house-elves with a wave of his hand, and they disappeared with the sound of a bull whip’s crack, taking Harry’s luggage with them. Then he took Harry’s hand and pulled him further into their new home. They went through the double doors between the stairs and Harry looked around at the blank walls. They felt bare, almost lifeless, in Harry’s mind and he quickly wanted to bring it to life with pictures of himself and Tom. They entered a living room with a large sectional couch as well as a couple of armchairs and a fireplace. There was a small table in front of the sectional, as well as end tables by the armchairs, and the walls had bookcases as well as a large old map. In the corner, an old record player sat, and with a wave of Tom’s wand, soft jazz filled the room. “I am happy that you have succeeded in saving your godfather, Harry, however, I wish you used a less life-risking method. Promise me to never cast a Patronus ever again.”

“I promise,” Harry said, and sealed it with a kiss. Tom smirked at that and brought the teen with him to the sectional where he practically had Harry on his lap.

“Now, how to deal with Dumbledore?” Tom hummed. “You said that he will visit soon, correct?”

“Yeah, but he’ll send a letter beforehand,” Harry nodded.

“Knowing the old man he will send the letter the day of,” Tom muttered. “No matter, we still have time. He wants to meet me after all, but does he want to meet me as your mentor, your boyfriend, or as your master, my love?” He chuckled.

“Mentor,” Harry said, his cheeks blushing slightly. “What will we do, Tom?”

“You simply have to love and believe in your master, my sweet little snake,” Tom said. He thought for a moment and smirked, “I believe another glamour is due then. One more humanly than the last. In order to look a proper father for you.”

He chuckled and took out his wand, twirling it in his fingertips. “This one will be easier than the last,” he said. “In fact, we can deal with it right now.” Tom stood up and turned to Harry, wand in hand. “I hope that you did not reveal our last name?”

“I didn’t,” Harry said.

“Good,” Tom hummed. He waved his wand and a full-length mirror appeared in front of him. He stared at his reflection for a moment, smirking at it. “It would be a waste if my beauty were to go away,” he said. ‘I’m not usually vain, however, we can keep that easily enough.” He focused on himself and muttered under his breath as he waved his wand around. Tom’s limbs extended, growing a couple of inches. Then he pointed at his hair and let it grow, streaks of grey filtering in naturally. Stubble appeared along his jawline, and Harry couldn’t help but swallow at the effect it had on his body. Tom started to fill out slightly, looking older but sturdier. He turned to Harry and, as a last touch, flicked his wand for glasses to appear. He placed the glasses on gingerly and looked down at Harry, “So,” he said, his voice sounding older, “what do you think of your Mentor?”

Harry blushed deeply. He stood up and reached for Tom’s hand. The older man took it and pulled Harry to him, chuckling at the effect he had on the teen. “I think I would kiss you like this,” Harry breathed.

“So naughty! What would your Tom think if you kissed his father?” Tom laughed. Harry blushed and buried his face in Tom’s chest. Tom rubbed his head soothingly and smiled, “No need to be embarrassed love,” he said. “Besides I won’t need to use this for more things, just for Dumbledore, or when your godparents wish to speak to your mentor.”

He examined himself once more and, happy with his appearance, waved his wand once more, reversing his glamour. Harry smiled and kissed Tom, “So what are we going to do now?” he asked.

“I’ll show you around the house, but then I’m afraid I have to get back to work,” Tom said. “Come along my little snake.”

They spent the next hour exploring the house. Tom showed Harry their bedrooms first, two rooms on the second floor right next to each other, promising Harry that they could share a bed whenever they wanted. He showed Harry the drawing-room as well as multiple other rooms for guests in case they had them. The kitchens, where the house elves were busy making their lunch. Harry couldn’t help but frown at that, already thinking of ways where he could get them away so he could cook food for Tom instead. In the basement, there was a locked wooden door that Tom forbade Harry from, simply telling him “You can go in there when you are older, but not right now my prince.” On the opposite side of the door was another door that led to an expansive potions room with cauldrons already situated on empty fires as well as cabinets filled with more potions ingredients than Harry can name!

Their last destination was Tom’s office. It was large with a view of the gardens underneath. The walls seemed to be made out of bookshelves except for one part where a liquor cabinet and mirror sat. “My office,” Tom said, smiling softly. “Here is where I’ll be spending most of my time, There are a lot of things we need to plan for, Harry, as well as research into.” He pointed around towards the bookcases, “My personal collection,” he said pridefully. “As well as a few interesting items from Durmstrang’s library.”

Harry looked around, amazed at the collection. He couldn’t help but wonder how many of these books Tom has gotten with Adrian. They all looked old yet taken care of. Were they small dates? Did they go out together to purchase these books? He suddenly felt jealous.

“Tom? Why don’t we go explore the town,” he suggested.

“Why? There’s nothing but muggles,” Tom sneered. “Besides, I have work here I need to start on.”

Harry frowned at that, “You mean you’re just going to stay here?” he asked.

“Until lunch yes,” Tom said. “I need to see what I have as well as go over my plans, scrapping the ones that seem too ludicrous as well as looking into how to most effectively use my prince.”

Harry only felt somewhat reassured by that. “Okay,” he said, “Then you can come with me later, I guess.”

Tom hummed and turned to a bookcase. He pulled a couple of books out and paused, “Harry, what would you do with muggles?”

Harry answered immediately, “Nothing. The main problem is with the Light. Once we deal with them, we can figure out what to do with the muggleborns.”

Tom hummed and nodded briefly. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry my prince, but there is important work for me to do.”

Then he took the books to the desk and sat down. Harry felt awkward and stood there for a moment or two before leaving. He navigated the hallways until he found a set of stairs that led to upstairs and spent the rest of the day packing away his trunk.

Harry took to exploring the town of Little Hangleton himself. He didn’t want to be fully separated from his new home, nor want any weird rumors about him and Tom to come out. So thought to explore the small town. It was very different than Surrey, farther away from London than the other town, but still, it looked familiar enough in Harry’s mind. It was large enough to be mostly inconspicuous as he walked the streets, however, he did feel stares whenever he was walking down or up the hill to Riddle House.

As they expected, a letter from Dumbledore arrived soon, informing both Harry and Tom that he would be visiting at the end of the week during the morning. Shockingly enough, the next day Harry received another letter from the Voice of the Dark expressing similar wishes for the afternoon. “Both Dumbledore and the Voice,” Tom muttered, “We’ll have a busy day my love,” he said before kissing Harry and retreating to his study. That happened a lot during those days. Harry only saw Tom at meals, and though they kissed whenever they saw each other, Harry couldn’t help but feel like they were still separated. At least at Hogwarts, he had his friends, classes, and whatever yearly deathly toll he had to face to distract him. But here, at his home? All he had was Little Hangleton. So for the week, he explored the town, barely talking to anyone but always offered to help whenever he could. It felt nice being in the sun and exploring his new home, however, Harry still felt alone, even when he was eating with Tom. However, hopefully, Tom’s work would end soon and they would be able to do stuff together once more.

Friday came too quickly, and during breakfast, a letter arrived from Dumbledore informing them that he will be there at ten. “Looks like I’ll have no work done,” Tom said, sounding disheartening about the fact. They finished breakfast in silence and Tom left to his room to change into his father persona.

Tom came down a moment later, wearing a proper set of wizard robes that fitted him perfectly. He stroked his stubble and smirked at Harry, winking at him as the two sat down in a living room to wait for their guest.

When ten came, a house-elf appeared in the room to announce Dumbledore. “Send him in,” Tom said, his voice now sounding deeper as a man in his forties. They waited two more minutes and the door opened, Albus Dumbledore walking in. “Hello,” he smiled, “I have to say you have a lovely home, Mr.…”

Tom stood up and offered his hand to Dumbledore, “Adler,” he said. “Thomas Adler.”

“Mr. Adler,” Dumbledore nodded. He took Tom’s hand and shook it, although Harry could see distrust in his eyes. “I thank you for accommodating me so quickly, I understand that you are still in the middle of unpacking?”

“Yes, we have just moved in at the beginning of summer,” Tom said.

“And there are three of you, correct? Yourself, Harry, and your son?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes, however, my son is still around Durmstrang. He has decided to spend two weeks with his friend, instead of coming home,” Tom said easily.

“Yes, well, that is one thing I would like to speak about, if I may,” Dumbledore said. “As you may know, I am Harry’s Headmaster. But also, I must admit that I had a hand in helping Harry reunite with his family after that horrible tragedy when he was one.”

“Yes, I am very familiar with what happened,” Tom said, frowning slightly. “I feel so much for Harry’s parents, however, I hope that they are happy to know that I am giving them a safe and loving environment for Harry.”

“That is a problem, I am afraid,” Dumbledore said. “Harry here is targeted by Voldemort. He is protected at Hogwarts, naturally, however, during the summer he must return home, to his family, in order for the protection from his mother’s sacrifice to continue. He needs to be with his blood family, his aunt and uncle. It is for his own good.”

“I do not believe that is correct at all, Mr. Dumbledore,” Tom frowned. “Tell me, do you know how Harry’s life with the Dursleys was like? Or perhaps how he even came to under my custody?”

Dumbledore was silent. Tom escorted the man to sit down, and a house-elf appeared with tea. “Sugar? Milk?” Tom offered politely. Dumbledore thanked him and Tom talked as he prepared his tea. “I met Harry when he was only seven years old,” Tom explained. “He was such a sweet boy, oblivious to everything that holds in our world. It was honestly complete happenstance. I was out with my son when he pointed Harry out. He was alone in a field by the school, obviously hiding from the other children. He looked so frail, so gaunt, that my son just had to go and see if he was alright. My son Tom is such a kind boy, isn’t he Harry?”

“Yeah, he is,” Harry nodded.

“Tom and Harry talked, and we offered him lunch,” Tom continued. The two kept connecting, and one day Tom convinced Harry to tell me all of the things those relatives of his were doing to him.” He sighed and took a sip of his own tea. “They beat the boy. Hands, frying pan, whatever is near them. I saw the boy with welts, horrible cuts, and bruises—things that muggle medicine would take time to heal. I could feel the magic inside him, so I decided to use magic to heal him. It was then that I told him the truth of our world, and he begged to be taken away from his muggle relatives.” He looked at Harry sadly who just looked down at his lap.

“You just took him!” Dumbledore exclaimed angrily.

“No, I did not,” Tom said. “I’ve talked with his relatives, saw the truth for myself, and gotten all the paperwork needed in order. Harry was legally mine in every way, and we left the Dursleys forever. Still, he needed schooling so I decided to keep him in his old school where he told me he had a friend. Then, when he turned eleven, he went to Hogwarts while my son Tom went to Durmstrang.”

“Why is that?” Dumbledore asked. “Why did you send Harry to my school while your other son went to Durmstrang?” He looked trouble as he drank his tea.

“Durmstrang is my family’s school,” Tom said. He crossed his leg easily and took a small sip of his tea. “I decided that it would be best for Harry to go to school where his parents went. To give him at least that small connection to Lily and James Potter.”

“I see,” Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully. “There is another matter, I am afraid before we turn back to this issue. When his parents have died, I was given the role of financial advisor over the Potter’s vault due to our closeness. However, my access to such vaults has been declined for the last three years.”

“Ah, yes funny story actually,” Tom chuckled. “It was Harry’s decision.” He looked down at Harry, “Harry, would you mind telling your headmaster what happened on your first visit to Gringotts?”

“Okay,” Harry said. He paused for a moment and remembered. “The goblins didn’t believe that I was me so they had me do a sort of identity check. Afterward, they told me that they had you as my financial advisor however at the time I did not know you, so I asked them to stop.”

“And where were you during all of this?” Professor Dumbledore demanded.

“Just outside—Harry insisted on doing it all on his own,” Tom chuckled.

Dumbledore frowned, “I see, that is unfortunate,” he muttered. “Then Harry, can I ask to be reinstated in my role?”

Harry looked up at Tom nervously, who thankfully answered. “My consul is more than enough for Harry’s monetary needs. We thank you, however, for your services while Harry was living with the Dursleys.” He took a long sip from his tea, smirking behind his cup.

Dumbledore said nothing but he looked openly disappointed. “I would advise against this considering Lily and James’ wishes; however I will concede. That said, I still believe that Harry belongs with his family in Surrey, not here in Little Hangleton.”

Tom stood up to his full height. He looked down at Dumbledore who remained sitting. “Headmaster, I will say this clearly. I am Harry’s family. This is his home. I will not allow anyone to threaten him or this home, am I understood? As far as I know, you are just Harry’s headmaster. You may have a close relationship with his parents, however, that does not equate to you having control over Harry’s life. The only considerations I will even take are from his godparents whom I have not met yet but looking forward to. Now, unless you have anything concern about Harry’s grades, I believe we’ve come to an end at your complaints.”

Dumbledore finished his tea. He stood up and looked straight at Tom. Tom’s expression kept calm as he stared back at Dumbledore. Then, finally, Dumbledore asked, “Why have you picked this house for your family?”

Tom smiled as he looked around the room. “It is a beautiful house, no? But it was in such disarray, it broke my heart. I am a lover of old homes, I always wanted to call one my home. I brought it last year and had the year repairing it until it was suitable to bring my sons here.”

Dumbledore nodded, “I see,” he muttered. “Well, then I have to say it was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Adler. It is a shame I could not meet your son.”

“The pleasure is mine, Professor Dumbledore,” Tom said. He offered the man his hand and he shook it. Tom held his hand out to Harry and indicated him to stand up. Harry did so, shook Dumbledore’s hand, and the two escorted Dumbledore to the door. They watched the man walk down the path over the property line and apparated away.

Harry gave a huge sigh and smiled up at Tom, “That didn’t go too bad, eh Dad?” he grinned.

“No, it did not,” Tom said, “I believe we fooled the old fool.” He bent down and kissed Harry deeply. The hot feeling in Harry grew and he held onto Tom.

“Now for the Voice,” he whispered.

“Now for the Voice,” Tom nodded. He took Harry’s hand. They decide to return to the living room for lunch. Tom opened the door for Harry, and both stopped as they stepped right inside.

Sitting on an armchair with a tray of small fruits floating in front of him was the Voice of the Dark. He still wore the crimson robe that covered his face, however, when he looked up, Harry could see an impish smile on the man’s shadowed face. “I hope I am not interrupting anything; something came up and I wanted to come by earlier, however, you already had a guest,” he said. “Please, sit down, and if you would be so kind as to get rid of your glamour, please?” he chuckled at the look on Tom’s face. “You made that with Dark Magic, no?”

“Yes, I did,” Tom said defensively. “I do not like people coming into my home unannounced.”

“But I was announced, I sent a letter,” the Voice said. “Now please, your glamour?”

A hard look fell on Tom’s face. He took out his wand and with a flick dispelled the glamour. The Voice seemed to stare at Tom for a moment, his impish smirk gone, for a muted line. However, his smile returned, and the tray of fruits floated towards them. “Would either of you like to have fruit? As a peace offering for my… untold arrival.”

Tom eyed the tray cautiously. He ignored it as he walked back to his seat, pulling Harry next to him. “It’s rare for the Voice of the Dark to visit those under his care,” he stated.

The Voice chuckled, “You are correct, normally I’m only to appear when needed or during official ceremonies like Yule. However, I must admit I took a special interest in Harry, and I was curious to see if my book has been useful to you.” He turned to Harry.

Harry blinked, “Oh, um it did actually,” he said. “During Ostara I performed the ritual to give me two Animagus forms.”

“Excellent, yes I know that ritual well,” The Voice smiled. “I hope that watching Dark Magic help you with the ritual was inspirational to you. Was there a storm or just a simple cloud overhead?”

“A storm,” Harry answered. “A huge storm concentrated over us.”

The Voice chuckled, “That shows, Harry, just how close you are to the Dark Arts. You were born for it; it seems you both are.” He lifted his hand and the tray floated towards him. He took a slice of apple and pointed it between Tom and Harry. “I can sense it, both of your cores. They are filled with so much darkness, it is beautiful. And so similar as well… as if you both were in perfect sync with each other, one an extension of the other, but I cannot tell who is the person and who is the extension.”

Harry didn’t know how to feel about that. He shifted uncomfortably as the Voice ate. Tom cleared his throat and asked, “Was this the purpose of your visit? To simply check up on my Harry?”

The Voice didn’t answer right away. He looked up directly at them, his face still shrouded in shadows. “Mayhap,” he whispered. “But there was something more.” He looked at Harry and gave a soft smile, “If it would not be too much, would you show me your forms?”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry said. He stood up and imagine himself standing on all fours. The next second, he was a large black dog looking up at Tom and the Voice. He jumped on the sofa and rested his head on Tom’s lap. Tom immediately started petting him. “So soft,” Tom hummed. “This was what your Patronus turned out to be, Harry?”

Harry looked up at Tom and nodded.

“Patronus?” The Voice asked, “What do you mean?”

Harry shifted, sitting on Tom’s lap comfortably. “When I was at Hogwarts there were dementors. They kept affecting me more than others so my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who is also my godfather, taught me the Patronus Charm.”

“That is dangerous,” The Voice warned. “As you walk further down the path your connection to the Light will weaken. You will need extraordinary power to perform even a simple Light Spell, and that power will come from your life.”

“I know,” Harry said grimly. “The only time I did a full-bodied Patronus, it almost killed me.”

“Then don’t use that spell ever again,” The Voice said. “You are too powerful in the Dark Arts to die of a simple, stupid mistake.”

Harry flinched at that but nodded. “I already promised Tom that.”

“Good. Now, your wolf is your true form, but what is Dark Magic’s gift?” The Voice asked.

Harry looked again at Tom then back at the Voice. “An owl,” he answered. “An owl with black feathers.” And without any prompt, he turned into it, sitting on Tom’s lap hooting softly. He flew off and around the room a couple of times before going back on the couch and shifting once more. The Voice clapped softly.

“Excellent Harry, excellent!” he praised. “As I thought, you took to the Dark Arts beautifully. Keep learning from that book and if wanted, I am more than happy to provide other spells and little tricks that you can do.”

Harry perked up at that. “Actually, that would be nice, thank you,” he said. “I only did the one ritual, but I want to do more.”

“Then I will prepare a list of spells for you,” The Voice said. He stood up and offered his hand to Harry, “It was a pleasure to see you again Harry, expect a letter from me soon.” Harry shook it smiling. The Voice turned to Tom and offered his hand, he paused and said awkwardly, “Forgive me, but I do not think I ever got your name.”

“Tom,” Tom said. He took The Voice’s hand. The Voice seemed to falter and shook it.

“Tom,” he repeated. “I will remember that.” Tom let go of his hand and the Voice looked between the two. He nodded a final goodbye and left, seemingly disappearing in the shadows.

Finally alone, Tom pulled Harry back to his lap and summoned a house-elf. “We’ll eat lunch in here,” he told it. The House-elf disappeared, and Tom sighed, “I am tired of visitors today,” he grumbled. “My prince, please promise me that there will be no more visitors today.”

Harry laughed softly and burrowed himself deeper in Tom’s lap. “There’s no one to bother us,” he whispered. “We have the rest of the day to ourselves.”

“Good,” Tom grinned. He wrapped his arms around Harry and the younger boy hummed contently. Lunch arrived and Tom fed them both slowly. Harry felt very content being in Tom’s arms. He wanted the rest of the day to be like this, the two spending the day lazily in each other’s arms. However, after an hour, Tom kissed Harry deeply and slid him off his lap. “There’s work to do,” he muttered and left Harry.

Chapter Text

Chapter 44

Tensions Arise

Harry was getting a reputation in Little Hangleton. He was quickly becoming that strange, nice boy from the house on the hill. Tom never accompanied him and the older residents of Little Hangleton questioned Harry on who he lived with or if he knew what happened in that manor years ago. “Bit of bad luck that place is dearie,” one woman said after Harry helped her with her groceries, his reward being a muggle pound. “Years ago something happened up there, something not very nice, and it ended with the owners dead.” Harry just nodded and thanked her for telling him, telling her that she had nothing to worry about, and went on his day.

As Harry explored, Tom continued to lock himself in his office. He was working, always working. On his plans, his schemes, on things that he refused to share with Harry. All the older man would say is that he was busy with planning and lock himself in the office with Salazar. Harry tried to get the snake to tell him what Tom was doing, but the pet would just chuckle and went on about how much better Tom treated him. So, he was left with nothing but mutters of work and just looking forward to meals when they can be together again, or late at night when Tom cuddles up to Harry and kisses him softly.

Harry felt alone through it all and was more than happy to invite his friends to fill these halls, if only temporarily. Draco, Blaise, and Pansy visited for the first time a week after Dumbledore and the Voice came to his home. Harry was excited and told Tom that morning, “I can’t wait for you to meet them officially! They’re just amazing! Blaise is my best friend and Draco and I just tell each other everything and Pansy—well, she’s very good at fashion and is determined to help decorate my room!”

“Even though you’re in my bed every night, love?” Tom chuckled.

“Yeah,” Harry said, his cheeks blushing. “Please tell me that you don’t have to work today. Please! My friends would love to meet you.”

Tom gave Harry a soft smile and pet his hair, “I’m sure I can find some time, my little prince,” he purred. “But not the whole day.”

“Oh,” Harry said, but he smiled through his disappointment. He thought that Tom would leave as usual as soon as breakfast was over, but he stayed surprisingly and waited with Harry on his lap. They stayed that way, Harry telling Tom about the village as the older boy played with his hair and rubbed circles all over his body.

House-elves appeared and bowed deeply, “Visitors for Master Harry are here,” Zanpy said, at least Harry hoped it was Zanpy. He was doing his best to learn their names.

“Send them in,” Tom ordered. Harry started to move off of Tom’s lap but he just tightened his hold. “Where do you think you’re going, little snake?” Tom hissed in his ear.

Harry groaned as he started to get erect. “My friends are coming Master.”

“And they will see you where you belong, on your boyfriend’s lap like a good boy,” Tom replied. “You want to be a good boy, don’t you, my little snake?” He nipped at Harry’s ear as the teen groaned, nodding furiously. Tom chuckled and his hands laid splayed out on his chest and stomach as he continued to nibble at Harry’s ear and neck. Harry just gasped and groaned, his face red as Tom continued his assault.

Harry didn’t notice the door opening or his friends walking in. Tom did, however, and sucked Harry’s neck roughly before looking up at them, humming, “Hello… welcome to our humble home, I assume no introductions are in order?”

Harry’s friends’ faces were all blushing deeply. Draco looked down immediately, Pansy just covered her mouth and Blaise just stood awkwardly, not meeting Harry’s face as he looked up, embarrassed.

Finally, Pansy whispered, “The Dark Lord.”

Tom’s smile widened. “Very good, and from my guess, you must be Pansy Parkinson, am I correct? My sweet Harry has told me all about you—and all of his friends. Your family was faithful during the war—as was yours, Malfoy, I hope that their faithfulness will continue moving forward?”

“Y-Yes, my Lord,” Pansy stuttered, looking absolutely terrified. Tom smirked and gently moved a finger across Harry’s chest, his nail digging over Harry’s nipples, causing him to gasp. Tom’s eyes shifted towards Draco who nodded as well. Then he looked upon Blaise who finally looked up and met his eye.

“You are Blaise,” Tom stated instead of questioned. “I remember you—you’re my little snake’s best friend.”

“I am,” Blaise answered confidently.

“Good,” Tom said. “Thank you for taking care of my little snake. Continue to do so, and for his sake, make sure he doesn’t get into anything… stupid during this year at Hogwarts?”

“Of course,” Blaise said, and Harry’s face reddened even more. I don’t need my friends to babysit me! And stop scaring them, he thought. Tom chuckled and smirked as he traced a finger around Harry’s chest.

“Good, I take good care of my boy,” Tom continued, “I would hate if anything were to happen.”

“Of course not, sir,” Blaise said, and Tom finally smiled. His hand moved to the front of Harry’s neck and Harry turned so they could kiss properly.

“Good, and while it is nice meeting you all, I have work that needs to be done,” Tom said. He slid Harry off of his lap and stood up to his full height, being taller even than Blaise. “I trust that you all will keep this secret? I am not yet prepared to … entertain your parents.” He chuckled and a cold breeze seemed to fill the room. Tom kissed Harry one last time and left, standing tall and threatening.

The four friends stood in their spots frozen for a moment until they were certain that Tom wouldn’t overhear them. “He’s back,” Pansy whispered. “He’s actually back.’

“Yeah, I told you,” Harry said.

“I know but it’s one thing hearing about him but another seeing,” Pansy muttered. She looked around hesitantly. “Is there a place where we can have privacy?”

“We have the house but yeah, we can go to my room,” Harry nodded. He led them away from the kitchen and up a side staircase to the second floor that brought them immediately to his and Tom’s hallway. Harry had to mentally remind himself to go into his room instead of Tom’s and turned right instead of left into it.

The first thing Harry’s friends noticed was the pictures. Harry’s walls were adorned with pictures of himself with his friends in between emerald and silver banners as well as the banner for Harry’s favorite Quidditch Team. His Nimbus 2001 was in the corner and folded neatly on a long dresser was his family’s Invisibility Cloak. Blaise immediately sat on Harry’s bed with Draco as Harry waved his wand and the two chairs and small table in a corner floated towards them. Pansy looked around slowly and nodded, “I see you at least know how to decorate,” she said. “Now—clothes!”

Blaise groaned, “Honestly Pansy we are not here to discuss Harry’s wardrobe,” he said.

“He promised!” Pansy said, smiling an evil glint in her eyes. “And I want you guys to try something I actually designed.”

“Since when do you make clothes?” Draco asked.

“Since I told you to shut up,” Pansy said, opening Harry’s standing wardrobe. “Gross! Why so much black?”

Harry’s cheeks turned crimson, “We like black,” he muttered. Pansy froze for a second and turned to Harry. “Are these… his clothes too?”

“What—no! No all of his clothes are in his room!” Harry said quickly.

“Good, then he won’t mind if I do this,” she said and one by one she went through Harry’s clothes. Most were robes that looked the same, which she dropped unceremoniously on the floor. “Black, black, black, oh thank god some color!" She pulled out an emerald robe and smiled, “There’s hope for you yet Harry. Now, I’m thinking blues, maybe a pink shirt or two—but before that, I want to show you all what I’ve made.”

She reached into her robes and pulled out a small suitcase that filled to its proper size. She placed it on the table and smiled as she opened it. “I made these myself,” she said and pulled out her creation.

Blaise laughed as Draco sputtered as they stared at the fabric. “Parkinson! You can’t be serious!” he yelled. “I’m not going to wear that!”

“Why not?” Pansy demanded. She was holding up a light blue skirt that looked to fall below Harry’s knees. “This would look very nice on you Draco! And look—I have other colors! And you have no idea how long it took to make these.”

She pulled out color after color, laying them carefully on the bed. “I think purple would look good on you, Harry,” she said.

“We are not wearing this!” Draco yelled.

“Why not?” Blaise grinned. “Come on Dray!” He leaned forward and whispered, “I like my boys in skirts personally.”

Draco’s eyes widened and he looked towards Pansy who seemed to be oblivious to what was just said. “I’ll take the blue,” he muttered. Pansy looked up at that and grinned, “Excellent. Harry, you want the purple?”

“Yeah, I’ll try it,” Harry nodded. Pansy gave it to Harry and then looked at Blaise who grinned at her.

“What about me Pansy?” he asked, winking.

She looked at him critically then back at her suitcase. He was wearing a dark blue shirt with comfortable jeans that looked a little too muggleish, but he made it look effortlessly cool. “I have a dark blue to match your shirt and you’ll match Draco,” she said and handed the boys their skirts. She stood expectantly at them. Nobody moved, “Well?” she demanded.

“Pans, we’re not going to change in front of you, get out!” Draco snapped. Pansy huffed and turned around, muttering to herself. When she left Draco took his and moved to a corner, his face completely red. Harry took his and examined it. “I can’t believe she made this,” he said. It was clearly homemade, not it looked sturdy enough for what Harry guessed was Pansy’s first try. “Are there spells to help with this?”

“Loads. I didn’t know Pansy was practicing them though, but I suppose it makes sense, girl’s obsessed with fashion,” Blaise chuckled. He pulled his pants off easily and both Harry and Draco spun around quickly to avoid staring. Please don’t let Tom hear about this, Harry thought as he took his own pants off. Harry examined the skirt as he tried to find where exactly he was supposed to put it on. It looked simple enough, being a slip-on, so he carefully stepped in and pulled it to his waist. As he thought, the skirt ended just under his kneecaps but it was a bit lopsided even though it was straight on his waist.

“I feel an odd breeze,” he commented and turned around, the skirt twirling with him.

“Feels good though,” Blaise grinned as he posed to Harry, “What you think? Am I a Casanova in this?” He looked amazing and Harry frowned.

“I hate that you pull it off,” he muttered.

Pansy entered without knocking and looked at the three of them. “You guys actually did it!” she grinned, “Oh god Daphne’s going to die laughing when I tell her! Now shut up and don’t move, I need to see how I did.”

“I hate you,” Draco muttered darkly as he moved to join the others. Harry’s cheeks tinted at how cute Draco looked, pouting as he stood in his skirt, leaning on one leg. Blaise stared at him dumbstruck for a moment before his cheeky grin returned. Harry couldn’t help but wonder when they would get together as Pansy moved to him.

“Lopsided,” she muttered. “Potter—you have that thing on straight?” She grabbed his skirt and adjusted it. “Yeah—damn it, I knew I used too much fabric on this side. This is what I get for making skirts for boys to try on.”

“Why even use us why not Daphne?” Draco demanded.

“She said no and suggested you three, and we all thought it would be a funny sight. Now please shut up,” Pansy said. She took out a pair of pins from her robes’ pockets as well as scissors and started to hem the skirt until everything was even and smooth. Satisfied with her work, she moved to the next, ignoring Draco’s pouting as she worked. “You know Draco, you have very nice legs,” she commented. “Harry does too—do you even have hair?”

“Of course I do!” Draco snapped.

“I tell him every day he has good legs,” Blaise chuckled. “But Dray doesn’t believe me at times, do you? They’re good for running.”

“Malfoys don’t run,” Draco stated, crossing his arms.

“Shame, Zabinis love a good chase,” Blaise hummed, earning himself a blushing Malfoy. Pansy muttered under her breath as she worked on their skirts. Harry stood in front of a mirror, examining himself as he watched the skirt swish left to right with his movements. He honestly liked what he saw, Harry felt cute in them, but it wasn’t something that he felt comfortable wearing all the time.

Still, maybe Tom would like it. He smiled at the idea and glanced at his friends, “I’ll be right back,” he said and slipped out the door.

It was a quick trip to Tom’s office, Harry’s feet carrying him excitedly. Wearing a skirt felt thrilling—but actually walking in one gave Harry a breeze he didn’t know how to feel about. But still, he felt nice all the same so when he reached the door to Tom’s office, he was smiling brightly.

He knocked as he entered. Tom was behind his desk as always, a large tome open with scrolls of parchment next to it, Tom writing on them as he muttered to himself. Harry couldn’t help but continue smiling as he walked slowly towards Tom. “Tom,” he breathed, his cheeks blushing. “Look.”

Tom just grunted and barely glanced up, “I’m sorry my love but I’m busy. I’ll see you at lunch,” he muttered.

“But Tom—it’ll only take a second! Come on look at me!” Harry demanded.

Tom sighed, still not looking up. “Harry, I’m busy. Look, I’ll see whatever it is at lunch. Besides, shouldn’t you be with your friends right now?”

Harry frowned as he felt his body going cold. He was getting tired of all of this. He wanted Tom to enjoy himself, to enjoy Harry. They were finally together after ten months apart and Tom could barely look up at him? His coldness moved to anger, then guilt for feeling angry. “Fine,” he said, his voice unusually unemotionally. He turned and left, letting the door swing silently closed behind him.

He pushed down his disappointment by the time he returned to his room, smiling at the sight of Blaise showing off his legs and posing in the skirt. “Harry come here!” he yelled over, laughing, and smiling, he did.

Harry enjoyed the day with his friends. Tom barely made an appearance during lunch, by which the boys were long back to wearing their pants. They left late afternoon, Pansy taking her skirts with her, and during dinner Tom pulled Harry into his lap, wrapping his arms around his boy. “My love, what is it that you wanted to show me?” he whispered in Harry’s ear.

“Nothing,” Harry said, sounding dejected. “It doesn’t matter.”

That night, Harry slept in his own bed.

Harry continued to spend the summer between being with his friends and exploring the village. His skin had a healthy glow from staying outside for most of the days, severely contrasting with Tom’s pale skin as the older man seemed to never step outside. He just continued being in his office working on plans and other things that he refused to share with Harry, and only spending time with Harry during meals or at night when they’re asleep. Harry was getting irritated, feeling further away from his love than ever as July went along.

It was the day before his birthday, and Harry was desperate to spend one full day with his boyfriend. Surely he was planning something, Harry hoped as he watched Tom eat the dinner Harry cooked. “This is better than usual,” Tom commented. “When did the house-elves improve?”

“I cooked this,” Harry said, his smile faltering slightly before recovering. “You know Tom, I was wondering if, you know if you have things planned out for tomorrow.”

Tom chuckled, “Of course I do Harry,” he said. “I’ve gotten a lot done this month, but there is still a lot more to do. Tomorrow will be the same as yesterday.”

“Holed up in your office and planning,” Harry said bitterly.

“Yes—but change your attitude Harry, it’s unbecoming,” Tom nodded. Harry inhaled quickly.

“Unbecoming?” he repeated.

“Yes, I know times are tough right now, but we have everything ahead of us,” Tom nodded. “Now is not a time to be bitter, Harry.”

“And why not?” Harry demanded, slamming a fist on the table.

“Harry!”

“Why can’t I be bitter?” Harry demanded. “We’ve been separated for ten months Tom, ten! And now that we’re together again do you know how long we’ve been together?”

“All month, my love, we live together,” Tom said.

Harry gave a cold laugh. “Really? We live together?” he repeated. “God, you’re so fucking stupid.”

Tom stood up quickly, “You will not talk to me like that! Honestly Harry where did this language come from; I did not raise you like that!”

“Raise me? You’re my damn boyfriend, Tom!” Harry yelled, “Though I get if you want to kiss your damn desk more than me because that’s where you spend all your time!”

“Time planning! I would rather spend time with you Harry, but it has to be done!” Tom argued. He was leaning forward on his arms.

Harry laughed again, “Then tell me, Tom! What is so damn important to plan that you ignore your boyfriend?”

“I’m not ignoring you!” Tom said, “When have I ever ignored you?”

Harry gasped and gestured around the room. “All the time this summer!” he yelled. “You didn’t even notice when I cooked for you! Or when I was working in the garden outside your window—or even at the beginning of the summer when I wore a skirt!”

Tom blinked, “You wore a skirt? Why would you do that, you’re a boy Harry.”

Harry scoffed, “Yeah, I am—I’m your boy. At least I thought so.”

“You are Harry, you are my boy!” Tom said. He pulled Harry to him and smashed their mouths together. Harry melted in the kiss for a moment before his rage returned. He growled as he pushed Tom away.

“Excuse me!” he yelled.

“What?” Tom demanded, “Why are you being so frustrating Harry?”

“Frustrating? All I want is to be with my boyfriend!” Harry yelled back. His body started to shake as his fingers started to tingle.

“You are with me!”

“No, I’m not!” Harry exclaimed. “You are with your plans more than me! So again what planning is so much more important than your boyfriend?”

“Everything!” Tom yelled. “You have no idea what it’s like raising an army and your power without anyone noticing! You need research! You need to see which of your old allies are still alive and if they are you need to make sure they will still remain loyal! You need to know the present situations for all dark creatures—know what the current research states on magic both Dark and Light! I’ve lost years Harry—years and I need to start again from scratch! Why don’t you understand how much is at stake here—how much needs to go into this! Adrian would understand this! Adrian would encourage this! Adrian would understand why all of this is more important, so why don’t you, Harry!?”

Harry grew silent. He stepped away from Tom. He felt empty. Cold. Betrayed. He looked at Tom, shocked at his words. Six years seemed to shatter in front of him, and he gave a cold, ugly sneer. “I am not Adrian,” he said and turned to leave the room and Tom in stunned silence.

He ran to the nearest fireplace and threw floo powder into it, saying “Malfoy Manor” before he broke down crying.

He collapsed out of the fireplace, now fully crying on the floor. A house-elf found him and immediately got Mrs. Malfoy who found him. He barely looked up at her, his eyes puffy and face completely red when he asked for Draco. Mrs. Malfoy helped him up and yelled for a house-elf to get her son and water for Harry. She helped the teen out of the room just as Draco ran down to meet him. “What happened?” he demanded.

“Your room, please,” Harry begged. “Mrs. Malfoy, I’m sorry for the mess.”

“It’s fine, the house-elves can clean that up,” she said.

Harry nodded and Draco took him to his room. A glass of water waited for Harry and the two sat down as Harry nursed his cup, taking long, slow sips. “What happened?” Draco asked again and Harry started to cry once more as he told Draco everything. He didn’t care about his appearance. Draco knew everything about Tom. He was the only one Harry could go to about this, and one of the only ones that Harry was comfortable breaking down in front of. He spoke of how lost he felt around Tom. How discarded and left behind as Tom spends all his time in the office, how he only sees Tom in bed or during meals. The loneliness he felt day after day, the anger and resentment that built up inside him as well as the guilt. And finally, the argument that brought Harry to Draco. They were now on Draco’s bed, Harry curled against Draco. “I don’t know what to do,” Harry cried. “How can I live up to everything he expects?”

“Everything’ll be okay,” Draco said, holding Harry to him and petting his hair. “He’s an idiot, you know? Wanting to spend more time with boring books instead of you. You’re too good for him.”

“But I feel horrible,” Harry said, “why did he have to bring up Adrian?”

“Because he’s a man, an awful blind man who doesn’t know what he has,” Draco said. He petted Harry’s hair out of his eyes and fixed his glasses as he sat him up, his hands on Harry’s shoulders. “Know what? Let him miss you. Stay here, alright? Tomorrow’s your birthday, and I was going to tell you tomorrow, but you need some good news. Father has gotten tickets to the World Quidditch Cup and I can invite whoever I want. I already asked Blaise, and I want you to come as well. Box seats, we’ll be with the Idiot of Magic himself but we’ll get to meet the teams after the match. So, wanna come with?”

Harry wiped his eyes and gave a soft, sad smile. “Yeah, yeah that sounds great,” he said.

“Excellent! Now, get it all out and I’ll help you get ready. We don’t want my parents to know that we’re crying over boys, eh?” Draco gave a dry chuckle and the two embraced.

Chapter Text

Chapter 45

Quidditch World Cup

Harry had a wonderful birthday at the Malfoy’s. After his and Draco’s heart-to-heart, they went to Draco’s parents to discuss his extended stay. Mrs. Malfoy was ecstatic to have him over but it took Mr. Malfoy a little more time to convince. “Just until after the Quidditch Cup,” Draco said. “Then he’ll go home. Is that okay Harry?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. He missed Tom, he really did, but he couldn’t help but think that maybe a break would be good for both of them. Still, it was a little heartbreaking to see that he did not get a birthday present from Tom. He took the time to write a letter to Tom so he doesn’t worry, keeping the details brief and telling him that Harry is alright and he will be staying with Draco until the World Cup. He sent the letter before turning to the rest of his presents. One of the stand-out presents being from Pansy who seemed to have finished the skirt she was modifying and packed it gently for him with demands that she gets to see him in it for modifications as well as a promise that next time she will make him pants.

Harry spent the entire day with his friends playing Quidditch or doing mock duels in the Malfoy’s vast grounds. It was almost perfect and left Harry feeling completely happy, even if he missed Tom. For some reason, he expected a response from his boyfriend. A letter, a surprise appearance, but as Harry went to bed alone in his guest room, he couldn’t help but feel completely cold and alone.

All Harry has gotten from Tom was a letter three days after his birthday. For some reason, it both scared and irritated the boy. He wanted more. He wanted Tom to come to him directly. To storm into Malfoy Manor and scream at him, yell at him, get into another argument at him. But instead, it was a letter. A simple letter that Harry didn’t even want to open. So he didn’t. Harry just put the letter to the side, forgotten, and walked downstairs for breakfast.

He could feel the awkward tension in the air as he walked into the family dining room, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. Sitting in Mr. Malfoy’s chair at the head of the table was The Voice of the Dark. He looked completely at ease in the chair, and Harry swore that the man smiled under the hood when he saw Harry. “And there is our prized guest! I am so sorry for coming in unannounced, however, I did send a letter to Mr. Malfoy.”

“Yes,” Mr. Malfoy said tensely. “We are honored that you would visit us. Although, we did not expect you to come so soon.”

The Voice chuckled, “Dark Magic waits for no man, and I have other arrangements. I am here for the boys—mainly Harry, but I have a few tricks I can teach Draco as well. I assume you both have done the rituals needed for Litha and Lughnasadh?”

The two nodded. They were small rituals involving an hour of meditation as they do their best to feel Dark Magic extend towards them and surround them.

“Good,” The Voice smiled. “Six rituals down already, but nine remains. The Ritual of Fear is one of my personal favorites for young hopefuls to conquer. Have you been reading up on it?” He looked at both of them expectantly.

Harry’s cheeks blushed. He did not but Draco answered dutifully. “It’ll happen on Samhain. We will be facing Death directly. It is unique in that it is the only time Death appears to wizards before it is their time to die.”

“That is correct,” The Voice nodded. “You know, I used to know someone obsessed with death. Its ways, its reasons, and how to avoid them…” the Voice shook his head and said, “Well, in the end, Death found him as it finds everyone. But that does not matter. No, what does matter is what I want to teach you two. Draco, have you done any additional rituals?”

“No, sir, I have not yet,” Draco admitted, looking bashful.

“Not to worry, I’m sure we will find a ritual that will interest you,” the Voice smiled, “if not in Britain, then I am positive it exists elsewhere. Now, as for you Harry… we can discuss it after breakfast, I’m a bit famish actually and can do with some food.”

“Uh okay,” Harry nodded. He sat down next to Draco and breakfast was served as normal. Copies of the Daily Prophet came for the adults, who kept to short conversations to complete silence as they ate. Harry spent breakfast wondering what it was that the Voice wanted to teach him.

When they were done, the voice brought Harry and Draco outside. “Lovely day,” the Voice said, looking around the cloudy day. “Honestly, these types of days are my favorite. Especially when rain is in the air but it never falls. It’s a growing anticipation becoming tenser and tenser until—right at the end—it all pops, and the rain falls.” He turned to Harry and Draco. “Right, Draco I have a book on rituals from around the world you might find interesting—just hide it from your parents. There are some not exactly age-appropriate rituals, however, that is the most thorough book I have in my possession. Look through that as I talk with Harry—and then I’ll teach you both a very useful spell.”

The Voice gave Draco a thick book. The blond immediately opened it, his cheeks going red after a moment. Harry wanted to see what Draco was staring at when the Voice stepped into his view. “Do you remember what you told me the day we met?” The Voice asked. “About magic being an extension of yourself?”

“I do,” Harry said.

“Good,” the Voice said, “because that is what Magic is. It is an extension of ourselves, our wills. It bends what we want bent, brings what we want bringing, creates what we want created, and in desperate times destroy what we want annihilated. Magic is both beautiful and destructive, graceful yet powerful. It can be as calming and beautiful as a winter’s breeze or as unforgiving and torturous as a blizzard. And all of that comes from us.”

The Voice paused as if lost in thought. “What do you know, Harry, about wandless magic?”

“It’s very difficult to do, so difficult that not a lot of wizards do it,” Harry said. “I don’t think I ever saw a person use wandless magic—only really Headmaster Dumbledore and To—my mentor.”

“Your mentor being your boyfriend, correct?” The Voice asked. “Tom was his name?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry nodded.

The Voice chuckled. “I’m impressed, but also a little hurt that you’ve forgotten to mention me as well.” He waved his hand and dark purple swirls appeared in his hand, moving like a miniature hurricane. “You will find that the closer you are to Magic—both Dark and Light—the easier it will be to realize that everything is connected.” He moved his hand softly and the small storm followed it. “Summon your orbs,” he commanded.

Harry nodded and did easily with a flick of the wrist. The Voice smiled, “See how easy it is? An extension of yourself, that is what Magic is. I’m telling you this because I want to start you with another form of magic—magic used before there were even wands.”

Harry gasped, “But why? I’ve only just begun my journey!”

“And yet you hold much power! It is a waste to squander the possibilities,” The Voice chuckled. “I’m not asking you to perform great feats now, by the dark no, but I want you to plant the idea in your head, eh? Magic without a wand! Reaching out to the environment around us and pulling at the magic to perform your bidding. The wand is merely a catalyst, Harry, it is you who is powerful.” He took several steps from Harry and faced him. “I want you to summon one of your orbs around me. I want it to appear around me. Understand?”

Harry frowned, “But I always felt them being pulled out. I just can’t make them appear anywhere.”

“Of course you can because you will right now,” The Voice said, smiling at Harry. “Believe in the Dark Arts, Harry, and believe in yourself.”

Harry frowned but nodded. He looked at his hand and watched his orbs dance around his hand and arm before waving them away, the flames disappearing into little wisps. He stared at the Voice. The man was not even ten feet away, yet it felt so far. He held his hand out and felt silly. He felt nothing around him. Whenever he summoned the orbs they were always pulled from him, always a part of him. That was how he understood them.

So? If they are a part of you, why then should they only appear by you? The thought struck Harry. He remembered when Professor Flitwick had him summon his orbs one after another to place into a bowl. He was able to keep a few of them active even when they weren’t around his body, so why shouldn’t he be able to summon the orbs wherever he wanted?

His finger twitched and he felt something. Like a small sting or lick of fire. He felt it again and his finger twitched again. The sensation was a pull, but it wasn’t from inside him, instead, it was from all around. He followed it and found that the more he focused, the more there was to find. He found the one near the Voice and focused on that. It was hard, his forehead became sweaty as he concentrated. Then he felt a burn on his finger, and he flicked his wrist.

A singular small ball of fire appeared in front of the Voice of the Dark. It hovered for a moment, illuminating his face in that instant and Harry once again saw his sad ageless eyes before it disappeared. The Voice clapped, “Excellent Harry, excellent! Proper show!”

He went to Harry and clasped his shoulder, “That was outstanding Harry. Did you feel the magic around you?”

“I felt something,” Harry said, frowning. “Strange pulls that came from everywhere.”

“Our magic comes from us, that is true, but it also surrounds the world,” The Voice said. “Wandless magic is simply exerting your magic and will at an object. But through this method, through reaching out and actually feeling the magic around you, you can achieve something more. I will tell you that it is very difficult, besides me, there were only two other people I know who can do what I am describing. But with practice and dedication, I know you can be the third.”

Harry smiled, feeling incredibly touched. “I—thank you,” he said. “I promise I won’t let you down.”

The voice smiled and reached up to place a loose lock of hair back, “Oh Harry, I know you won’t. Now—before I leave, how about a spell, boys?” He grinned. Harry and Draco jumped at the chance, and they spend the next twenty minutes learning of a small jinx that leaves their victims delirious. The Voice then had to leave. He bowed to them before going inside to say goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy then disappeared into the shadows.

Harry and Draco spent the rest of the morning making themselves and the house-elves delirious, laughing at the high stumbling feeling they had and watching the house-elves constantly bump into each other. It was fun, and by the afternoon they both were confident that they mastered the spell and couldn’t wait to show their friends… and use it on Weasley.

The Quidditch World Cup was held in the middle of August. Harry, Draco, and Blaise would spend two days there with Mr. Malfoy in order to catch the final match, Bulgaria versus Ireland. They left the morning of the match, the boys insisting on camping there like everyone else. Though when he first heard of it, Harry thought it was a hilarious and ludicrous idea to have them all camping—he could not even begin to possibly imagine Draco or Mr. Malfoy setting up a tent, let alone living in one.

He couldn’t wait to see it.

Blaise came to them in the morning, already wearing reds and black for Bulgaria. The three boys spent breakfast talking excitedly about the match until Mrs. Malfoy cleared her throat, smiling. “Is your mother alone, Blaise?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded.

“It’s such a shame what happened to her husband,” Mrs. Malfoy went on, shaking her head politely. “She must be quite heartbroken. I must give Camilla a visit before I join you for the game.”

“I’m sure she would like that very much, ma’am,” Blaise said politely. Mrs. Malfoy smiled and Harry saw the relieved look on Blaise’s face.

“I’m so happy he’s gone!” Blaise told Harry and Draco once they were done with breakfast. “He really was horrendous.”

“What happened?” Harry asked.

Blaise frowned, “Something we’re better not knowing, at least that is what mother told me.”

“Who cares, he’s gone,” Draco shrugged. “Pity I thought he was gone a long time ago—I barely remembered he existed.”

“That is enough boys,” Mr. Malfoy said. “It is time to go.” He escorted the boys out of the manor and down the pathway until they crossed property lines. With a small sneer of disdain, he pulled out what looked like an old boot from the pocket of his robes, muttering something about issuing a complaint to Fudge. He checked his pocket-watch and said, “One minute. Hold on.”

They did and a minute later Harry felt as though a hook just behind his navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. His feet left the ground; he could feel Blaise and Draco on either side of him, their shoulders banging into his; they were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color. Their feet slammed into the ground, the four standing and looking windswept.

“Twenty past nine, Wiltshire,” a voice said.

Harry turned to see that they have appeared on a deserted stretch of misty moor. There were two disgruntled wizards dressed inexpertly as muggles. “Mr. Malfoy!” one of them said fearfully, “Right on time, sir.”

“Yes,” Mr. Malfoy stated shortly. “Come along boys.” He tossed the boot at the two and continued on. They followed Mr. Malfoy, leaving the flabbergasted wizards behind them. They walked through the deserted moor, unable to see much through the mist for twenty minutes when a stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Outside was a muggle whom Mr. Malfoy spoke very briefly with to confirm the plot for their tent. Harry got a map of the campsite. They went on through a row of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bellpulls, or weather vanes. However, here and there was a tent so obviously magical that Harry hardly believed if the owner had ever seen a tent before. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little farther on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.

They stopped at an empty space with a sign that read Malfoy. Harry looked at Draco and Mr. Malfoy and wondered for a moment if they would attempt to put up the tent by hand. However, Mr. Malfoy simply waved his wand, and the equipment moved by itself until, in a matter of moments, a large bright silver tent built itself up it had turrets on either side along with a long canopy shadowing a fully decorated dining table on the outside. “More than spacious for the three of you,” Mr. Malfoy said. “I shall be back to bring you all to the games. Until then, I’m afraid I will be rather busy. Now boys, behave yourselves and try to avoid speaking with the muggles or muggle-lovers.”

“Don’t worry father,” Draco said as Harry gave the man a sharp disappointing look. “We can take care of ourselves.”

“I expect you to,” he said and walked off.

Draco turned to Harry and grinned, “Come on, have you ever been inside a wizarding tent?”

“No,” Harry said as Blaise opened the flap for them. “After you two,” he said with a low bow. Draco went in first with Harry right behind him. Instead of a regular tent, they walked into what looked to be a modest home, complete with bedrooms and a kitchen. The furniture matched the furniture in Malfoy Manor, and there was even a house-elf dusting pictures on the walls. “I can cook,” Harry suggested, “if it is just going to be the five of us.”

“I’m sure father will convince some officials to eat with us,” Draco said.

“Then I’ll make more,” Harry said, “Come on, please! It’s been forever since I cooked! Not since I left—not since I came to your home.”

Draco looked unconvinced but Blaise jumped at the idea, “I would love to have your cooking Harry! Come on Dray, it’ll be good!”

“Alright, but don’t expect the house-elf to take it lightly,” Draco shrugged.

“I can handle it, don’t worry,” Harry grinned. “But how about we have a look around? I have never been surrounded by so many wizarding families before!” He couldn’t hold his excitement as he looked around the tent once more. Would Tom like something like this, he couldn’t help himself but wonder. The others agreed and they stepped out only to see an owl flying towards them with a Ministry official running after them. The owl landed on Harry’s shoulder and held its leg out to give him the letter it was holding.

“You boys! What do you think you’re playing at?” The official panted. “We don’t want the muggles thinking of something and you’re having your mail mailed here? Are you daft?”

“Uh sorry sir, I did not expect this,” Harry said, petting the owl’s head. It hooted softly and flown away. The official was still glaring at Harry.

“Fine, read your letter but do not send a reply until you’re back home! Understand? We don’t want muggles wondering why there’s a swarm of owls here!” The official said before walking off grumbling.

Harry, Blaise, and Draco gave each other strange looks. “Who’s it from?” Blaise asked. Harry felt a jolt of fear at the letter, wondering if it was from Tom. But it wasn’t. Instead, as he opened the letter up he gasped, “It’s from my godparents! I haven’t heard from them all summer!”

Harry,

So sorry we took so long to finally write to you, it turns out that reversing the effects of Azkaban along with cleaning up a home that’s barely been occupied for thirteen years takes more time than we thought. We left you a present at your home only for your mentor to write back that you’re staying with the Malfoys and will be going to World Cup. Firstly, Sirius is hoping that you’re supporting Ireland, he is rather fond of their teams, and secondly, I want to hear how you are doing. Though he did not say it directly in his letter, I had the feeling that things are tense between you and your boyfriend. Are you okay? How are you feeling? Would you like us to visit? Sirius and I were planning on coming over near the end of August before you have to leave however we will come sooner if needed.

That said, some good news. Sirius is doing better. He’s putting on weight again and is beginning to look relatively healthy. I was also able to do something with his crazed, wild hair. He looks human again, more filled out. I too am doing good. We do not have a supply of Wolfsbane yet, however with Sirius I can lock ourselves in the basement during the full moon and we spend the night together.

I hope whatever that is between you and your boyfriend isn’t serious and that you will be able to reconcile. I know personally how big arguments can be in relationships, especially when it is your first. I think it was a good idea for you to take a step back, personally, however I warn you that you shouldn’t let him feel abandoned.

We’re looking forward to your letter Harry.

Remus and Sirius

Harry folded the letter and licked his lips in anticipation. “They’re doing good and they’re wondering how things are between me and my boyfriend,” he said carefully. Blaise looked at him confused while Draco nodded.

“Are things good?” Blaise asked.

“I—I hope so,” Harry said. “Look, let’s not think about him today, okay? I’m seeing him tomorrow anyway, so that’s a problem for tomorrow Harry. Today’s just about the game.”

“Good on you!” Blaise cheered and he patted Harry’s back. The teen pocketed his letter and grinned, as the three set out. They spent the day walking around the city of tents, Harry was personally amazed and shocked at how many witches and wizards there were in the world. They saw some familiar faces, they ran into Seamus Finnigan and his boyfriend Dean Thomas the two groups giving each other a heated look as they passed each other before the three Slytherins ran into friendlier people. Every few feet, vendors appeared selling merchandise. There were luminous rosettes—green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria—which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.

Harry picked up a pair of brass binoculars that were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials. “Omnioculars,” the saleswizard said eagerly. “You can replay action, slow everything down, and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Bargain—ten Galleons each.”

Harry brought three pairs—thrusting the two Omnioculars into Blaise’s and Draco’s hands as they told him that he didn’t need to buy stuff for them. “Harry please you already brought Salem for me!” Blaise said.

“And now you have a pair of Omnioculars to watch him run around,” Harry said, grinning at Blaise. The taller teen sputtered and hooked an arm around Harry’s neck.

“I hate it when you use that face,” He said, and Harry just laughed.

They met up with Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy back at the tent just as a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.

“Finally,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Remember boys, we’ll be in the Top Box with Ministry officials. Do not disappoint me.” His eyes went to Draco who gave a short nod and kept his head down. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy went on ahead but Harry stayed back to silently put his hand on Draco’s shoulder. Blaise did the same and the blond looked at the two, smiling softly.

Harry let Blaise’s hand stay on Draco as they followed into the woods. They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious; Harry couldn’t stop grinning despite Mr. Malfoy’s warning just minutes prior. Draco too seemed to catch the mood as he took the initiative and took Blaise’s hand in his. Blaise raised an eyebrow but grinned along with Draco as they went down the path.

They reached the immense stadium and Mr. Malfoy led them to stairs that were carpeted in rich purple. They clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. They kept climbing, however, until at last they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here. The box was empty except for a small house-elf at the end. “Must be saving someone’s seat,” Draco commented before moving into a seat himself far away from the house-elf. Harry and Blaise followed as well. Over the next half hour, the box slowly filled, Mr. Malfoy greeting people who were obviously very important wizards. Then, lastly, a group of redheads walked in causing Harry to sneer. The Weasleys, somehow, got tickets for the Top Box. While Harry was friends with Fred and George and was able to charm their parents, it was the youngest son, Ron Weasley, who was determined to be the bane of his life.

Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley looked at each other, and Harry vividly recalled the last time they had come face-to-face. Mr. Malfoy’s cold gray eyes swept over Mr. Weasley and then up and down the gang surrounding him. “Good lord, Arthur,” he said softly. “What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your home wouldn’t have fetched this much?”

Fudge, who wasn’t listening, said, “Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He’s here as my guest.”

“How—how nice,” Mr. Weasley said with a very strained smile. The group filtered in and while Ron glared at Harry, Fred and George waved at him. Harry waved back and the last man ran in. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed, but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.

“Ludo Bagman!” The Minister said, “Finally we can begin.”

Bagman took the role of the announcer and began by introducing the team mascots. He started with Bulgaria who brought Veela, beautiful women who danced and glided through the air. It was a pretty performance in Harry’s opinion, but the real entertainment was watching most of the Weasley men, especially Ron, seemingly go wild for them. He remembered he read about Veela one time, that they had a power to make people who were attracted to women go wild. It was a neat trick in his opinion and wondered what Ireland could do to beat it.

The answer was leprechauns. A comet of green and gold zoomed into the stadium, separating into smaller and smaller comets as leprechauns rained gold onto the stadium as they made rainbows and finally a shamrock that exploded into gold. Then the players were introduced. Harry used his Omnioculars to watch them all, and he felt his heart stop for a moment when the Bulgarian Seeker was introduced.

“Viktor Krum!”

Viktor Krum was muscularly thick, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen. For some reason, Harry couldn’t keep his eyes off of him. He kept watching Krum as the Irish team was announced. Bagman yelled for the game to start, and Harry’s eyes never left Krum.

It was incredible! Harry felt normal for a change, like a regular teenager as he watched Krum fly around, only half-listening to the commentary. His heart throbbed the more he stared at the older teen, his cheeks started to blush before he realized that he was starting to develop a celebrity crush on him. Thoughts of Tom evaporated just for this moment between Harry and Krum as he continued to watch, sometimes slowing the Omnioculars down while other times watching play-by-play to see his every move. Harry wanted to examine every inch of Krum, every curve, he wanted to explore Krum and see how a man that large, and that fit was somehow the perfect Seeker. His blush deepened the more he watched, completely enthralled by the Bulgarian Seeker. Both teams scored, but it didn’t matter to Harry. All that mattered was watching his new fascination.

On and on the game went with Harry solely watching Krum. He loved it when Krum faked out Ireland’s seeker twice, using a move that Harry desperately wanted Krum to teach him. In the end, Ireland won but it was Krum who caught the snitch.

For the first time, Harry put down the Omnioculars, feeling completely exhausted and emotional over everything. The Top Box was suddenly magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. Turning towards the entrance, Harry saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge. “Let’s have a really loud hand for the gallant losers—Bulgaria!” Bagman shouted.

And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd was applauding appreciatively; Harry could see thousands and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and winking in their directions. One by one the Bulgarians filed between the two rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the names of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge. Then Krum walked in and Harry’s breath was once again stolen. He looked like a warrior returning from battle, the snitch still in his hand. He looked more awkward on foot, but that did not matter to Harry. He never thought that he would be this close this soon to his new crush. Krum stood to stand right near Harry. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

Krum looked around the Top Box and by some miracle their eyes met. Harry’s face became red as he panted, his lips suddenly dry. His tongue peeked out to wet them instinctively and he chanced to smile.

Krum returned the smile and winked.

Chapter Text

Chapter 46

Meeting Krum

“He winked at me!” Harry cheered, “Did you see that? He looked right at me and winked!”

“Careful Harry, I think you’re in love,” Blaise teased as they made their way back to the tent. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy stayed behind to speak with the Minister.

“I—shut up,” Harry stuttered. “I have a boyfriend, you know.”

“Still didn’t stop you from ogling him the entire game,” Blaise snickered.

“I was not ogling!” Harry said defensively. “I was watching the Seeker of the team that I was rooting for.”

“You were watching more than that,” Blaise said, sticking his tongue out. Harry swung at him but missed, causing Blaise to laugh loudly. “You should have invited him for dinner, Harry. Be like, ‘Oh I know we just met, but I would love if you would be my second boyfriend, Viktor.”

“Shut up!” Harry yelled, his face completely red. Draco laughed as well as he continued to hold Blaise’s hand. Blaise hooked an arm around Harry’s shoulder and continued to grin.

“Come on Harry, you know we’re just joking,” he said. “Come on, you have a dinner to make, right?”

“It’s late at night,” Harry said, “I didn’t know the game would go on so long. Do you think Mr. Malfoy would actually invite the Minister to dinner?” He looked at Draco.

The blonde looked up at the night sky and shrugged, “Who knows,” he said. They were soon caught up in the crowds flooding back to the campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward them on the night air as they retraced their steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over their heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When they finally reached the tent, nobody felt like sleeping at all. It was too late for Harry to start a full meal but agreed to make a cup of cocoa, leaving a kettle of boiling water for whatever Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy want to drink when they come back. “Mother and Father aren’t going to sleep here,” Draco informed Harry as he kept glancing at the tent flap and back at the kettle. “They were just here for the match—I thought I told you this.”

“Oh, no you did not,” Harry said, feeling embarrassed. He stood up to put the kettle away and returned to sit around with Draco and Blaise, the three getting into an enjoyably heated debate on the match.

Just as Draco said, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy did not come back as the night went on. None of the boys wanted to sleep, taking sips of their hot chocolate and moving on to different topics. Draco gave a yawn and, in the effort to stay awake, the three agreed to switch to coffee. From outside, they could still hear singing as well as an odd echoing bang.

Then the noise changed. The singing stopped. Harry could hear screams, the sound of people running. The three instantly jumped up and ran outside, their wands in their hands. By the light of the few fires that were still burning, he could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Harry squinted at them. … They didn’t seem to have faces. Then he realized that their heads were hooded and their faces masked. High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small.

More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice Harry saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.

The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and Harry recognized one of them as the muggle who managed the campsite. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. “How grotesque,” Blaise muttered, watching the smallest muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side.

“Who are they?” Harry asked although he felt he knew the answer already. Blaise and Draco looked at each other and it only confirmed his suspicion. “He can’t have ordered this,” Harry said, “He wouldn’t!”

“They sound drunk,” Draco frowned, “I don’t think this was planned. But either way, let’s get out of here.” He pointed towards the woods and they nodded. The crowd was coming closer and the three ran for the woods. Harry could hear Ministry wizards behind them trying to get through to the hooded figures in the center. He looked back only when they were behind the trees to see they were having difficulty. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the muggle family fall.

The screaming crowd reached the woods. Harry, Draco, and Blaise tried to keep together as they moved deeper into the woods. Harry was pushed roughly out of the way and he was knocked into a tree. “Harry!” he heard Draco call out to him. He looked around quickly as he got up, his head dizzy. He didn’t see his friends anywhere. He opened his mouth to scream for his friends when he was shoved again and hands grabbed him, pulling him towards a solid, hot body and he was ushered deep into the woods and away from the crowd. He looked up to see Viktor Krum looking ahead stony. “Krum?”

The professional Seeker looked down and smiled, “Are you okay?” he asked, his English rough with his accent.

“Yeah—wait my friends! Where are you talking me?” Harry asked.

“To safety,” Krum said. “I’m sure your friends are safe, I want to check on you first.”

“Ohh,” Harry said, blushing slightly. The two walked deeper into the woods until the sounds of screams and the rioters seemed to almost disappear. They stopped and Krum illuminated the space with his wand as he leaned Harry against a tree. “I’m Krum, Viktor Krum, but you might know that,” Krum said, chuckling.

“I’m Harry Potter,” Harry said, his cheeks blushing for some reason. Krum gave a rueful grin and started to check Harry’s body for any injuries.

“It is nice to meet you, Harry Potter,” he said. “I saw you in the Top Box.”

“Y-Yeah, you were next to me,” Harry said. He felt awkward as Krum gently caressed his face, turning him gently from one side to the other. He wanted Krum’s touch to never go away as his cheeks blushed. “I uhh kept watching you during the game. You were amazing.”

“Oh is that so?” Krum asked. “Your girlfriend must have been jealous.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend, I’m gay,” Harry said truthfully. He didn’t know what went over him, he just felt that he shouldn’t lie to Krum.

“Then, I’m very glad to have a beautiful boy watching over me,” Krum chuckled.

“I—thank you,” Harry blushed, he couldn’t help himself smiling, thoughts of Tom and any guilt he should be feeling being brushed away. Harry was still a little mad at him. Harry inhaled deeply and smelled a deep earthy, musky scent that came from the man in front of him.

“Your head is good, now your arm please?” Krum said and he moved to examine Harry’s arms. “You go to school, right?”

“Yeah, Hogwarts,” Harry nodded. “Are you still a student too?”

“I am,” Krum chuckled. “Though it is sad that my school has no beauties like you. I go to Durmstrang.”

“I heard of that,” Harry said, smiling softly. His stomach flipped, filling with butterflies.

“Your arms are unharmed as well, you are really lucky, my little boy,” Krum smiled. He caressed Harry’s cheek again and the boy swore he saw stars.

“HARRY!”

They both looked up at the sound. “My friends,” Harry whispered.

“I’ll get you back to them,” Krum said, and before Harry could react he kissed Harry’s cheek, his skin blazing at where Krum’s lips met his cheek. “And until we see each other again, you’ll be in all of my dreams, my little boy. Will you wait for me?” Dimly, his head swimming in sensory overload, Harry nodded. Krum kissed him again and smiled, “Then until October. Come, let’s find your friends.” He took Harry’s hand and pulled him along.

It felt like stumbling back to reality. The screams got louder, snapping Harry out of his hazy thoughts. They returned to the main path and followed the screams of Harry’s name until they ran into Blaise and Draco. They were alone now, the four of them standing in the path as the screams died down. “Harry!” Blaise said and he ran the rest of the way, hugging him tightly. “We thought we lost you—are you okay?”

“I—yeah, Krum helped me,” Harry said. He turned and looked at Krum, “Thank you,” he said, his cheeks blushing deeply.

“Of course, my boy,” Krum said, giving Harry a wink. “I’ll see you later then, I’m going to go see if I can help.” And just like that, Krum ran off.

“What happened?” Draco demanded, “Why are you and Krum together?”

“He helped me when we got separated,” Harry said, “then he made sure that I wasn’t injured, I was pushed into trees twice.”

Draco nodded, and then there was another flash of light along with a voice that screamed out “MORSMORDRE!”

Through the trees, Harry saw something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness and flew over the treetops and into the sky. It was a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

“Well, there’s your answer,” Blaise said, sounding bitter as the wood all around them erupted with screams. Seeing Harry’s confusion, Blaise nodded towards the sky, “The Dark Lord’s mark. The Dark Mark,” he said.

The butterflies that were in Harry’s stomach just moments before turned to iron. Anger filled Harry. He wanted to believe that it wasn’t Tom. That Tom didn’t orchestrate this drunken attack. His return wouldn’t be drunken attacks. It wouldn’t involve torturing Muggles. Torturing children…

“We should go,” Draco said. He pulled out an old necklace with a long chain. He pulled Blaise and Harry to him and wrapped the chain around them.

“What is this?” Harry asked.

“Emergency portkey it’ll take us home. Hold on tight,” Draco said and he tapped the necklace twice with his thumb. Harry felt the familiar tugging sensation on his navel and the forest around them disappeared in a swirl of colors. They landed on the grounds of Malfoy Manor, and the next second Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were running towards them.

“What the devil is going on?” Mr. Malfoy demanded. “Draco, explain!”

“There was an attack,” Draco said, still holding onto Harry and Blaise. “Death Eaters rioted. They were drunk—they had muggles—and someone did his mark in the air.”

Mrs. Malfoy gasped. “By the dark…”

Mr. Malfoy showed no emotions. “Get in and clean yourselves up,” he said and turned to leave.

Harry’s mind was fully on Tom. He needed answers. So as soon as Draco had his necklace off of him, Harry patted his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed and told his friends, “I need to see him.”

“I understand,” Draco nodded. “But clean up first, you have leaves in your hair and I don’t want him to worry.” He took Harry’s hand gently and pulled him inside.

Guilt recked Harry. What was he thinking? Doubting Tom. Doing those things with Krum? He was an idiot. A stupid, stupid idiot. He deserved to be screamed at, to be yelled at but all he wanted was Tom’s arms. He wanted his love to hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay. Even if they may never be okay again.

He moved automatically as he worried about Tom. Will he hate me? Will he know? But we did nothing! Krum kissed my cheek, but I didn’t reciprocate. I didn’t even want to. Did I? Harry’s stomach churned and he pushed down whatever feeling that was bubbling inside. Draco brought him to his bathroom and helped Harry wash his face and try to control his hair which looked extra chaotic due to the night’s events.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay the night?” Draco asked when they were done.

“Yeah, I just want Tom,” Harry whispered. Draco pulled him into a hug and the two stood like that for a long moment until Blaise knocked on the door, “Are you two done yet?”

“Damn boy,” Draco muttered and Harry chuckled.

“You like him,” Harry said in a soft teasing tone.

“I know,” Draco groaned. “But it’s good that we’re holding hands, right?”

“Did you talk about it yet?”

“Not really… I’m a bit scared,” Draco admitted. “But I don’t think I can be alone tonight either.”

Harry smiled at that, “Then I’ll give you two some room. I’ll write to you later.” He moved away and opened the door for Blaise, “I’m leaving,” he said with conviction. “Goodnight.”

“Night Harry,” Blaise said, “I’ll see you later?”

“Of course,” Harry smiled. He hugged Blaise and the two walked Harry down to the floo room. They waved Harry off as Harry stepped inside the fireplace and threw the powder down, saying clearly as green flames took him, “Riddle House!”

He stepped out of his fireplace only for the house-elves to appear immediately. “Master Harry! Master Harry is back!” Zanpy said.

“Yeah, sorry uhh, where’s Tom?” Harry asked as he waved his wand to clean the ash he was leaving. The house-elves looked at each other then Wakey stepped up, “Master Harry shouldn’t bother Master Tom now. We were told not to bother him right now because—”

“Of course,” Harry scoffed. “The dick.” He moved past the house-elves, ignoring their pleas to stop. He didn’t see Tom for so long and this was what he was greeted with? Him not wanting to be bothered? Who does he think he is!?

Harry entered the main foyer only to hear screaming. There was an unfamiliar man screaming on the floor and contorting in pain as Lord Voldemort stood on the steps, his face not hooded as he aimed his wand at the man. For a moment Harry was scared but he pushed that down. “Hello!” he said a bit too roughly and loudly. The curse stopped and Voldemort looked at Harry.

“Go to your room, I’ll talk with you when I’m done,” Voldemort said, and he continued the curse before the man on the floor could move.

Any guilt that Harry felt was washed away by a flood of anger. “Is that all?” he demanded but Voldemort did not answer. His scarlet eyes had a glint as he continued to torture the man. Harry felt too angry to argue and too exhausted to do anything. He stood for a moment, just watching, until his feet shuffled closer to the pair of them, then went silently up the stairs.

His thoughts started to cloud. He hated Tom at that moment. Hated Voldemort. But at the same time he felt guilty for feeling such hatred, longing for some sentiment, and in the end only feeling alone. He didn’t know why he chose to go to Tom’s bedroom instead of his own. He changed and crawled into Tom’s bed, inhaling the scent, and sighing longingly. Tom’s smell could always calm him. He laid there in the dark. He didn’t know how long. He just wanted to stay awake until Tom comes in. So he can yell at the young man or hug him, Harry wasn’t sure.

The door creaked open slowly and Harry saw Tom’s silhouette in the doorframe. He held his breath as Tom walked towards the bed, taking off his robes and clothes as he did so. “My sweet little snake,” Tom purred. He got into bed and pressed himself against Harry. Tom’s lips met Harry’s neck as he inhaled deeply in his hair. “I missed you so much, I’m so relieved that you weren’t hurt.” That was all Tom said. He held Harry close and before he knew it, Harry could hear Tom’s soft breathing as he fell asleep. Harry laid there praying for sleep to come to him.

He didn’t know how to feel. He wanted to beg for forgiveness and demand an apology from Tom. His thoughts kept swimming and Harry felt awful until the events of the day finally caught up to him, and he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Chapter 47

Separated, Again

Harry woke up in Tom’s arms, the older boy kissing his neck softly. Harry mewled and Tom pressed himself against Harry, a thick, long hardness sliding against his backside. Harry mewled again and instinctively pushed back. Tom chuckled, “Good morning little prince.”

Harry turned slightly until Tom was kissing him fully. He allowed Tom to kiss him, but a question fell from his lips, making both of them stop. “Was it you?” He didn’t need to elaborate, didn’t need to explain. Both knew what exactly Harry was asking. Was it you who ordered the attack last night?

“No, no that was not me,” Tom said, sounding sincere. “I’m angry at them. At those stupid drunken people who dare to use my masks and my mark at the end. The man who was here last night was one of them. He was the one who cast my mark in the air and then escape to me looking for sanctuary.”

Harry relaxed slightly but still felt odd being in Tom’s arms. He moved to sit up but Tom’s grip on him tighten. “Don’t leave,” Tom said, sounding more like a command than a plea. “You’ve been away from me for too long.”

“And whose fault is that?” Harry asked. He shrugged off Tom’s hands and got out of bed. He decided to go to his own room to change and get ready, walking slowly as he listened for any sounds of movement. They never came, and Harry didn’t know if he should feel relieved or disappointed.

When he was clean and dressed, Harry went down to see Tom already in the kitchen with their breakfasts on the table. “His name is Barty Crouch Jr.,” Tom started to say.

“I don’t care,” Harry spat out. “Tell me he’s gone, Tom. I don’t want him in my house.”

“No, he is not gone, I have use of him,” Tom said. “Look Harry, he is the only follower who was smart enough to come back to his Lord. We must use him.”

“Why?” Harry demanded. “Why do we need him? Why do we need any of this now? Do you even care that I wasn’t here? I was gone for weeks—weeks, Tom! You knew where I was but still sent only one letter? Not even a damn birthday gift! Why is that? Was your planning too damn precious and important to even think about your boyfriend?”

“Harry,” Tom groaned, “Please love, we are not arguing this early in the morning.”

“Yes we are, or you will have no love by lunch!” Harry yelled. “We only have two months together Tom. Two. And I wanted to do stuff together. I wanted to go on dates, to spend time together, to explore our damn home and the village with you—even have you socialize with my friends! Because that’s what boyfriends do, Tom. But did you? No, you spend the entire summer locked up in your stupid office—”

“I was doing important research and figuring how to control my followers without having them be mass-murdering idiots—”

“DO NOT INTERRUPT ME!” Harry screamed out, swiping his arm as he stood and knocking his plate and cup to the ground where it smashed into pieces. “THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT! IT IS NEVER US WITH YOU TOM! IT IS ALWAYS YOU AND YOUR STUPID PLANS! I AM DONE BEING SECOND-PLACED TO YOUR FUCKING PLANS! DO YOU KNOW HOW UNDERAPPRECIATED I FEEL? HOW AWFUL IT FELT WHEN YOU COMPARED ME TO ADRIAN? HUH?” Harry heaved. His body was shaking, he could barely control his chest as all of his built-up rage and emotions came out once more. He hated that Tom was still sitting. He hated how calm Tom looked, how he wasn’t reacting with equal anger at him. Yell back. Yell at me! Call me names, scream you’re sorry just something, please!

Tom just looked from Harry to the broken plate. He waved his hand and the plate and cup repaired themselves, floating to the table. Harry grabbed them again and threw them on the ground. “Harry, honestly,” Tom said.

“YELL AT ME!” Harry screamed. “Why are you just sitting there like nothing happened?” His body convulsed and he couldn’t stop his face from flushing or the tears welling up. “Don’t you care about me? Don’t you care about us?”

“Of course I do, you’re my little snake, I love you—”

“Then tell me,” Harry demanded. “Fight for me! Not once Tom have you ever said ‘I love you, Harry,’ not once! You always called me by my pet name. By Adrian’s pet name.” He didn’t want to say it, he didn’t want to dare hear the truth but he couldn’t stop himself. He needed it as much as it would hurt. “Tom, am I just a replacement for Adrian?”

Tom’s chair fell with the force that he got up. Tom’s arms were around Harry once more, his hand burying itself in Harry’s long black locks and the boy finally broke down as he was pressed against Tom’s chest. “No Harry, no,” Tom said soothingly. “Not once did I ever think you were a replacement.”

“I hate you,” Harry cried. “I hate you so much, but I hate myself more.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t stop loving you,” Harry cried. Tom’s arms tightened around the young teen. He sighed and shook his head as he let Harry cry.

“I’m so much older than you,” He muttered. “It’s frightening at times. I’ve grown old only to regain my youth, but you Harry are still only fourteen. I apologize, Harry, I’m truly sorry. I love you Harry, and I’m a fool for letting my thirst for conquest make me blind to what is most important in my life: you. My perfect husband. My perfect Harry.” Harry continued to cry, but Tom felt him relax under his touch and words.

He helped Harry out of the room and into the nearest drawing room so they can sit down. Harry continued to cry, not caring that he looked weak. It was Tom. He was allowed to be fully vulnerable in front of him. His shaking slowly stopped. His breath became even, and Harry felt extremely tired, but he didn’t want to succumb to it. Instead, he sniffled as he looked up at Tom and silently took the offered tissue from him to clean his face. “What are we going to do?” he asked. “I can’t keep doing this, Tom.”

“I know,” Tom said sadly. “But it would look suspicious if you just quit Hogwarts.”

“I can’t stay away from you for so long Tom,” Harry said pleadingly. “Please, there has to be some way!”

“There is, you do not need to worry,” Tom said. He fixed Harry’s hair, his fingers feeling soft and comforting against Harry’s clammy skin. “The man I’ve mentioned before, Crouch, I have plans for him. He will keep an eye on you and Hogwarts. He’s gone now, he went off to capture an Auror named Alastor Moody. I’ve heard that Dumbledore plans on having him be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year, and so our man—yes Harry, our man, will impersonate him.” Harry’s heart sank as Tom explained. He didn’t want a glorified babysitter, but that was exactly what Tom was giving him. They would still be separate, Harry in the castle and Tom in his office. Nothing would change. He looked at Tom bitterly but said nothing.

Tom seemed to sense Harry’s anger as he said, “I know, you do not need someone looking after you, but he is insurance. He doesn’t know your true allegiance. All he knows is that he is to keep an eye on Harry Potter, as well as the rest of the school. It is all in preparation for my return.”

“What is your return?” Harry asked his tone still hard. “What are you going to do?”

“I will tell you when I have the finer details ironed out,” Tom said. Harry hated how dismissive that sounded. “All you need to know is that you will be there as my Prince, and on that night we will see who is truly loyal.”

“Fine,” Harry said. He still felt bad, but he didn’t want to push it. He just wanted things right between them. Uncomplicated. He just wanted to live out his days in Tom’s arms.

Tom had a house-elf bring their breakfast to the drawing-room. The two did not separate, Harry staying curled against Tom as the tray appeared. Tom’s arm stayed latched around the younger teen as he fed him, Harry complaining at first but soon kept to sharp, but amused glares as he opened his mouth willingly and expectantly.

They spent the rest of the day in each other’s arms.

Much like Remus wrote, he and Sirius visited a couple of days later. Tom decided to not use a glamour and appeared as himself, wanting to keep his arms and lips on Harry even in front of Remus and Sirius. “This is a charming house, if a little big,” Remus said as he and Sirius walked in after lunch. Sirius was looking a little better. He didn’t look skeletal at least, more filled out, and his hair was now stylistically shaggy instead of a chaotic long mess that it was before. “Where did you say your father was?”

“Urgent business in Sweden,” Tom said smoothly.

“Shame,” Sirius said shortly, his eyes never leaving Tom. Harry could sense that the man didn’t like what he saw. However whether it was the house or Tom himself, he didn’t know. Harry led them to a small patio outside. It was a sunny day, and Harry thought that Tom could desperately use the sun. Besides, if he had any idea where the conversations might go, Harry thought that he might need the fresh air. There were two outdoor sofas on the patio, as well as a table with chairs for people to eat. Harry and Tom occupied one sofa as Remus and Sirius took the other. Remus looked around the backyard, “You have a beautiful garden,” he commented, pointing at a garden full of colorful flowers.

Harry smiled, “Thanks, I did most of that, but the house-elves did help a little.”

“Yes, house-elves,” Sirius muttered. “Have you always have them?”

“No, this is the first time,” Harry admitted. “It’s really odd, to be honest, being weighed upon. I don’t think I can ever get used to it—and sometimes you just want to do the chores yourself. Especially cooking.”

“You’ve cooked?” Sirius asked, staring at Tom with an accusatory tone.

“Yes, he does,” Tom answered, greeting Sirius’ stare with a smile. “His muggle relatives forced him to cook for them—as well as doing most chores—however when he moved in with my father and me, some of those forced punishments turned out to be enjoyable.”

“And I’m really good at it too,” Harry boasted pridefully. It’s true, he hated cooking for the Dursleys, however, it helped him develop the skill and cooking for himself and Tom made him love it. And he always loved gardening, mostly as a chance to escape outside.

Sirius still looked cautious of Tom but nodded. Remus looked around and said, “I notice you have different gardens, those are potion ingredients, correct?”

“Yes, the house-elves tend to those,” Tom nodded.

“Why is that?” Sirius asked.

Harry answered with a shrug, “Most of them look boring to grow. But how are you two? Are you recovering alright, Sirius?”

“I am, thank you, Harry,” Sirius said awkwardly. He looked finally to Harry and did his best to smile. “Also helps that the Ministry stopped bothering us.”

Harry grinned at that, “I can guess, I just met the Minister during the World Cup. I’m not impressed.”

“You met him? Must have got good seats,” Sirius said, “Remus and I stayed up listening to the wireless. I did not see that end coming! Ireland winning but that Krum fellow getting the snitch? Must have been great to watch!”

“Yeah, it was,” Harry nodded, he felt his cheeks turning slightly pink. “I saw the game with Draco and Blaise—Draco’s father was invited to sit in the Top Box. The Weasleys were there too, though I don’t know how exactly. I didn’t get a chance to talk with Fred and George.”

“Ohh, I see. And there were really Veela there as the Bulgarian mascots?” Sirius asked, leaning forward a little.

Harry nodded, “Yeah, their dancing was nice, but it was hilarious watching most of the guys going wild over them! George told me that Fred and Ron were about to jump off the Top Box screaming for their attention.”

“Well, Veela can do that to you,” Remus said. “They’re seductress, you see. Their looks and dances are hypnotic to most men who act impulsively in order to get admiration and attention from the creatures. However, if they become angry, they can be quite vicious. I’ve taught the sixth years that. I remember I had to deal with many boys who were claiming they can seduce Veela or control themselves in front of them.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I wanted to invite a friend of mine who is half-Veela to give them a taste, however, she was in labor at the time.”

“I bet Dumbledore would have loved that,” Sirius grinned.

“He was actually quite amused with it,” Remus said, “however I did not realize how late she was in her pregnancy. But to the point, Ron and Fred’s reactions were normal in the presence of the Veela.”

“Oh, Harry please tell me Lucius Malfoy freaked out too!” Sirius said, grinning, “I need that in my head, please.”

“I don’t know,” Harry said honestly. “I was too busy looking at the Weasleys reacting. Well, most of the Weasleys.”

“George did not react, I am assuming,” Remus said.

Harry gasped, “How did you know?”

“He and Cedric confided in me,” Remus said. “They were both worried about coming out to their parents and asked me for advice.”

“What did you say?” Harry asked.

“There is no specific right time to come out. It’s scary, horribly terrifying at times, but what matters most is your comfort,” Remus said simply. “I was terrified telling James that I’m gay. It was worse than him realizing I’m a werewolf.”

“But in the end, your father was extremely supportive,” Sirius went on, “especially after when Remus and I started dating.”

Harry smiled and nodded. It was always a little comforting to hear more about his parents. “I don’t know if they told them yet, but I’m sure that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley will be perfectly okay with it.”

“How about you?” Sirius asked his eyes on Tom. “Does your father know?”

Tom stood a little taller, “Yes, he knows everything,” he said. “He was surprised at first, but in the end, he realized that Harry and I are inevitable.”

“How old even are you?” Sirius demanded. “Because you look too old for Harry.”

Remus frowned at that and nodded, “I didn’t want to say that at first, but yes. I’m sorry boys but, the age difference between you two seems a little much for my taste.”

“We’re teenagers!” Harry argued.

“No, you are,” Sirius said, “Tom is an adult. Honestly, it seems to me that you’re preying on Harry, Tom! The boy is only fourteen.”

“And we’ve known each other since he was seven,” Tom said calmly.

“And you were what? Thirteen already?”

“Sirius!”

Tom frowned, “I am only four years older than Harry, I do not see what the problem is, honestly.”

“The problem is that you are eighteen and he is only fourteen!” Sirius yelled. “Honestly can you be any stupider? The both of you? This is illegal.”

“Sirius!” Remus yelled again, but he was looking equally disturbed. “Harry,” he said gently, “we just want what is best for you. You’re too young, only fourteen. Perhaps being in a relationship now, especially with an age difference like this, is too soon.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Tom’s hand closing into a fist. He quickly put his hand on top of it and said, “We know that there’ll be difficulties, but we love each other. I don’t care that he’s four years older than me, that’s nothing. People dating others who are way older or younger than them all the time.”

“Yes but they’re not teenagers,” Sirius retorted.

“The point is that we only have four years apart. That’s not a lot in the grand scheme of things and he is not preying on me, Sirius. We waited until we both felt that it would be appropriate and that only happened recently. All we’ve done is hold hands and kissing and that’s all I ever want!” He looked at them innocently, moving his fingers so they intertwined with Tom’s. “Like Tom said, we’re inevitable. He’s part of my family, and he is going to stay that way.”

“Harry,” Sirius started to say but sighed. “We’ll talk about this later. Look, we didn’t come here to argue with you two.” Tom made a hum and Sirius glared at him, “We did not,” he insisted. “However you cannot ignore the fact that your ages are a little scary, and your relationship, in general, is suspicious. You’re away from each other for most of the year. How do you know that these feelings are even real?”

“They are,” Harry said, more to himself than Sirius. “They’re real.”

“Harry and I both know how awkward our relationship is, especially with it being mostly long-distance,” Tom said. “That is why we are taking it as slow as Harry wants. If he realizes that he cannot do this, I am perfectly fine with letting him go.”

Sirius relaxed a little at that, “As long as he has that option,” Sirius said.

The rest of the visit seemed to be smoother. Sirius asked Harry question after question about the World Cup, the Death Eaters only being barely mentioned as the focus was on the game. Tom insisted that they have tea outside as the weather held. Remus asked Tom about his studies and what he was doing now that school was over. Tom admitted that he was still researching, looking into Defense Against the Dark Arts as “Durmstrang taught me about the Dark Arts so I feel it is my responsibility to perfect our defenses against them.” Remus liked this answer a lot.

The two men left soon after that, both looking a little more comfortable with Harry’s living situation as they pulled him into hugs goodbye, and even shaking Tom’s hand. Harry and Tom watched them leave before Tom pulled Harry into a possessive kiss. “I am never letting you go,” he hissed in Parseltongue, and Harry melted under his touch.

The rest of the summer moved too fast, and Harry hated that he had to see Tom go again once more. They spent only three full days together before Tom retreated back to his office, only appearing during meals. Harry once again did his best to not feel alone during these moments, but he couldn’t stop the guilt or doubt from crawling in. However, they all dispersed whenever Tom held him and kissed him sweetly every night, whispering how much he loved Harry until they fell asleep.

On September first, Tom went with Harry to Platform nine and three quarters to see him off. It was a rainy day, and Harry’s trunk was filled with all of his new purchases, including a set of dress robes that the list requested for this year. Tom held Harry close and hugged him. “I don’t want to leave you,” Harry muttered. “I can’t stand being away for so long.”

“It won’t be long, just until Yule, my love,” Tom whispered. “Be my good boy until then, can you do that for me, Harry?”

Harry nodded but he still looked apprehensive to leave Tom. Tom kissed him once more and patted his shoulders. “Crouch will be there. He does not know you’re my Prince, but just know I’m there in spirit. And I will always be with you,” he kissed Harry’s scar.

Harry felt a sting of longing but pushed it down. He needed to be happy for Tom. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you, Harry,” Tom said easily. He helped Harry get his trunk into a compartment and stepped off. Harry’s last view of Tom was through the window. Their eyes met and Harry waved goodbye. Tom smiled and returned the wave before disappearing into the crowd.

Harry’s friends found him before the train started to move. Any sense of loneliness and longing disappeared the moment he saw them file into the compartment and took their usual places. Harry was in the corner of one side, facing Pansy as Blaise and Draco sat close next to him, and Theo and Daphne sitting next to Pansy. Daphne was already dressed in her school robes and looked extremely uncomfortable or nervous. She looked extremely different, her usual long blondish hair was now cut extremely short, stopping over her ears, and she held a bundle of robes in front of her like before, his eyes shifting at everyone.

The train started to pull away and Daphne took a breath, “Guys,” she said as the station disappeared from the window. “I—there’s something I want to tell you guys now before I lose the courage.” Theo’s hand was in hers. They smiled and Daphne looked at them with a strange conviction in her eyes. “I’m sorry about the last year or so. The truth is, I was feeling very uncomfortable with myself. Whenever I looked at my reflection, I felt like I was staring at someone who wasn’t me, you know? Or someone that I was just pretending to be. It hurt so much at times… you can’t really begin to imagine it. Seeing myself every day but hating what I saw. Last year was torture. If it wasn’t for Theo, I don’t know what I would have done.” Daphne took a breath and shook her head. “I don’t feel right,” she admitted. “The way I am now, I feel wrong—like there’s something wrong with my body.

“I’m not a girl. I know I look like one but that’s the problem. I don’t feel like a girl at all. I haven’t for a long time. At first, I thought it was because I was tomboyish, you know, but that didn’t feel right to me. I tried being more girly at times and that made me feel awful. It was really last year that it hit me. I felt uncomfortable with my body, how everyone is calling me. So one day I tried to dress like a boy, have Theo call me a boy, and—it all felt right. I borrowed Theo’s clothes and they just felt good on me. I started thinking differently, looking at myself differently, and over time it just felt normal to me—felt right. I’m sorry for lying to you guys for the last three years but, I want a fresh start. You are my friends, and I want you to know who I really am. I’m a boy. I’m not a girl, I’m a boy. I would like you guys to start referring to me like that. And I’m not Daphne... I’m Daphnis. Daphnis Greengrass, it’s uh nice to finally say that.”  Daphnis smiled and relaxed into his seat as he waited for everyone to respond.

Pansy cried immediately and pulled Daphnis into a hug. “Oh Daphne I’m so sorry—Daphnis I mean Daphnis—Oh I‘m so sorry! I never knew! And I said all those nasty things and tried to make you wear skirts! You must think I’m horrible!” Daphnis smiled, crying as well as he hugged Pansy. “It’s okay Pansy, you’re not horrible,” he said. “You didn’t know—nobody did. Only Theo. It’s fine, Pansy, it’s fine.”

“Daphnis,” Draco said, rolling the name on his lips. “Daphnis… okay,” he nodded. He looked at Theo, “Are you okay with this?”

Theo just grinned and wrapped an arm around Daphnis, “I like boys too, actually. And I have the sweetest boy as a boyfriend.”

Daphnis blushed at that but smiled. He looked around and played with his fingers awkwardly. “So… are you guys okay with this?” he asked.

“Of course!” Harry and Blaise said at the same time as Draco just nodded. They all got up and took turns hugging Daphnis. It was going to be a change, but Harry was determined not to make mistakes. He felt happy for Daphnis, really happy, and the smiles he and Theo sported as they sat next to each other and kissed made Harry smile as well. The six relaxed in their seats once more. It didn’t matter that the rain was falling heavily outside the train, as the six felt like they were basking in the last summer rays as the train made its way dutifully to Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

Chapter 48

Mad-Eye Moody

It was still raining when the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station. Harry felt sympathy for the poor first years who had to ride the fleet of small boats across the Black Lake to get to Hogwarts. He and his friends all packed into a carriage, Harry being pushed between Daphnis and Blaise as Crabbe and Goyle caught up with them. They looked like they were getting stronger, their childhood fat slimming or thickening, Harry didn’t know, but he couldn’t help but notice that their arms were getting big. Kind of like Krum’s.

Daphnis told Crabbe and Goyle about his pronouns and it took almost the whole ride to explain the basics to the two teens before they got it. “So you’re a dude now!” Goyle said as their carriage rolled to a stop.

“I—yes, if that’s how you understand, yes,” Daphnis said. “I’m a boy, and my name is Daphnis.”

“Hang on—this means you’re going to be in our room?” Goyle asked.

“I hope so, I have to talk with Professor Snape about this,” Daphnis said. “But until then—don’t just announce it to the world, okay? It’s both terrifying and comforting. Like I finally have this weight off of my chest, but I still need to tell those around me. Then there’s the idea of transitioning.”

“Transitioning?” Goyle asked.

“Hang on,” Crabbe said, “What’s going to happen with your boobs?”

“VINCENT!” Pansy screamed. “You do not just ask something like that! Are you insane?” She fumed. Daphnis’ face was completely red as his hands went to his chest. Theo instantly wrapped an arm around him and glared at Crabbe.

“You are going to stay away from him,” Theo hissed out.

“What? I was just asking!” Crabbe said, “What is going to happen? I mean because sh—he got them still… right?”

Pansy glared furiously at him while the others just glanced at each other awkwardly. Daphnis cleared his throat and stuttered, “I’m… I’m thinking of using a binder,” he said.

“What’s that?” Goyle asked. Harry wondered what that was too, but felt it was too awkward to ask.

Daphnis stood awkwardly and looked down at his body. “It’s a thing I wear to help fix my chest,” he said awkwardly. “I just started learning about them a couple of weeks ago. I’ve ordered one but… I haven’t tried it yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a bit scared to, Goyle,” Daphnis answered honestly. “My parents don’t know yet. They still think that I’m their girl. Besides you guys, only my sister knows. … as well as the Voice of the Dark, I guess.”

“How do you know that he knows?” Draco asked.

Daphnis gave an awkward smile, “It was him who suggested a binder in the first place, and helped me order one, actually.”

“Okay but—”

“Vincent!” Daphnis said, “Please, can we go inside? I don’t want to talk about this in front of everyone.”

“Oh… sorry,” Crabbe mumbled. They went inside of Hogwarts, slipping because of the rain and through the double doors on the right.

The Great hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-the-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the lights of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here. The group went to their normal spots at Slytherin Table, waving at the others they knew. Harry looked at the staff table and noticed an empty seat next to Professor Snape. He recognized the other teachers and figured that it was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who was missing.

“Where is the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?” Draco wondered out loud. “Father told me that it was that jumpy old Auror, Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody.”

“I guess he’s late,” Harry muttered. “Odd.”

“Or he’s being paranoid,” Blaise snickered. “Mother told me about him, he’s nutters.”

“But is effective at his job,” Draco countered. “He’s filled half of Azkaban, I reckon. He got my aunt and uncle.”

The conversation stopped when Professor McGonagall left, and Harry knew that the sorting was about to begin, so he just got comfortable and started to blank out as the first years were brought in along with the Sorting Hat. He thought about Tom, his smell, how he felt sleeping next to him, his heat that always caused Harry to blush. He knew about it, what they would do one day because of Blaise, and he fantasized about their first time, but it also scared him a little. While he hasn’t seen it in person, Harry certainly felt it in the morning, and it was no mistaking that Tom was “gifted” in that area. He couldn’t possibly imagine how it would even begin to fit. But he wanted it to fit. It was a soft needing want that started to grow ever since they moved into their new home. He wanted it but was afraid to practice for it. Afraid of even the idea, and then Tom basically ignored him all summer. Too busy planning and scheming ideas that he has yet to share with Harry. He knew that Tom will in time, but still, until then Harry couldn’t help but worry and seep in uncertainty.

Before Harry knew it, the sorting was over. He clapped along with the rest of the school as a clap of thunder shook the windows and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating their golden plates. Dumbledore stood up only to tell them to “tuck in” and food appeared.

Between food and the conversations around him, Harry’s thoughts didn’t have time to dwell on Tom as he laughed at the stories Blaise was sharing on his time in Italy with his family. “Dray, you have to come with me next summer!” Blaise smiled, “We can finally fix your skin.”

“What is wrong with my skin!?” Draco demanded, huffing as he crossed his arms.

“Well, no offense but you’re very pale,” Blaise chuckled. “And, the Italian breeze is a good place to wear a skirt,” he winked.

Draco sputtered, choking on his drink, and causing everyone around him to laugh. “No way, you actually wore it?” Theo grinned, “Daph and Pansy told me, but I didn’t believe it.”

“You should have been there, I’m sure Pansy would have a pretty skirt for you too,” Blaise grinned.

“No, I think I rather not,” Theo said, looking at Pansy as though she had just brandished a large knife. “Um, no offense Pansy.”

“Well I’m sorry you and Harry look too good in them—and I told you I’ll make you pants next time, Draco!” Pansy said.

“Why did you even make skirts in the first place you vile woman?” Draco demanded.

“They’re easiest to make,” Pansy said as an explanation. “So next time you complain, you can make your own clothes.”

“I rather buy them from a shop!”

When the pudding was done, Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

“So!” Dumbledore said, smiling around at all of them, “Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch’s office, if anybody would like to check it.”

The corners of Dumbledore’s mouth twitched. He continued, “As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.

“It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year. This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy—but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure to in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—”

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great hall banged open. A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled dark gray hair, then begun to walk up toward the teachers’ table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling, throwing the man’s face into sharp relief. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man’s ‘eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye. The man reached Dumbledore and reached out an equally scarred hand, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Harry couldn’t hear.

“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” Dumbledore said brightly into the silence. “Professor Moody.”

The man grunted and moved to the side of the room. No one clapped, too transfixed by Moody’s bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him. My babysitter, Harry thought bitterly. He already hated the man. Why did Tom even think he needed a babysitter? How was this man supposed to be a replacement for his Tom? Why couldn’t Tom impersonate Moody? Why can’t he have taught them? Properly this time, not like when they were in first year.

“As I was saying,” Dumbledore said, smiling at the sea of students before him, “we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

“YOU’RE JOKING!” Fred Weasley yelled loudly. The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody’s arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

“I am not joking, Mr. Weasley,” he said. “Some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.”

Draco leaned towards Harry and whispered, “It’s an international tournament held between Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbaton. Each has a champion, and they compete in three tasks. My grandfather told me about them. They were canceled because they were quite deadly.”

“Oh no,” Harry whispered. “And they thought it was a good idea to bring that back?”

“Father’s been working with the Ministry to ensure that the death toll reminds at zero,” Draco whispered.

Harry nodded and glanced up to see that Dumbledore was still going, so he allowed his mind to wander. Durmstrang was coming. Would he see Krum again? Did he still even go to school, let alone Durmstrang? He vaguely remembered Krum promising that they would see each other again. Would he still feel the same? His cheeks blazed as he remembered the kiss. Would he still be expecting more?

Did Harry want that?

He didn’t know. The Hall erupted in noise and Harry jumped back to focus on Dumbledore. “What did he say?”

“Only students of age will be allowed to put their names for consideration,” Blaise answered.

“Okay, and?” Harry shrugged. “Why are people angry?”

“It’s the Gryffindors,” Daphnis said, rolling his eyes.

“…The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime!”

The Slytherins stood to leave, and Harry couldn’t help but notice the Gryffindors complaining loudly about the age restriction. “I wonder how they’ll pick the champions,” Blaise said idly as they made their way down to the dungeons.

“Well, knowing the Gryffindors they’ll all enter in spades,” Pansy said. “I only hope those Weasley twins are smart enough to not do anything stupid.”

“Pansy! I didn’t know you’re concerned over Weasleys,” Daphnis teased.

“Shut up, they’re the only good ones,” Pansy snapped. “They’ve done the rituals after all. Them and that Diggory fellow.”

“I wouldn’t mind having Diggory as our champion,” Daphnis commented. “He’s decent and rather handsome.”

“He’s a good one,” Harry agreed, smiling. “He treats George well from their letters.”

“Wait—Weasley and Diggory are dating?” Pansy asked. Harry nodded, “Yes, but please keep it to yourselves. I’m not sure if they’re completely out yet. Or even told their parents.”

“Oh,” Draco said. He and Blaise shared a look, and he licked his lips nervously. Once inside the common room, the boys separated from Pansy as they went to the dormitories. Daphnis stopped and looked at them hesitantly.

“What’s the matter, Daph?” Theo asked.

Daphnis shuffled and rubbed his arms. “My bed and trunk won’t be in the boys’ dormitory,” he said.

Pansy looked at him for a moment, “Oh you’re right! You only told us, right?”

“Yeah… look, it’ll be fine,” he sighed. “It just feels weird, you know?”

“I think I do,” Pansy nodded. “But if you do move dormitories I’ll be stuck with Millicent! Oh by the dark no, Daphnis please don’t leave me!”

“I—I’m not sure,” Daphnis said. He sighed and shook his head. “I’ll talk with Professor Snape tomorrow morning. Come on Pansy.” Daphnis followed Pansy and slowly climbed the stairs to the girls’ dormitory. The boys stood for a moment before heading up the spiral staircase for their own dormitory. Inside were their beds and trunks. Harry wondered how it would be with another bed added.

“Theo, do you want Daphnis in here?” he asked as they changed.

“I mean, he is a boy, it only makes sense he sleeps in the boys’ dormitory,” Theo shrugged. “If needed, he can sleep with me.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward?” Draco asked, “Sleeping with someone?”

“We’ve been dating for more than a year, so not really,” Theo said. He looked towards Harry, “You get this right? You live with your boyfriend after all.”

“Yeah, we live together, and we slept in the same bed for most nights,” Harry said thoughtfully. He didn’t want to mention that it was the only time he and Tom spent together. “I mean it should be fine, the beds are more than big enough.”

With a sleepy grumble of agreeance, the boys all slipped into their own beds and Harry waved his wand to close the curtains like always. He stared up at the top of the canopy of his bed and frowned. It felt weird being alone in bed. Colder. He turned to his right and stared at the empty space next to him. He wondered if Tom was in bed yet. He usually stayed up in his office until midnight. Would he still rest or would he now work through the night now that he was home alone?

He sighed and got out of bed and moved to his trunk. He opened it and silently pulled out Salazar who gave an annoyed hiss. “Finally remembered?”

“Sorry, the feast went longer than I thought,” Harry replied. He carried the snake, which was now too long to hide in his pocket, into bed with him. “I’m a bit lonely, I miss Tom.”

“I do too, he’s better company,” Salazar said aloofly.

Harry rolled his eyes, “I know you love me,” he hissed. “Just sleep with me tonight. I’ll make sure to get you a special breakfast tomorrow.”

“I am a dangerous and poisonous snake! I am not a bedwarmer,” Salazar hissed out, seemingly puffing himself as he opened his mouth to show off his fangs.

“And I am telling you I want to sleep with my loving pet. Or else I’ll give the treats to Hedwig instead of you.”

“… fine.”

Harry smiled and closed the curtains once more. He placed Salazar where Tom usually slept and took off his glasses. The snake coiled itself on the pillow and relaxed, hissing about giant mice and small prey that he wants to chase. Harry watched the blurry animal for a moment before his eyes slowly fell, lulled by Salazar’s hissing.

The next morning, the storm has blown away, though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy; heavy clouds of pewter gray swirled overhead. Daphnis, Professor Snape, and Professor Dumbledore were not in the Hall for some reason when Harry and the others arrived. Pansy told the others that Daphnis muttered something about talking with Professor Snape before breakfast, and they figured that it needed Dumbledore as well.

They were halfway through breakfast when Daphnis finally entered, looking a little tired but exhilarated. He was wearing his uniform and was standing tall. He sat down next to Theo, kissing his cheek as he grinned. “It’s done!” he said, “I talked with Professor Snape, my bed and trunk are being moved.”

“That’s amazing!” Theo cheered. “How did it happen?”

“Well, Professor Snape didn’t believe me at first,” Daphnis said as Theo took his plate to fill it with food. “When I first told him, he scoffed at me, kept calling it a phase, and that I have to stop bothering him. It was honestly humiliating, but I kept at it. I told him as many times that I can think of that I’m really a boy. I even showed him my binder and told him things that I told you guys, but a little more. Professor Snape got annoyed and kept saying no, however, so I threatened to go to Dumbledore. He thought it was a trick, I guess, so he had the headmaster come in, thinking it might scare me. I admit it was a bit scary, but I told him what I told Professor Snape.”

“How did the old man respond?” Harry asked, looking up at the staff table suspiciously.

“He asked a couple of questions, and I answered them to the best of my ability. I told him I’m a boy. I know I look like a girl right now but I’m a boy. I knew I’m a boy for the last few years, and I’ve always felt off. He asked what was wrong with the girl’s dormitory and I told him nothing, it’s just that I don’t feel like I belong there. It was at that point that Professor Snape brought up the stairs.”

“What’s wrong with the stairs?” Harry asked.

“Have you ever tried getting into the girls’ dormitory?” Daphnis asked. The boys all shook their heads. “Well, there’s a spell on the stairs, you see, that won’t allow boys from climbing them. The stairs collapse into a slide and they fall. Professor Snape said that since it didn’t happen to me, I can’t be a boy.”

“That’s horrible,” Harry gasped.

“But it makes sense, I guess,” Blaise said thoughtfully. “I mean the school’s old, you know? I’m sure that with age it can’t really fully detect if a boy’s stuck in a girl’s body. Or uhh, is that how it’s described?”

“It’s how I feel, but I don’t know,” Daphnis said. “But funny enough, that’s what Dumbledore said too, in a way. ‘Hogwarts is old, full of old charms, some would say are antiquated. Perhaps the charms on the Slytherin girl’s dormitory stairs are a bit faded,’ he said. He then asked me again why I wanted to be in the boy’s dormitory, and I told him that it’s where I feel I’ll belong because I am a boy. He asked if I feel unsafe in the girls’ dormitory, I told him, no but because I’m a boy, I should be in the boys’ dormitory. In the end, he still seemed very confused but allowed that I switch dormitories! It’ll take a week to move beds around, but I got what I want.”

“That’s brilliant!” Theo said.

“So I got a week with you and then I’m stuck with Millicent?” Pansy asked. She huffed and crossed her arms, “Do you think the couches in the dormitory are safe to sleep in?”

Daphnis laughed and touched Pansy’s arm, “I’m sure it won’t be that bad, you can move your bed as far away from her as possible.”

“Or just put up a wall,” Blaise suggested, “a huge wall solely around her bed.”

“I guess I can do that,” Pansy said thoughtfully. “But fine. But Daphnis I swear if you become just as smelly as those other boys I swear I’ll drag you back and give you every single scented shampoo I own! And you have to let me make you some clothes.”

“I can live with that,” Daphnis grinned. He shook Pansy’s hand and smiled.

Professor Snape was oddly quiet when he handed them their schedules just five minutes later, and Harry quickly looked to see when he would first have Crouch, already dreading it. He saw that they didn’t have him till Thursday and felt that he could relax. He could avoid his babysitter for two days.

In the meantime, however, the Slytherins had to suffer a day mostly with Gryffindors. It started off well with Transfigurations with the Ravenclaws. Harry caught up with Terry Boot, one of the few Ravenclaws who was taking the journey into the Dark Arts. They talked in hushed tones about the next ritual, Mabon, which would happen near the end of September. After Transfigurations, Harry suffered through Care of Magical Creatures where the oaf Hagrid thought it was good for them to treat a creature called Blast-Ended Skrewts. Disgusting creatures, in Harry’s mind. They looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, horribly pale, and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads. Every now and again, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewts, and with a small phut, it would be propelled forward several inches. “Disgusting abominations that need to be killed with fire,” was how Draco described them, and Harry was quick to agree. They were supposed to feed the creatures because it was obvious that Hagrid did not know what they eat.

The Slytherins let theirs starved as they moved to a corner to talk, laughing at the Gryffindors who tried to feed theirs. After lunch, Harry, Blaise, Draco, and Pansy went up for double-Divination. Harry hated the class, he thought it was more useless than Care of Magical Creatures. The room always smelt like heavily scented candles, and it was too easy for Harry to let his mind wander. For some reason, Harry didn’t know or particularly cared why, they were given a needlessly complex chart of the planets and were asked to map. Harry was all too happy to leave when the bell rang.

Thursday came without incident. The Slytherins, in what seemed like a twisted tradition, had Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Gryffindors and Harry wasn’t looking forward to it. For one, he did not want to be near Barty Crouch Jr., his babysitter unknowingly assigned by Voldemort, and two, Ron Weasley has yet to act up and Harry knew that it was only a matter of time until he did something so… Gryffindorish.

As they walked in and settled into seats, Moody told them to put their books away. “Now according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in the sixth year. You’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore’s got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen? A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he’s about to do. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I’m talking.”

Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Apparently, Moody’s magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head.

“So… do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?”

Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Weasley’s and Granger’s. Moody pointed at Weasley.

“Er,” Weasley said tentatively, “my dad told me about one … It is called the Imperius Curse, or something.”

“Ah yes,” Moody said. “Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse. Perhaps this will show you why.”

Harry remembered that curse. It was the Curse he tried to cast when he was only a boy before he got his wand. Tom warned him not to cast it because he couldn’t do it. Like always, he was right. Moody hot heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, “Imperio!”

The spider leaped from Moody’s hand onto desks, freaking out the students near it. The students started laughing until Moody had the spider jump onto them. On Parvati’s hand to Crabbe’s head, then onto the top of Weasley’s head to Draco’s, where he screamed. “What should I have her do next?” Moody said, sounding too gleeful. “Jump out a window? … Drown herself?” He made the spider jump back into his hand. “Scores of witches and wizards have claimed that they only did You-Know-Who’s bidding under the influence of the Imperius Curse. But here’s the rub, how do we sort out the liars? Another. Another.”

He looked around the room, both of his eyes falling on Neville Longbottom. “Longbottom, eh?”

“There’s the C-Cruciatus Curse,” Longbottom said in a small but distinct voice.

Moody was looking very intently at Longbottom. “Correct! Correct! Come, come…” Moody brought Neville towards his table where the spiders waited. He took the same spider and placed it on the table. “The Torture Curse,” Moody told the class. “Crucio!” At once, the spider’s legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but Harry was sure that if it could, it would be screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently—

“Stop it!” Granger said shrilly. Harry looked around at her. She was looking at Neville instead of the spider, and Harry followed her gaze, seeing that Neville’s hands were clenched, his knuckles white, his eyes wide and horrified.

Moody raised his wand. The spider’s legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch. Moody scooped the spider and walked towards Granger. “Perhaps you can give us the last Unforgivable Curse, Miss Granger,” Moody muttered.

Granger swallowed, looking as if she was shaken. She shook her head. “No?” Moody questioned. He aimed his wand at the spider. “Avada Kedavra!”

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air—instantaneously the spider rolled over on its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Several of the students stifled cries; Weasley had thrown himself backward and almost toppled off his seat. Next to Harry, Draco looked extremely uncomfortable as he looked everywhere but the dead spider. He reached for Blaise’s hand.

“The Killing Curse,” Moody said. “Only one person has been known to survive it, and he’s sitting in this room.”

Harry felt his face redden as Moody’s eyes looked into his own. He could feel everyone else looking at him too. Harry stared at the blank blackboard as though fascinated by it, but not really seeing it at all. Harry didn’t know how to feel. He was taught about the Curses from Tom. His Master making sure that the boy knew everything about them, though he was far from ready to use them. He has seen the Killing Curse. Seen his master use it on a troll three years ago. But being confronted with it again in this context felt different. He knew better, understood better. He knew his parents, and now he could understand fully how they died. Moody continued to stare at Harry. He pulled out a flask and drank from it, his magical eye never leaving Harry.

Why are you staring at me? Look away, Harry thought though the eye never left. Harry looked down at the dead spider on Granger’s desk. Harry couldn’t help but wonder if he was strong enough. After all, it’s been years since he tried. He’d learned so much since then, grew so much. He became powerful. He welcomed Dark Magic into him and is learning to sense magic without a wand thanks to the Voice of the Dark. So why not? Why not have a hand at the Unforgivable Curses? Besides, even if it makes Tom angry at him, Harry already has a perfect practice dummy in mind.

Chapter Text

Chapter 49

Mabon

Harry laid down in his bed, breathing slowly as he reached out. He was looking for the prickles, the small pulls from everywhere that he felt only once before. He could feel the magic within him. It was a vast powder, a wellspring that he could pull from easily. But that was not what he wanted or what the Voice was teaching him to do. It was faint in his dormitory. Small tingles brushed against his fingers before going away. He focused longing for the tug. He breathed slowly and felt the prickles again. It was like small invisible strings all drawn out and intertwining in a complex web.

One tugged at his finger stronger than the rest. Harry followed it only to feel other lines pulling at him as well, all of those lines twisting around each other. He did his best to follow the first line. The more he traveled, the stronger the line felt, becoming almost thicker until it turned into a tendril that stuck out from a large pool of magic. It felt wholly familiar and Harry was shocked to suddenly smell a sweet scent. Daphnis. Somehow, Harry followed the lines to Daphnis who was sleeping on the other side of the dormitory. He felt another pull and followed the line, moving away from Daphnis and towards another large pool of magic. Theo, he thought as the sweet scent turned into the smell of old books. And yet there were more lines, more connections, and Harry took his time to follow them, his forehead sweating in concentration. From Theo, he followed a musky scent to Crabbe and Goyle, and then to a deep cinnamon spiciness that surrounded him that was entirely Blaise before stopping on Draco, the Malfoy heir smelling a mixture of rosemary and mahogany. Still, there were more lines connecting to him and even out of the dormitory. The ones that led out were faint, so much so that Harry could barely follow them. But he did. His brow furrowed in concentration as he moved along the sprawling web of lines out of his own dormitory and down the stairs. He could feel the slight breeze in the staircase as he moved down until he reached what he was sure was the common room. The hottest lines pulled Harry directly to the fireplace. Above which was a line that felt like home. He followed it to Salazar who was resting on his heating rock like always. And even still, the lines continued, but Harry could not follow. He went back to the dormitory and felt the lines that led to his friends. Lumos he thought and suddenly the room was filled with light and shrieking boys.

“What the hell?” Draco demanded. “Who turned on the lights?”

“What is going on!?” Daphnis screamed.

Harry jolted and threw open his bed curtains. Hovering over each bed was a shimmering orb of light, not even bigger than a galleon but still shining brightly to wake his friends up. They lasted only a second more before disappearing, plunging them into darkness.

“Harry, was that you?” Blaise asked.

“Sorry,” Harry said sheepishly.

“By the Dark, next time give us a warning, please,” Blaise sighed, sounding tired and exasperated. Harry nodded and said “sorry” once more.

“How did you even do that?” Theo asked.

“I… followed the lines,” Harry said, trying to keep it as simple as possible. “It’s what the Voice is teaching me.” The others just grumbled and went back to sleep. Theo stared at Harry for a moment before getting back to his own bed. Even though he was embarrassed, Harry went into his bed and smiled. He felt Salazar. That was the furthest he reached yet.

Over the next couple of weeks, their lessons were becoming more difficult and demanding than ever before, particularly Moody’s Defense Against the Dark Arts. To their surprise, Professor Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.

“But—but you said it’s illegal Professor,” Granger said uncertainly as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. “You said—to use it against another human was—”

“Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like,” Moody said, his magical eye swiveling onto Granger and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. “If you’d rather learn the hard way—when someone’s putting it on you so they can control you completely—fine by me. You’re excused. Off you go.”

He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. Granger went very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave. Harry rolled his eyes and snickered with Draco.

Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. He did the Gryffindors first much to the Slytherin’s amusement and watched as his classmates did the most extraordinary things under the influence. Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem. Brown imitated a squirrel. Longbottom performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. Weasley was made to ballet, twirling around as if he wore a tutu. Draco laughed loudly at that and told Harry that he would never forget it. None of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it.

“Potter,” Moody growled, “you’re next.”

Harry moved forward into the middle of the classroom. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, “Imperio!”

It was the most wonderful feeling. Harry felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in his head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. He stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching him.

And then he heard Mad-Eye Moody’s voice, echoing in some distant chamber of his empty brain: Jump onto the desk. … jump onto the desk…

Harry looked as though he was about to bend his knees when two other voices speak up in the back of his mind. One, sounding like his own, asked Why, though? While another sounding deeply familiar like Tom only laughed.

“Really? We both know you only barely take orders from me.”

Jump onto the desk.

It’s a stupid thing to do, really, said the voice that sounded like his own while Tom’s only laugh.

Jump onto the desk!

No, I don’t think I will, thanks, the other voice said, a little more firmly.

Jump! NOW!

Tom’s laugh filled his mind. Harry did nothing, his legs feeling painful though as he firmly pressed them against the ground. He felt the empty, echoing feeling in his head disappear. He remembered exactly what was happening.

“Look at that, you lot … Potter fought it! He fought it, and he damn beat it! We’ll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention—watch his eyes, that's where you see it—very good, Potter, very good indeed! They’ll have trouble controlling you!”

Harry did his best to not glare at Professor Moody as he returned to his friends. He couldn’t help but wonder what exactly Barty Crouch was playing at with this lesson, as well as why Tom’s voice was in his head. He thought about it, asking it to come back, but Tom did not reply. In the end, he figured that it must have been related to the Horcrux inside him. Maybe because of Tom’s soul, and because they both knew he was Tom’s, the Horcrux decided to protect what was his. Either way, Harry wanted to stay far away from Crouch.

Their workload seemed to be increasing steadily from all of their classes. Professor Snape simply said that it was for O.W.L.s which they would take next year when the Gryffindors complained. Before Harry knew it, September was almost gone, and Mabon was upon them.

The holiday lasted a week and, as Theo told Harry, was used to be celebrated by both Dark and Light Wizards as a time to prepare and celebrate the common of Fall. For the Dark Wizards taking the journey, this time is a time of reflection as the days start to become shorter. In private, the fourth years have to go into the woods by their ritual grounds and light their candles. There, they must sit and wait to be tested, according to Theo. “Tested? You mean like a battle?” Blaise asked.

“Or an essay?” Pansy suggested, looking worried.

Theo shook his head, “I don’t know,” he said. “That’s all the books ever say that we’ll be tested. Maybe that is why this ritual is called the Ritual of Wisdom.”

“Well, I’ll be going tonight,” Harry said, “Anyone else wants to come with me?”

“I will!” Pansy said excitedly. “I want to get it done, I have so much homework to do, and Draco’s clothes are being annoying!”

“You’re making him clothes?” Harry asked.

“Yeah because he didn’t appreciate my skirt,” Pansy said, giving the blond a glare. “But just like the idiot, the clothes are giving me trouble. They won’t blend into the proper shades of color I want.”

“Wish I can help,” Harry said, giving Pansy a smile. “Shall we go after dinner then?”

“Let’s, it’ll be a date,” she teased.

So after dinner, Harry and Pansy prepared to undergo their ritual. It was a cloudless night and they fastened their black robes before meeting in the common room. Pansy flashed Harry a grin and took his arm as she held her nose up high, “I am going on a lovely date with the Great Harry Potter as we undergo the Ritual of Wisdom,” she said to the common room. Some of the younger years stared up at them before turning to themselves as the older years rolled their eyes. Pansy started laughing and pulled Harry along.

“What was that?” Harry asked as they stepped out of the Slytherin’s shack in the Forbidden Forest.

“Huh? Oh nothing,” Pansy said, although it didn’t look much. They walked into the empty ritual ground and stopped. Pansy looked over her head then back at Harry. “Did I embarrass you?” she asked, looking a little nervous.

“No, but it caught me off guard,” Harry said. “Is anything the matter, Pansy?”

Pansy actually frowned. She looked at her robes and played with the hem of her sleeves. “Do you ever feel left out?” she asked before scoffing. “Of course you don’t, you’re practically involved in everything, aren’t you? Whether you want it or not.”

“I—I wouldn’t call it that,” Harry said. He was deeply troubled by Pansy’s attitude; he never saw her look so down. “Do you feel left out, Pansy?”

“Sometimes, yeah,” she said. “It just seems like everyone is moving on and together without me. Daphnis and Theo, you and the Dark Lord, Blaise and Draco, hell if I didn’t know better, I would reckon that even Crabbe and Goyle have something going on between them. I feel like I’ve been reduced to just everyone’s female friend. You know? I’m the only girl in our friend group, even if we didn’t realize it until this year, and by the looks of things, I’m the only one who isn’t dating.”

Harry frowned. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I just don’t want to be forgotten,” Pansy said, still looking at her sleeves. “I don’t blame you guys, not at all. I’m happy for all of you, even if Draco and Blaise aren’t official yet. But, I feel like at times I have nothing to prove to our group. Theo knows almost everything as does Blaise, and Blaise makes everything sound so simple while doing it. Daphnis is finally coming out of his shell and being the best man he can be, Draco—well he’s just Draco, it’s impossible to forget him. And then there’s you. Where do we even begin with you? Husband to the Dark Lord, Parselmouth, saved the school twice in three years, you even cleared your godfather of his charges. All of you are just destined to do amazing things, I feel. And then there’s me. Boring, lumpy, lonely, useless Pansy.” She sighed and shook her head.

“Pansy, you’re not useless,” Harry said at once. “You’re not lumpy, lonely, and you’re definitely not boring. You’re amazing! You just started making clothes and already you can make things that I can’t even begin to dream of! Those skirts and pants are brilliant! And we’re only fourteen, Pansy. It’s a miracle honestly that we have boyfriends. To—The Dark Lord and I are a unique story, but I guess it makes sense with Theo and Daphnis for all they went through, and who knows how long it’ll take for Draco to actually build up the courage to ask Blaise out. The point is if you’re truly worried about that, then don’t. You have plenty of time and when the time is right, I know that the boy you meet will be totally amazed at how incredibly awesome you are. You’re one of my closest friends, Pansy, honestly. I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

They stopped and Harry heard sniffling. Pansy’s head was down but he was sure that she had tears down her face. “Potter,” she sobbed, “I hate how you’re so good with words.”

“I’m just speaking the truth, Pansy,” Harry said softly, “you’re amazing.”

Pansy sniffled and wiped her face with her sleeve. “Cheers,” she said. She took a breath and sighed, “Oh-okay, enough with the emotions, eh? You don’t want to make a girl cry on her date.”

“Got it,” Harry chuckled. “Let’s set up then.” Harry and Pansy took out their wands and together drew two ritual circles. They helped each other place the candles then Harry told Pansy to wait for him to light them. He closed his eyes and reached out. He didn’t know why but it was easier on the grounds to feel the strings tug at his fingers. He felt the strings that led to the candles and snapped his fingers. The wicks all lit and Harry grinned.

“When did you learn that?” Pansy asked, looking amazed.

“Just a little trick I’m working on,” Harry shrugged. They both stepped into their circles. The moment Harry sat down; it was as though he was shut off from the world. Darkness enveloped him until he could only see his circle, the candles’ flames barely moving around them. He didn’t feel fear, however. He just took a breath and focused on staying calm. The darkness around him wavered before splitting open slightly. He could only see the forest in front of him, but most of his vision was taken by a man.

He looked strangely normal height, a little taller than Harry. He had a tall, slim frame finely boned hands and face, thick brown hair, pale skin scattered with freckles, and large brown eyes behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. His attire made Harry think for a moment that he was a wizard. He had a dark brown overcoat over a buttoned shirt and loose tie. "Who are you?"

The man looked down at Harry, “Wisdom,” he said shortly. He had a strange accent. “And that is a strange thing to ask of me, Harry Potter?”

“You know me?”

“Of course I do, my brother is plagued by you and my sister only watches you for entertainment,” Wisdom said. Harry looked confused but he didn’t explain further. “Strange, though, isn’t it? That people are obsessed with you.”

“What is the trial?” Harry asked. “This is the Ritual of Wisdom, so what is it that I need to do?”

“Big question,” Wisdom said, “You want big answers or little ones? What does Harry Potter have to do? Honestly, there’s loads that you can do and loads that you cannot. But that doesn’t matter—what matters is that you have choices. That the thing with humans, choices, makes you lot so much more unpredictable.”

“I’m sorry?” Harry said. He was completely confused. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Of course you don’t, you haven’t thought about it, have you?” Wisdom asked. “What does Harry Potter have to do? Well, here’s another question I have for you, Harry. Who even am I?”

Harry blinked and frowned, “You’re Wisdom,” he said.

“Am I? How do you know?”

“Because that’s how you introduced yourself,” Harry said. He thought for a moment and frowned when he remembered something that happened similar during his first Samhain, “Am I supposed to see you, or are you visiting me because of Death?” he asked.

Wisdom gave a huge smile, “The first good question I heard today,” he said. “Look at you, being so inquisitive. If you want to know, this is supposed to be a time of self-reflection according to you wizards. Some would talk to me directly but that happens less and less. The last time that happened was… oh what was it, fifty years ago? Give or take, I’m not exactly sure. Shame, really, I really love you humans.”

“So you are visiting me because of Death,” Harry said. “But why? It’s been three years since I’ve seen him, and I’m not supposed to see him until Samhain.”

“Human curiosity,” Wisdom said. “I don’t need any other reason.”

“So, how are you supposed to help me reflect on myself?” Harry asked, “Or are you just a distraction?”

Wisdom shrugged, “That’s up to you,” he said. “Though I have a question on that regard. What is it you want Harry? Truly. You have all this fantasticness inside you by just being you—so what do you want to do with it all? What do you want to be? How do you want to live like Harry?”

“How do I want to live like me?” Harry repeated. “What?”

“Exactly! Look at you, you’re a human!” Wisdom said excitedly. “You have all this potential, so what do you want to do with it?”

“Be with Tom,” Harry said immediately.

“Really?” Wisdom asked, frowning slightly. “Is that all?”

“I—yes,” Harry said, sounding uncertain. He thought of Tom, of how he kept going to the study instead of spending time with him. How he was as Voldemort. How he made him feel alone. “I love Tom, I want to be with him.”

“But there has to be something else, eh? Some other goal or aspiration that is not tied into that little Lord,” Wisdom said.

Harry opened his mouth several times before frowning, “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t know if I have one outside of Tom.”

“Oh dear, well that’s a bit troubling,” Wisdom said. “But now you know you don’t know, eh? That’s a good step. So, what is it then that you want?”

Harry started to feel overwhelmed. How would figuring out what he wanted with his life at this moment tie into wisdom? He didn’t even know. He thought he did, helping Tom was a major source of his motivation. Learning the Dark Arts to help Tom. They share their dreams, Harry’s aspirations were Tom’s, but now they suddenly aren’t? If not, then what was left?

But was that a bad thing? Was it terrible that he didn’t know what he wanted with his life at his age? He was only fourteen, after all, he didn’t really think about his whole life. When he did there was always him with Tom and his friends. Nothing else mattered. He looked up at Wisdom to see that he was still waiting. “I don’t know,” Harry said slowly, “but that’s okay. I’m only fourteen. … A lot of things happened in my life, and I haven’t had a chance to sit down and think about it actually. But I have time, I’m still young, you know? I don’t think anyone is expecting me to know what I want with my life. I know that I share dreams with Tom, and I want to help him in every way I can, and honestly, that’s enough for me for now.”

Wisdom’s smile grew. He stood tall and stretched, “Well, that’s definitely a good start, eh? I think my work is done here.”

“You did something?” Harry questioned. Wisdom just winked at Harry and gave a sweeping bow.

“Say hello to my brother for me, won’t you?” Wisdom asked and the man disappeared.

The darkness around Harry disappeared along with the man and he was suddenly aware of Pansy sitting next to him, smiling more confident than ever. “Finally you’re done,” she said. “You took your time.”

Harry looked around, frowning, “You didn’t see the man?” he asked.

“What man? You were just sitting there like a statue, Harry,” Pansy said. “Come on, let’s go back. I can use a shower.”

Harry nodded and stood up. He looked down at their candles to see that they were all burned low. How long was he sitting there? He collected the stubs and erased both circles with his wand as Pansy waited. Then the two turned and walked away, Pansy yawning and complaining about a shower but looking confident in herself.

Their schedules quickly became filled with coursework once more. None of them talked about what they experienced in Mabon, and before Harry even knew it October was almost gone as well. When they arrived at the entrance hall, they found themselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase. Blaise, the tallest of them all, stood on tiptoe to see over the heads in front of them and read the sign aloud.

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O’CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30^TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END AN HOUR EARLY. STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST.

“That’s only a week away!” Daphnis said, his eyes gleaming. “I can’t wait to see who our champion will be.”

“We’ll find out at the end of the month, I guess,” Draco shrugged.

“I just hope I get to have a quiet year for once,” Harry sighed. “And away from Weasley.” His eyes fell on Ron Weasley who was standing by Granger and Longbottom. He heard Ron complaining about Cedric after Earnie Macmillan of Hufflepuff ran away from them. Harry shook his head and felt sorry for Cedric and George.

The next week saw the castle undergo an extra-through cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking and Filch was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics. When Friday afternoon finally came, the heads of houses lined the students up to wait outside for the other two schools.

They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. “Do you think this will affect Samhain?” Harry whispered to his friends, “Like last year?”

“I hope not,” Blaise answered. “This one is really important, and I want to do some things with Dray that night too.”

“Yeah,” Draco nodded, his cheeks turning red. From blushing or the cold, Harry wasn’t sure. However, the two shared a smile and Draco stepped closer to Blaise. Harry turned to see Theo with his arm around Daphnis, both looking up at the sky. Daphnis gasped and pointed, “There!” he said.

Something large, much larger than a broomstick—or even a hundred broomsticks—was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time. It was a gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

“Beauxbatons,” Draco muttered.

“How can you know?” Harry asked as they watched the carriage come in for a landing, stopping right in front of them.

“I can just tell,” Draco shrugged. The door to the carriage opened and a boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then Harry saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage—a shoe the size of a child’s sled—followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman he had ever seen in his life. “Oh my lord,” Draco whispered, “She’s a giant.”

“I only hope she’s smarter than Hagrid, eh?” Blaise snickered.

“Even Crabbe and Goyle are smarter than him, that’s not hard,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. Dumbledore stepped up to greet her, and Harry only caught her name as Madame Maxime before her students stepped off one by one, all wearing the same pale blue robes that looked too thin for this weather. Dumbledore invited them inside to warm up and the Hogwarts students were left alone to wait for Durmstrang.

“The lake!” Lee Jordon yelled five minutes later. “Look at the lake!”

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water—except that the surface was suddenly disrupted. Great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks—and then, out in the middle of the lake, a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the water, and then Harry saw the rigging.

“It’s a mast!” he said.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. It emerged entirely with a great sloshing noise, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship’s portholes. All of them, Harry noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle. But as they draw nearer, Harry saw that their bulk, for some of them, was due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

“Dumbledore!” he called heartily as he walked up the slope. “How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?”

“Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff,” Dumbledore replied.

When Karkaroff stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, they shook hands.

“Dear old Hogwarts,” he said, looking up at the castle and smiled. “How good it is to be here, how good. … Viktor, come along, into the warmth … you don’t mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold.”

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. Harry gasped as he recognized him immediately. The boy looked up and their eyes met. Harry couldn’t help but blush as the man smiled. He broke off from Karkaroff and walked towards the crowd of Hogwarts students. Whispering erupted in the crowd as the boy made a beeline for Harry, their eyes never leaving. His smile only grew, and Harry found that it was contagious as he smiled as well. The crowd parted hesitantly, as though everyone was hoping that the boy would be looking at them, but it was useless. He only had eyes for Harry.

Finally, he was standing in front of Harry, his hand held out for Harry’s. Harry took it and swallowed. “Hi Viktor,” he whispered.

The boy chuckled, “Hello Harry, I told you we would see each other so soon. Can you please come with me? I had you in my dreams, and now I want to see the castle you call home.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 50

Death’s Visit

“Viktor, what is the meaning of this?” Karkaroff demanded. Krum was still standing in front of Harry, smiling while Harry just stared back feeling conflicted.

Krum looked back at Karkaroff and said, “Sorry, Professor, I just wanted to say hello to someone I met this summer.” He looked back at Harry who just gave a shy smile. He could feel everyone staring at him and felt extremely uncomfortable with it. He always hated being the center of attention, and it seemed that every year fate found a way to make him it.

Harry felt Karkaroff’s eyes on him and did his best to meet the gaze with a neutral expression. “Hello, it is nice to meet you, Professor Karkaroff,” Harry said. “I’ll be happy to show you the castle Viktor if I’m allowed,” he glanced over towards Professor Snape and Dumbledore. Snape just stared at him unflinching while Dumbledore had a grandfatherly smile. He nodded and Harry took that as his cue to leave. The whispering still continuing around Harry, he stepped out from the crowd of Hogwarts students and led Viktor away. He did his best to ignore the eyes staring at him, however as they passed by the Gryffindors, Harry couldn’t resist looking at them. Ron Weasley was staring straight at him, his face red with intense jealousy as Granger stood next to him, rolling her eyes at something that Weasley obviously said. “Honestly he’s just a Quidditch player,” Harry heard her whisper, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. That would defiantly set Weasley off.

They walked into the entrance hall and towards the Great Hall. The Hogwarts students all seemed to snap out of their daze as they entered behind, passing Harry and the Durmstrang students to their tables. “Where do you sit?” Viktor asked Harry. “Are you always so separated by different uniforms?”

“They’re Houses, and yeah,” Harry nodded. He watched the Beauxbatons students go to the Ravenclaw table. They were looking around the Great Hall with glum expressions on their faces. Three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads. “Honestly it’s not that cold here,” Harry muttered.

Viktor laughed and said, “This is actually very pleasant! You should see Durmstrang, we barely have fireplaces lit there.”

Harry shrugged, “Well I’ll still find a way to stay warm,” he said.

“Oh I’m sure you will,” Viktor grinned. “But for now, how about you show me where you sit.”

Harry nodded and led the Durmstrang students towards the Slytherin table. He moved towards his friends and sat in his spot. Pansy moved down to give Krum room as he sat next to Harry, the other students deciding to stick together at the end of the tables. The Durmstrang students pulled off their heavy furs and looked up at the starry black ceiling with expressions of interest. Draco leaned over at Harry and said, “Have you seen Weasley? He looks so jealous! If I knew better I would say he would have jinxed you if given the chance.”

“Who is this Weasley?” Viktor asked, immediately looking around the large room.

“No one of importance,” Harry shrugged. “He’s the youngest brother of a couple of my friends.” He looked at the table and immediately found Weasley. “Him, the lanky redhead. His brothers, Fred and George, are good friends of mine.” He looked down the table and pointed Fred and George out. “They’re good people.”

Viktor hummed and nodded. When all the students had entered the Great Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filling up the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore’s left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and most particularly—guests,” Dumbledore said, beaming around at the foreign students. “I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast,” Dumbledore said. “I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!”

The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them that Harry had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

“Ah! Bouillabaisse,” Draco said when he stopped a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding. “I haven’t had this since I was twelve.” He helped himself to that while Harry stuck with his creature comforts.

“Harry,” Viktor said next to him, “You should try this.” He gave Harry a bowl with what looked like a stew inside. “It is Kavarma,” Viktor explained. “Very delicious, it has pork and vegetables in it.” Harry shrugged and tried a bite and hummed.

“It’s actually good,” he said, “Thanks,” He took the bowl and started eating from it.

“I want to try,” Blaise said. Harry looked up and nodded. He offered his bowl and Blaise took his own spoon. He hummed and made a small noise, “Alright,” he muttered. “Still, I think I like this better,” he said as he took his spoon to shovel Bouillabaisse from Draco’s spot. He grinned and winked as Draco sputtered angrily.

Harry found that it was very easy to fall into a conversation with Viktor. He told him that he was the Seeker for his House team, and Viktor immediately latched on, the two spent most of the feast talking about the sports, favorite teams and plays, as well as their brooms. All the while, Viktor continued to offer dishes for Harry to try and Harry did the same. He laughed at Viktor’s jokes and smiled as he said, “I wish I can ride my broom, but the Quidditch tournament is canceled because of this.”

“I would love to see you ride your broom,” Viktor said, “And maybe you can ride mine as well. What model do you have?”

“Nimbus 2001,” Harry said.

“That’s a good broom,” Krum nodded. “Though I personally like the Firebolt. Faster speed and control.”

Harry gasped, “Oh my god, I need to try that out! Promise me you’ll let me ride it one day, will you? Did you bring it with you?”

Viktor chuckled, “Sadly I did not,” he said, “however I can show you tricks that you can use on your Nimbus.”

“I would love that!” Harry grinned, “Thank you Viktor!”

At some point, Ludo Bagman as well as Mr. Crouch arrived and sat at the staff table. When everyone was done eating, Dumbledore stood once more, and Harry felt a pleasant sort of tension as the hall was filled with excitement. “The moment has come,” Dumbledore said, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. “The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them. Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.” He paused as there was applause for Mr. Bagman. “Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament, and will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions’ efforts.”

At the mention of the word “champions”, the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, “The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch.”

Filch now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students. “The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman,” said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, “and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spread throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways. … their magical prowess—their daring—their powers of deduction—and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.”

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

“As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Tournament Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire.”

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. “Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champions must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,” Dumbledore said. “Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools.”

Draco scoffed and leaned towards Harry, “Of course it’ll be on Samhain,” he muttered. “I bet the old man did that deliberately to stop anyone from celebrating the correct holidays. Make us too tired from excitement tomorrow to do our needed rituals.”

Viktor cleared his throat and whispered, “Samhain? I did not know that there were Dark Wizards in Hogwarts.”

“I’ll tell you later, there are too many people here,” Harry whispered and Viktor nodded. They listened to Dumbledore continue on, going about how an Age Line will be placed so that those underaged would not be allowed to put their names in. Finally, he was done and the students were dismissed. “That reminds me, where are you sleeping?” Harry asked Viktor but his question was answered almost immediately as Professor Karkaroff was now level with the Slytherin Table and shouted, “Back to the ship, then! Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine for the kitchens?”

It was then that Karkaroff fully saw Harry. He froze and stared as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. Karkaroff’s eyes moved slowly up Harry’s face and fixed upon his scar. Viktor stood up and said, “No thank you, Professor, I want to spend some time with Harry before I sleep.”

Karkaroff still stared at Harry. He did not seem to want to move, so Harry stood up and left with his friends, Viktor following along. Once they were in the entrance hall, Harry pulled Viktor to the side down the stairs that led to the dungeon. “What was that about?” he asked.

“I do not know,” Viktor said, “However I have a question for you Harry. Are you a Dark Wizard too?”

“Yes,” Harry said, smiling, “You’re one too?”

“Of course I am,” Viktor said. “Proudly! All of my family follow the Dark Arts. You must be on your journey, no?”

“I am,” Harry said. “Tomorrow is important, I’m supposed to perform a ritual that’ll let me speak directly to Death. For what reason, I don’t know but it’s necessary.”

“I remember that one,” Viktor grinned. “But where do you do it? I thought that Hogwarts hated the Dark Arts.”

“We don’t teach it, but yeah,” Harry said, looking around apprehensively. “I don’t like speaking about it in the open. But the remaining Dark Wizards are in hiding. We have a ritual ground deep in the Forbidden Forest. To get there we have to tap our common room door twice to access a shack there.”

“Impressive, but it is a shame for the privacy,” Viktor said. “Would you mind if I come along tomorrow night? I would like to see it for myself, as well as do a small ritual of my own.”

“Sure, I don’t see the harm,” Harry shrugged. “After the feast, you can come with me, I’m sure my friends and I will go directly there.”

“Then it will be like a date,” Viktor chuckled. Harry’s cheeks blushed at that and he looked down, “Listen, Viktor,” he began but Viktor shook his head.

“Save it for tomorrow, we’re both tired I’m guessing and I want you fully alert for tomorrow night. May I hug you goodnight Harry?”

Harry felt his body stilled but still he said, “Yeah.” Viktor stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Harry. It felt weird. Being so close to Viktor Krum, being almost lovingly caressed by him. He couldn’t help but think of Tom. When was the last time he hugged Harry? When was the last time he just held Harry like so and be satisfied with it? A warm feeling spread in Harry’s heart and he felt himself relaxing under Viktor’s arms. “Harry,” Viktor whispered.

“Hmm?”

“If I become Durmstrang’s champion, will you root for me?” Viktor asked.

“Depends,” Harry muttered. “On who our champion is.”

Viktor chuckled. “Then I hope your champion is someone you despise so that I can show you how reliable I am.” They stood there for a moment more before Viktor had to step back, taking the warmth with him. “Good night Harry, I cannot begin to describe how happy I am to see you again.”

“Me too Viktor,” Harry said, and he felt like he truly meant it. He watched Viktor leave the castle before turning back and heading into the dungeons. Nobody questioned him on what he and Viktor talked about, and Harry thought that it would be best to write a letter to Tom. He wanted to include Viktor in the letter, but just the thought made his heart twist. They were just friends, right? Harry can make that boundary. And friends hugged each other all the time. Viktor was just excited to see him again, and if Harry was honest he was very excited to see the huge Seeker again too. He wanted to be friends with Viktor, even if he makes him blush. So with that in mind, Harry continued his letter, making sure to add about the strange look Professor Karkaroff gave him. He decided to send the letter in the morning and left it at that.

The next day was Saturday, a day when they would usually sleep in, however it seemed that all of Hogwarts woke early to see who was brave enough to put their names in the Goblet of Fire. Viktor sat with Harry that morning and told him that all of Durmstrang has placed their names early morning. Everyone seemed to be examining the Goblet of Fire, talking about it with excitement as they wondered who placed their names. “You know that Warrington’s put his name in the goblet,” Blaise said. “It would be nice having a Slytherin champion.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think the school would root for him,” Harry said sadly.

“The Hufflepuffs are all talking about Diggory,” Theo said, “I don’t think he’s put his name in yet.”

“I’m sure he will,” Harry said as he looked at the Hufflepuff table. Cedric Diggory was sitting tall, looking incredibly handsome as he did so. He was smiling brilliantly and it was easy for Harry to see why as Diggory was looking straight at his boyfriend, George Weasley. “I wonder if they’ll ever feel comfortable enough to be themselves in the open,” Harry commented.

“Who?”

“George and Cedric,” Harry said, looking at his friends. “I have never seen them acting like a couple out in the open.”

“I mean, it’s scary, isn’t it?” Draco asked, “especially when someone can tell your parents.”

“But Mrs. Weasley is one of the nicest people I know! Same with Mr. Weasley—I mean he’s a bit eccentric with his obsession with muggles but still, they wouldn’t hate them!” Harry argued.

“Harry,” Viktor said carefully, “sometimes it is not that easy. When I came out, my father accepted me proudly but my mother… well, she hated me. Called me nasty things that I wouldn’t think of repeating. She loved me as a boy, doted on me like all mothers do but still when I told her who I am, she kicked me out.”

“That’s horrible!” Harry said passionately, “Nobody should do that!”

“And yet people do, sadly,” Daphnis sighed. “That’s one of the reasons why I didn’t tell my parents anything. They… they still think that Theo and I are just friends and that I am a girl.”

“That’s wrong,” Harry said bitterly. “That’s all messed up.”

“But it’s the world we live in Harry,” Viktor lamented. Harry frowned and looked at the Gryffindor Table. George looked happy staring at Cedric however he couldn’t help but wonder if he truly is. Harry was happy with Tom. They loved each other, he knew that however, he didn’t know if they would ever walk down the street holding hands or even kiss in public.

“What about you, Viktor?” Harry asked. “Are you scared?”

“No, the worst that can happen is my mother, and she is behind me,” Viktor said. “When I find my boy, I would love him as openly as he wants, be it holding his hand or kissing him deeply in front of everyone.”

“I like that,” Harry admitted. “I hope I can be the same too.”

Viktor smiled at that and Harry returned it. He was the Dark Prince and his husband was the Dark Lord. Why should they fear what anyone says or does if they hold hands?

Harry spent the day in the common room. He wanted to spend some time with Viktor, however, the Durmstrang student told him that he had to prepare for both the Goblet of Fire and Samhain afterward. Harry went to the owlery after breakfast and sent his letter to Tom. The day passed quickly, Harry spent most of it feeling anxious both for who the Hogwarts champion will be as well as what he will see during his ritual that night.

Before Harry knew it, it was night, their feast was done, and it was time for the Goblet of Fire to choose the champions.

The noise in the Hall died instantly as soon as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored. Harry listened idly as Dumbledore explained where the champions will go once they were called. All he cared about was the names.

Suddenly, The flames inside the goblet turned red. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it—the whole room gasped. The fire turned back to blue.

Dumbledore caught it and read, “The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum!”

Harry cheered and smiled up at Viktor who gave him a side hug. “Congratulations!” Harry beamed. Viktor just winked at him and got up, walking down the length of the Great Hall and into a side chamber. The clapping died down. Now everyone’s attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it. “The champion for Beauxbatons,” Dumbledore said, “is Fleur Delacour!”

A pretty girl with long slivery-blond hair stood up. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle as many boys’ eyes followed her as she walked pass them. She too went into the side chamber and silence filled the room again. The Hogwarts champion was next…

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip, Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

“The Hogwarts champion,” he called, “is Cedric Diggory!”

“YES!” Came out George’s scream over the uproar from the Hufflepuff table. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teacher’s table. It took a long time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.

“Excellent!” he called out happily. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champions on, you will contribute in a very real way as you give them courage, vigor, and undying support!” Dumbledore went on for a few more minutes but Harry tuned him out. He was too busy being elated for both Cedric and Viktor. He leaned over to Draco and Blaise and said, “At least it’s not a Gryffindor!”

“At least it’s a proper Dark Wizard,” Draco grinned back. As they stood up to leave, Harry told them that he would wait for Viktor, and they would meet them on the grounds. The Hufflepuffs did not seem to want to leave at all, still cheering for Cedric.

In the entrance hall, Harry saw George and immediately went to sit next to them. As he did so, a group of girls walked by. “Diggory is so handsome of course he’ll be the champion!”

“I wonder if he’s dating anyone? I know he and Cho are friends.”

“Oh my god, we should definitely try to date him! Imagine that: having Cedric Diggory as your boyfriend!”

“That is so great! I’m surprised he’s not dating anyone.”

“Perhaps it’s because he spends too much time with those Weasleys.”

“I mean, they’re cute too but they’re no Cedric.”

Harry heard a sigh and saw George looking at his hands uncertainly. Harry silently took it and smiled. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

George smiled and the two waited silently. Slowly, the Hufflepuffs started to leave and George again gave a sigh, “I’m not a good Gryffindor, am I?” he asked. “I mean, we’re supposed to be brave but Ced and I are still in the closet. I’m scared to even tell my mother.”

“You will come out at the right time,” Harry said soothingly. “And it’s not like you two are completely in the closet. Your friends know, right? As well as your friends at the clearing.”

Yeah, you’re right,” George nodded. “Still, it hurts having to listen to those girls say stuff like that and not fight back.”

“What would you do?” Harry asked.

“Kiss Cedric in front of everyone in the Great Hall and yell at them that he’s my bloody boyfriend,” George said. “And then I’ll use all the things Fred and I are making on those who try to steal him.”

Harry laughed, smiling brilliantly at his friend, “Well, there you go. You now know what you need to do, now you just need to have the courage.”

“That’s the hard part.”

“Spite?”

“Who am I spiteful to?”

“Uhh, vengeance?”

“Again, who?”

“Well I don’t know, don’t you have a mortal enemy?” Harry asked.

“Not everyone is as dramatic as a Slytherin, Harry,” George said. “But I guess it would shut those girls up.”

“And it would be nice, right?” Harry said, winking at George. “Seeing their shocked faces when they learn that Hogwarts Champion Cedric Diggory belongs to you?” George’s cheeks blushed and Harry kept his smile.

“Yeah, it would,” George nodded. The door to the Great Hall opened once more, and the judges were walking out, the Champions behind them. “Ah, Harry Potter and George Weasley, shouldn’t you be back in your dorms?” Professor Dumbledore asked.

“We wanted to wait and tell Cedric congratulations,” George answered.

“I wanted to tell Viktor congratulations as well,” Harry said.

“I did not know that you were friends with the Durmstrang champion,” Dumbledore said, smiling. “It is good to see the bonds of friendship between schools already, isn’t it Karkaroff.”

“Yes,” Professor Karkaroff said tensely. “It is…”

“Well, have a good night then, boys,” Dumbledore chuckled before turning to the judges, “May I offer you all a nightcap?”

“No thank you Dumbledore,” Mr. Crouch said, “Too busy, too much to do.” The others accepted. They walked out and Harry and George stood up as soon as they saw the champions. “George!” Cedric grinned. He rushed to him and the two looked around discreetly. Delecour was already walking away while Viktor just watched. “Uh, hi…”

“He’s gay like us,” Harry sighed, “Kiss him already, Weasley.”

And George did, wrapping his arms tightly around the taller Hufflepuff. Cedric quickly took control of the kiss and Harry had to look away as his face quickly flushed. Viktor just chuckled. “I never knew you English boys were so passionate,” he commented. “Is this the Weasley you told me about?”

“My friend, yeah,” Harry nodded. “And, well obviously, Cedric’s his boyfriend. But the school doesn’t know fully, so please don’t tell anyone.”

“Why would I?” Viktor asked. “Anyway, I’m more interested to see these ritual grounds.”

“Then follow me,” Harry said. He gave George and Cedric one last glance. They were finished kissing and following them as well, George smiling confidently as he wore a new bruise on his neck. He led the small party down into the dungeons. Viktor looked around curiously as Cedric held onto George, kissing and sucking at his neck whenever he could. They made their way to the Slytherin dungeons and Harry allowed them to enter briefly. He closed the door behind him, tapped the doorknob twice, and opened to the ritual grounds. Viktor made a small sound of awe as the fall breeze brushed against his face from the inside. “Genius,” he muttered as they went through.

“Thanks, Harry,” Cedric said, grinning at him with a strange look in his eye. “George and I are going to do a ‘special’ ritual,” he said as he patted George’s butt. The Gryffindor blushed but chuckled, winking at Harry before the two disappeared in the forest.

Viktor chuckled and gave a weird smile. Harry found himself blushing as they walked further into the small clearing. “I am impressed, I thought the Dark Arts died here,” Viktor said.

“Mostly, but we keep it alive,” Harry said. “Viktor, would you wait for me? I have my ritual to perform.”

“Of course, I will be waiting here, and performing my own,” Viktor said. “Would you ask Dark Magic for my victory?”

“I’ll ask it to give you and Cedric an equal chance,” Harry said. He stuck his tongue out ruefully and Viktor chuckled. Turning, Harry walked into the woods until he was sure he was alone.

Preparing for the ritual was too easy. He just needed his circle and candles like always. So with his circle drawn and candles lit, Harry stood in his circle, and almost immediately, Darkness overtook him before he could even utter a chant. Harry waited, standing taller than he did when he was eleven on his first Samhain. “I know you’re there,” he said in the darkness.

In front of him, the blackness seemed to shimmer, as though a cloak moved in the wind. Harry waited but still no response. The darkness continued to shimmer. Harry looked around in his circle, but still saw and heard nothing. “This is the Ritual of Fear, isn’t it? Or are you going to toy with me like last time?” Harry demanded.

He heard a laugh, the voice sounding like it gargled on rocks. Harry squinted his eyes, trying to see anything through this veil. He could not even see the trees that surrounded him or even the sky above. “What do you want?” he demanded.

“A gift,” the rocky gargling voice chuckled, and at last Death appeared. Clothed in a black tattered robe that hid his face, the void in the hood faced Harry, barely seen in the darkness around them. “It has been too long, Harry. Do you hate me?”

Harry swallowed. He felt cold. All the warmth inside him was slowly leaking out as the cloaked man moved closer. “What—what do you mean?” he asked.

Death chuckled. “A gift, the one you gave to me so long ago… I am waiting Harry for another one. And I get so bored waiting.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry said. “I never gave you a gift.”

“But you did!” Death said. The shadows around them paled to a grey, and for the first time Death was clear in front of him. A hand Harry couldn’t see moved the cloak, and it opened. Harry was expecting a body, but instead, a boy stepped out. A seven-year-old boy that Harry did not think about in so long. He had a rat face with beady eyes that stared up at Harry. “Why are you so much older now?” Piers asked.

Harry swallowed and looked up at Death. “I do not regret him,” he said.

“This is not regret, this is a gift,” Death said. “It was interesting collecting his young soul, so far from his prime, and I expected more but you’ve never given them. Harry, when will you give me another gift?”

“You want me to kill someone,” Harry stated, not believing what he was hearing.

Death chuckled, “Exactly.”

“No! I won’t,” Harry said. “If I need to kill someone, it’ll because I want them dead, not to give you a gift.”

Death continued to chuckle. “And what is the difference?”

“Plenty,” Harry said. “I only killed Piers because he was going to assault me. I will never kill just for anything.”

“Not even for your parents?” Death asked. “You miss them, don’t you Harry?”

The cloak moved over Piers, and he disappeared, replaced by Mr. and Mrs. Potter who stared at Harry unblinking with a serene smile on their faces. Harry swallowed hard and couldn’t help but reach out for them. However, as his hand reached the edge of his circle, his fingers pressed against an invisible force that kept him contained. “I can give them to you, Harry. I can break my own rules and allow you to talk to them every day if you want. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Harry stared at his parents. He felt his heart begin to tremble slightly as he wanted to reach for them, his hand pushing against the invisible force. “Mum, Dad,” He whispered. He wanted them. He wanted to talk to them, to have more than one day.

Death chuckled. “Yes, it is so sad, isn’t it? Your parents were taken from you before you can even form memories. Only the scantest of feelings at the edges of your brain. Wouldn’t you want to have that connection that everyone else has? Have that relationship you crave… All you need is to give me a gift.”

Harry’s eyes were still on his parents. He thought of them in his home. Them sitting in his living room. Properly meeting Tom, the four of them talking together. He swallowed once more and felt that he was crying. “Mum,” he whimpered, feeling like a seven-year-old once more.

“That’s it, Harry, all you need is to give me a gift,” Death said. “Give me a gift and they will visit you whenever you want. But if you do not…” He swept his cloak and Harry’s parents disappeared. Harry screamed for them as he pounded on the invisible border. “You will only see them once a year,” Death continued.

“Bring them back!” Harry demanded.

“Give me a gift, you already have an idea who,” Death said. “That awful girl who has never really fit in. Every word she said was filled with venom. Why would you not gift her to me? After every time she insulted you, insulted your friends…”

“You mean Millicent?” Harry breathed.

“Yes…”

“I, I—no,” Harry said, frowning. “I can’t. Tom told me not to harm or kill her—”

“But does this Tom really care about your needs? Aren’t your parents worth more than having your lover upset at you?” Death asked. He extended a sleeve and Harry watched as a frail gray hand and arm emerged. “Just shake my hand, Harry, and you will have your parents once more.”

Harry’s eyes snapped at the hand. Was it so easy? Just kill Millicent and he would have his parents once more. He could see them whenever he want. Have them meet Tom, meet his friends, actually be a part of his life. Years of happiness, and all he had to pay was Millicent’s life.

But was it right?

Was it right to kill Millicent when she has not done anything to deserve it? She was horrible, yes. Terrible. A bully, but also she was the same age as himself. The same age as Blaise and Daphnis and Draco and Theo…

“But young Piers was your age as well,” Death said, his voice rattling in Harry’s mind. “So young and he was torn apart by your snakes…”

“I didn’t mean to,” Harry muttered. “That was an accident, a response. I—no, I’m not doing it,” Harry looked up at Death. “I’m not afraid to give you your gifts, but I’m not killing Millicent. She has done nothing to deserve it. She deserves many other things, but not death.”

Death’s hand was held for a moment before disappearing into the blackness of his sleeve. “Good,” Death said, though he looked disappointed. “Only fools and the desperate make a deal with me, boy. I long for a gift from you, however, I can be patient.” He floated away, becoming duller and duller until he disappeared completely, taking the darkness with him.

The forest appeared once more, and Harry was able to step out of his circle. He felt dizzy. He barely was able to clean up his circle and candles before stumbling back into the main area of the ritual grounds. His legs feeling like they would go at any moment, he looked around the clearing, his eyes blurring, before spotting Viktor. “Harry!” The Durmstrang champion saw him as well and quickly made his way to him. Viktor wrapped an arm around his shoulder to support him. “You were gone for an hour, where were you?”

“An hour?” Harry repeated. It didn’t feel that long.

“Indeed, most of your friends already left for the night,” Viktor nodded. “Are you okay? What did you see?”

“Death,” Harry said. “We talked and he gave me a deal. I refused.”

“Good, good,” Viktor muttered. “You shouldn’t accept offers from the dead, Harry.”

“I know,” Harry muttered. At that time, the bushes moved and Harry looked up to see Cedric and George entering the clearing. Their clothes and hair were a mess. George’s clothes looked extremely disheveled with leaves all over them, but they did not seem to care as they both sported huge grins. “Evening Harry,” George said, “Have a good night.”

“Goodnight George, Cedric,” Harry said. Cedric just nodded and his eyes met Viktor’s. His grin quickly turned into a hard competitive stare before he reached for his boyfriend and kissed him once more.

Harry yawned loudly, the events of the day catching up to him. “Come, we should go to bed,” Viktor said. “I think we both need the rest.”

Harry nodded and escorted Viktor out of the ritual grounds and to the four shacks. “So, what did you do?” Harry asked sleepily.

“I talked with my grandfather, as well as ask Dark Magic for help in all of my endeavors,” Viktor said. Harry nodded and yawned again, apologizing for it. He opened the Slytherin door and the two walked into the common room once more before Harry closed the door behind them and open it again to the dungeons.

“Do you need an escort?” Harry asked.

“Normally, I would be glad to have a beautiful boy show me the way, however, I want you to sleep,” Viktor said, “I will find my own way. Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight Viktor,” Harry said, smiling softly as his cheeks turned red. Remember, we’ll only be friends, he thought to himself, but he couldn’t fight against the blush in his cheeks or the quickening in his heart. He watched Viktor go until he couldn’t see him once more and sighed happily as he turned and went to his dormitory.

All the other boys were asleep when Harry stepped in and he quietly changed into his pajamas and got ready for bed. He was sleeping by the time he got into his bed, his mind and dreams swirling of Tom and Viktor.

Chapter Text

Chapter 51

A Beetle in Hogsmeade

Tom Riddle always considered himself to be an old-fashioned man. Growing up during World War Two in the orphanage, as well as Grindelwald’s War in the Wizarding World made Tom accept a set of morals that led him throughout his life. Especially his love life.

With Adrian, he was happy. They could not show their love openly, but they found their ways. Strong, impactful actions that showed their love even if it was veiled to others. They would secret letters to each other, develop nicknames that only they would know, and find places where they could be alone and share fleeting kisses. But that was so long ago, and Adrian is gone. If he would think about it, Tom supposed he still loved Adrian, as anyone would love a flame lost to time and death, but now he has a new love, a second chance at happiness that disease stole from him: his Harry.

Tom loved Harry. He loved the younger teen with all of his very being. But still, there were times where he felt his love wasn’t enough. Harry was so needy. He wanted his hand forever in Tom’s, which was fine. If Tom had his way he would secret his love away so only he could gaze upon Harry’s beauty. However, he knew that his love would hate being caged, wanting so to help with his plans or be with his friends.

Harry wanted so much attention. Dates, outings, public affection that Tom did not think possible when he was Harry’s age. Tom has lived a long life, and with his love, he shall live a longer one, but still, he could hardly even begin to imagine that there would be a day and age where he could kiss his love fully, or hold his hand proudly as they walk down the street, and one day the aisle.

He wanted to give Harry everything, but there was not enough time. In the years since he disappeared, his followers were scattered. Most claimed to have been coerced, and so they must be punished, while his loyal servants were sent to Azkaban. Every day Tom sent letters, pretending to be different people as he searched for news on his followers. He researched the current climate on the relations between the Ministry and Dark Creatures, something that has soured greatly due to recent anti-werewolf legislation drafted just last year by a woman named Dolores Umbridge. It was horrible that it happened, as it made it near impossible for werewolves to find jobs and were driving many to poverty, however, Tom saw an opportunity in this misery and hoped that the Dark would bring these poor souls to him.

He hated being away from his love, being locked away, and making Harry feel unloved, but it was necessary! True, he might have said some words that were unnecessary, however, he only has his purest intention. He wanted there to be no war when he rises in power. He wanted a swift end so that by the time Harry is sixteen they can explore the world as he promised. And Dark Lords must always keep their promises.

On Samhain, Tom found that his thoughts kept lingering in the empty house. He thought of his love. He would be visited by Death, and Tom was certain that Harry would have no problems with that old entity. No, Harry had nothing to fear from Death, Tom surmised. It is the living who offer the greater problem. He looked down at his desk, a glass of sherry in one hand as muggle jazz music filled the room. On his desk were plans for a shack, a simple one yet one that holds importance. It would be his connection to Hogwarts, his connection to his heart, to Harry. It would be difficult to break. First, he would have to make the connection between his home and Hogwarts, a usually impossible feat, but here on Samhain, when Dark Magic was stronger, perhaps he would have enough power.

Yes, the Dark Lord had enough power to do this at least. He stood up and left his office. He made his way downstairs to the basement and to the wooden door he told Harry to never go in. It opened at the touch of his hand, opening to stone stairs that led further down. In this room, the walls and floor were made of old stone with sconces on the walls to light it. The fire burned a deep red, each torch igniting as Tom walked past them until he reached the middle. A large ritual circle sat perfectly, as though etched into the floor in red. Tom stood in the center and waved his hand. Candles appeared, their wicks already lit. The Dark Lord closed his eyes and felt magic around him.

He let his heart lead the way. He felt himself leaving his manor, leaving Little Hangleton and heading north. Onward and onwards Tom followed the interconnecting webs of magic, soaring through the air at incredible speed. It was too easy for him to sense the magic where he stood. He could feel his heart strong in Scotland and continued to head north until, at last, he was stopped by a barrier. But that did not stop Tom. He instead grinned as he knew he was at Hogwarts, the castle so filled with magic it was practically on fire. He used the magic of the barrier to travel it, examining each piece carefully as he searched for the weakest point. The castle had so many ancient wards and barriers. Anti-Disapparition Jinx, unplottable, A Protection Spell against the Dark Arts, all stacked layer upon layer. But Tom knew that there must be a weak link with ancient spells, and he shall find it eventually. So he searched methodically for the next hour, moving around until, at the very top, he found the weak link. It felt like a small dip, a bent in the shields but it was enough. Tom focused on that one spot, and he commanded Dark Magic to channel through him. He could shatter it, blast a hole huge enough to get what he needed now, but Tom knew that as enticing that idea was, it would inform Dumbledore immediately. So he needed to be patient. He needed to take the barrier away bit by bit, plucking shards of the magic away so that no alarms would be set off.

He weaved the Dark Magic into a sharp pick and struck purposefully and gently. The magic fell against the dent of the barrier and in the center, Tom felt a hole appear. The hole was barely a milliliter, but it was enough for him to feel the roar of magic underneath, for him to be bathed in the magic of the castle, and inside it the sweet embrace of his love. He could not reach him yet, the barrier was still too strong and the breech too small, but it was a start. He channeled his magic into the small hole and cursed everything it touched. Over time, the barrier will disintegrate shard by shard, until at last he will be able to make the connection between his home and Hogwarts and he will have his boy in his arms. But that would take time, two months if he could plan it correctly.

But for now, with his work done, Tom opened his eyes and breathed deeply in his dungeon. He was exhausted and wanted to go to bed satisfied with his night’s events.

The next morning, Tom woke up to seeing Hedwig perched on his chair in the kitchen. “Hello you beautiful girl,” Tom said as he took the letter from her. “What has your master write about?” He sat down and opened the letter as house-elves served him breakfast. Hedwig jumped down to the table to pick at Tom’s plate. He petted her absentmindedly as he read Harry’s letter and hummed thoughtfully. He knew that Hogwarts would host the Triwizard Tournament, however, he was surprised to hear that Harry reunited with a friend from Durmstrang named Viktor Krum.

The name sounded familiar, but Tom wasn’t exactly sure why. What was more startling, however, was that Karkaroff was still at Durmstrang. He could not do a thing against his old follower while he was a student, the man was useful, but now that he has graduated, Tom was struggling to find a use for the man. I hope your friend isn’t close to his Headmaster, my love, he thought as he placed the letter down. Perhaps it was time to truly see where his loyalty lies.

His thoughts swirled around Karkaroff and his love throughout breakfast. He worried that the man would pose as some threat to Harry, especially since he is friends with one of Karkaroff’s students, this Viktor Krum. Why is he familiar? He sounded like a younger year, obviously, but still, Tom could not put a face to the name. When he finished eating, Tom stood up and Hedwig immediately fluttered into the air, landing on his shoulder. “You are rather impatient for a reply, aren’t you?” Tom asked, and Hedwig nipped at his ear in reply. “As if I would leave my Harry without one,” he grumbled and thanked that he was still in hiding. It would be mortifying if his followers hear that their Master’s owl nips his ear.

He went to the office and Hedwig glided to his desk to wait as he took parchment and quill to write his letter to Harry.

My Harry,

I’m happy to hear that you have a friend from Durmstrang. Viktor Krum, yes? How did you two meet? How old is he? I’m trying to remember him however no face comes to mind.

More importantly, I want you to stay away from Karkaroff. The man was my follower, but he has betrayed me. After our night on Samhain all those years ago, my followers went into hiding. Igor Karkaroff was captured and instead of being placed in Azkaban, he instead sold out my followers for his freedom. Who knows what he would do if he feels you might stand in the way of Durmstrang’s victory. He is not to be trusted, Harry. Remember that. As for Beauxbatons… I do not have any useful information on them.

More importantly, how are you, my love? Who is representing Hogwarts in the Triwizard Tournaments? My efforts are going well, and I believe I will be able to share them with you soon. Keep close to Crouch. I know that you are angry about him, but he is there for both of our protection. Our time to rise is coming up, my love, and I will make sure you shine beautifully.

I love you, Harry,

Tom

It was the most romantic he has ever been in a letter. It made Tom feel strange, however, he felt that this would sate Harry’s needs for a while until he can have his boy in his arms again. He folded and sealed the letter and gave it to Hedwig. The snowy white owl flew out as soon as Tom opened the window for her, and he watched her fly away from Riddle House, disappearing on the horizon.

Hogwarts has been buzzing with Triwizard excitement over the next few days. Hufflepuff students were now standing taller, taking any chance they could to talk about Cedric and how good he was as a person, a student, and a Hufflepuff. Every now and again Harry overheard girls talking about Cedric and asking him out, and he couldn’t help but scowl at them. Cedric was George’s boyfriend, and there was no way that these girls would ever separate them. Not that the school knew, the two were still closeted and Harry knew that it was their decision on when to come out.

It was Friday, and Harry was walking the grounds with Viktor as the Durmstrang champion told him about a wand weighing that they did. “There were this reporter here and photographer. The reporter, she looks very strange. Her purse looked like a crocodile, and she had teeth like one too.”

Harry chuckled, “Sounds like someone I never want to meet,” he grinned.

“She was rather irritating,” Viktor chuckled.

“Anyway, Viktor, I have a question,” Harry said. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to but tomorrow’s a Hogsmeade weekend, you see…”

“What does that mean?” Krum asked.

“There’s this town down the road that we can visit,” Harry said. “My friends are going, and I was thinking maybe you want to come with me? Because honestly, they most likely will split off to do their own things,” he shrugged.

Viktor nodded, “I understand,” he said. “It’s awkward being surrounded by couples.”

“Yeah,” Harry said softly, he licked his lips and said, “And uhh, well I would have hung out with Pansy, but I didn’t want her to get me in a skirt again, and I really wanted to spend some more time with you since it’s been a while and—”

Viktor’s chuckle stopped Harry’s rambles. “I would be honored Harry, it sounds like fun,” he smiled. “When will we leave?”

“Tomorrow after breakfast,” Harry said, “Is that alright?”

“Perfectly so,” Viktor grinned. “So what will we do in this Hogsmeade?” They started walking again towards the lake where the Durmstrang boat was anchored.

“There are shops,” Harry said. “Like Honeydukes, it’s this great candy shop, and there’s a Quidditch shop we can check out too, and a pub, and so much more, but I honestly just stick to those three.”

“Then it will be fun exploring more outside of that,” Viktor said. Harry nodded and looked towards the lake. “Did they tell you what the first task is yet?”

“No, only that it is on November Twenty-fourth and we are not supposed to know to test our courage in the face of the unknown or whatever that man said,” Krum said flippantly. Harry laughed and shook his head.

“That sounds like a load of bullshit,” he said.

Viktor laughed, “Harry! Where did you learn to talk like that?”

“Fred and George Weasley,” Harry grinned, “just don’t tell the others. They think I’m still innocent.” He winked and Viktor laughed harder. They reached the plank that led up to the ship and stopped.

“I’ll see you later Harry,” Viktor said. “May I hug you?”

Harry nodded and they embraced. Again Harry felt the same warm feeling that turned his cheeks red. He’s just a friend, he thought. “You know, you don’t need to ask me every time you want a hug,” Harry said, still holding Viktor. “My friends hug me unprompted all the time.”

“I know, but it is still good to ask for consent,” Viktor said, “I don’t want to accidentally hurt a beautiful boy like you.”

Harry felt his body heat up and he smiled, once again he wanted to tell him about Tom, but found that words died on his lips. Instead, he just took a step back and squeaked as his voice cracked, “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“I’ll see you,” Viktor chuckled, and they walked away.

Harry climbed up the hill back towards the castle. It was late afternoon with the sun still high when he reached the courtyard. Almost immediately, a woman in magenta robes was standing in front of him. Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles and her fingers that clutched a crocodile-skinned handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson. “Well hello,” she said, her eyes landing on Harry’s scar. “It is very interesting to meet you here, Harry Potter. I’m Rita Skeeter, writer for the Daily Prophet, I’ll assume you’re familiar with my work?” She extended her hand and grabbed Harry’s in a surprisingly strong grip.

“Uhh, I mean I read the Daily Prophet time from time,” Harry said.

“Perfect,” Skeeter said, “Well Harry, I’m here to cover this little tournament going on, just finished this delightful ceremony today all about wand weighing, had a picture of the champions, and was on my way to write the article when I just had a brilliant idea: Why not have the students’ thoughts and reactions to the Tournament?” She gave Harry a wide smile, one tooth glinting gold as she looked down at him. “And whose opinion is much more sought out than yours?”

“I’m sorry?” Harry said, confused. He tried to pull his hand away, but Skeeter’s grip tightened.

“I mean, with a student of your reputation, The Boy-Who-Lived, and not to mention winning such an illustrious award in service to the school at only twelve years old, your thoughts on the Triwizard Tournament will simply draw readers towards it by the hundreds!” Skeeter said. “So how about it Harry? Would you like to say a few words of thoughts on this?”

“Uhh…”

“Lovely,” Rita Skeeter said, and she pulled Harry with surprising strength across the courtyard and into the entrance hall, turning to the nearest door that was a small waiting room.

They both sat down on nearby chairs, and Skeeter finally let go of Harry’s arm. “You don’t mind, Harry, if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill,? It leaves me free to talk to you normally.”

“I didn’t say yes,” Harry said but he was ignored as Skeeter reached into her crocodile bag and drew out a long acid-green quill and a notepad that both immediately floated, the quill waiting to write. “So tell me, Harry, how does it feel having Cedric Dockery as your Champion? Are you happy for him, or do you wish that the Champion was a Slytherin?”

“I’m happy for Cedric Diggory,” Harry answered at once. “He’s a friend of mine.”

The quill began writing as Harry talked. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see its words.

Jealousy gleamed in the haunted green eyes of the achiever Harry Potter, who wishes his Hogwarts Champion well.

“I’m not jealous,” Harry said defensively.

“Just ignore the quill, Harry,” Skeeter said. “Do you feel that Cedric is worthy of being champion? I mean, after all, you are used to the attention of the adoring public, do you think that he is up for it?”

Harry frowned, “I mean he thought that he was brave and worthy enough to be our Champion, as did the Goblet of Fire so of course. I don’t really like that question.”

The quill once again wrote as Harry spoke. “If possible, do you see yourself as Champion, Harry?” Skeeter asked.

“No, it’s impossible.”

“Oh don’t say that,” Skeeter said, “Everybody loves a rebel, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes shifted again to the quill.

Young, rebellious, and trill-seeking, Harry Potter wished that it was him as Champion as he says that the current Champion might not be up to the pressure of fame.

“I never said any of that,” Harry frowned. “I’m sorry but this is getting a bit ridiculous.”

“It’s just some flavor text to spice up the article, Harry, never you mind. People never take that stuff seriously,” Skeeter said, widening her smile. “One last question, you say that you hope Diggory well, but it seems that you are friends with the Durmstrang champion as well. How does that work out?”

“Viktor and I are just friends,” Harry said, and he stood up quickly. “I’m sorry, Ms. Skeeter, but I need to go get ready for dinner. Good day.” He left the room and walked into the Great Hall, not caring that he was early as he went to his spot at the Slytherin table and sat down.

“You’re grumpy,” Blaise said when the others joined him. “What happened?”

“I was with Viktor and it all went fine but when I was on the way back, this reporter caught me and forced me to have a really bad interview,” Harry explained. “Her name was Rita Skeeter.”

“I know her,” Draco said, “She interviewed my father a couple of months ago about his donation to St. Mungo’s.”

“She’s horrible,” Harry said.

“Well, don’t take what she writes seriously,” Draco said. “That is if she involves you at all. I mean, it's supposed to be about the Tournament I’m guessing?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know,” Harry sighed. He shook his head and shrugged. “Anyway, Viktor and I are going to Hogsmeade tomorrow, so that’ll be fun.”

Blaise grinned and sang, “Harry and Viktor sitting in a tree.”

“It’s not like that!” Harry said quickly, “We’re just going as friends.”

Blaise continued to smile as he ruffled Harry’s hair and gave him a side hug, “You know I’m just messing,” he said. “Besides, we don’t want him to be jealous, eh? That would be scary.”

“Y-Yeah, it would be,” Harry said awkwardly. He cleared his throat and did his best to push down any uncertain feelings he had. Instead, he focused on what was in front of him, and what was going to happen. For some reason, he did not know why exactly, Skeeter’s ambush interview with him mulled in Harry’s mind. So when he was done eating, Harry got up suddenly and, without explaining, walked towards the Hufflepuff table. As he walked by, the Hufflepuffs looked at Harry oddly, but he didn’t care as he focused on Cedric. “Hey, Cedric,” he said when he was near.

Diggory turned in his seat and gave a handsome smile, “Harry! Have a seat, what’s up?” he asked, moving over slightly. Harry glanced over the sea of yellow robes and sat down briefly.

“Nothing, just a bad feeling I have,” Harry said, “Uh, you haven’t been interview by a woman named Rita Skeeter today, have you?”

“Y-Yeah, she was with us when Ollivander looked over our wands. Why?” Cedric asked.

“She pulled me into an interview as well, wanting to know a students’ opinion on the whole thing, and she said some rather cruel things,” Harry shrugged. “Talking about how I’m apparently jealous of you being the champion even though I’m still underaged, and how I’m attention-seeking.”

“I mean, you do tend to have stuff happen around you Harry since you got here, not that any of it was your fault from what I heard,” Cedric said sheepishly. “

“I know, but still um, I just thought I should tell you, you know, in case she tries to spin it that way,” Harry said.

“Yeah, no worries, just make sure to root for me instead of that Krum fellow, eh?” Cedric said, grinning widely, “Even if he’s the better Seeker out of the three of us!”

“I’ll show you everything he teaches me and call it fair,” Harry said.

“Good on you,” Cedric said, slapping Harry’s back. “And don’t worry about whatever that Skeeter woman writes, I’ll make sure everyone understands it’s nothing but lies.”

“Thanks, Cedric,” Harry said, smiling, “I just want a quiet year this year.”

“Not too quiet I hope, that would be boring,” Cedric chuckled.

Harry said goodbye and went back to his seat, feeling lighter and more relieved.

The next morning found Harry fiddling with his clothes as he sat for breakfast. It was the weekend and rather cool so he had on a form-fitting sweater and jeans underneath his black Hogwarts robes. He felt nervous. His stomach kept doing flips and it was hard for him to eat, only taking small bites out of toast and eggs as he kept glancing at Viktor.

The Bulgarian was dressed in red robes and fur that showed off his power. He stood tall and proud, and Harry couldn’t help but just stare at the older teen as he sat next to Harry seemingly oblivious to his nervousness. Across from them, Theo and Daphnis sat very close together, bent over a list Theo apparently made and discussing it. Harry couldn’t help but notice that Daphnis’ chest looked rather flatter today as well.

“What are you two even doing?” Pansy asked, groaning. “I thought you would be out of this stage by now.”

“What stage are you talking about Pansy?” Daphnis asked.

“The lovely-dovey ‘let's do everything together’ stage,” Pansy said, pulling up her face, “It’s gross!”

“Nah you’re just jealous,” Daphnis said, sticking out his tongue. “And if you have to know, we are talking about what fabrics to get you over by that shop since you are too busy knitting to actually go there yourself.”

“Look! This is the first time I actually get the dormitory to myself,” Pansy shot back, “You have no idea how hard it is to make clothes when all you hear is Millicent pretending she’s a muggle saw in her sleep—what are those things called Harry?”

“Chainsaw,” Harry said, surprised at how normal his voice sounded despite the bubbling anxiety and giddiness inside him.

“Yes, those,” Pansy nodded.

“How do you even know what those are, Pansy?” Theo asked.

“My cousin found one if you have to know,” Pansy said, as though she was talking about a strange and mythical invention.

“What are you making anyway, Pansy?” Harry asked.

“My dress,” Pansy said, puffing her chest with pride. “I’m having Daphnis and Theo get me some gold fabric that I need.”

“Why are you even making one?” Draco said, “Just buy one. We all did, right Harry?”

“Uhh—I mean it was on the list so yeah I guess,” Harry said awkwardly. “Anyway, Viktor, are you ready to go?” He looked up at his friend pleadingly. Krum looked at him for a moment before nodding.

“Da, I just finished eating,” he said.

The two stood up and Harry had a final glance at his friends before leaving with Viktor. It was a somewhat sunny day outside, though still cold. Harry looked up at the sky for a moment as they stepped onto the grounds of Hogwarts. “I’m sorry about that,” Harry said, “About my friends.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s no trouble,” Viktor chuckled. “But, do you know why we need a dress robe?”

“No,” Harry said honestly. “They were just part of the list this year.”

Viktor hummed and nodded, “I was told to bring my finest dress robes as well,” he said. “I guess we shall see the reason later, hmm?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. The two walked down the path to Hogsmeade, Harry filling the time by telling Viktor about the town and what they should see. “There’s this place called the shrieking shack, it’s supposedly haunted but that’s not true at all,” Harry said. “I’ll tell you the story when we get there.”

“Sounds fascinating,” Viktor said, “And then perhaps we will warm ourselves in that pub? What was it called again? The Three Broomsticks.”

“That’s it,” Harry said. They finally reached the small village and Harry immediately brought Viktor into Honeydukes with a promise, “They have every candy you would ever want!”

Viktor chuckled and said, “Are you sure? I think I know something sweet that they do not have, Harry.”

Harry’s cheeks turned rosy as they pressed against the larger than usual crowd of students filling the candy store. Viktor grabbed Harry’s hand so they do not lose each other. Harry brought him towards the chocolates and immediately pointed out his favorites. Viktor listened with a soft smile on his lips as Harry went on and on. He stopped suddenly and turned to Viktor, “Do you see any sweets you like?” he asked.

“A few,” Viktor said with a knowing smile. He squeezed Harry’s hand as he reached over with his free hand to a type of chocolate that Harry had never tried before. “This one is more bitter, but it is still good,” Viktor said. “Would you try it?”

“Yeah,” Harry breathed. They brought their candies and stepped out of the store.

“Should we go someplace private?” Viktor asked. Harry nodded and he pulled at Viktor’s hand, deciding to lead him towards the overlook that faced the Shrieking Shack. They leaned against the railing, still holding hands as they look out at the house.

“My godfather is why this place is haunted,” Harry said after a long moment of silence. “He, his husband, well boyfriend at the time, and my father. They would go there once a month, where they can be their true selves in a way.”

“It sounds peaceful,” Krum muttered.

“It was,” Harry said, looking at the old shack. “I’ve only been in there once. It’s awful inside, honestly, all torn up and broken furniture, but it was their kingdom in a way.”

“It must have been nice,” Viktor muttered, “having a private kingdom. Someplace where you can just run away from it all.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed. “Somewhere where you can just be yourself. I can just be Harry. Just Harry.”

“And I am just Viktor,” Viktor muttered. He gave Harry a sad but still rueful smile, “Fame is awful, isn’t it?”

“You have no idea,” Harry said. He brushed his hair away, revealing his scar to the air. He had so much riding on him, so many names to uphold to different people. The Boy Who Lived, the Heir of Slytherin, the Dark Prince… Tom’s Little Snake. So many titles and yet, Harry cannot think of a time where he was just Harry. Even before Tom saved him.

He felt Viktor shuffle closer and looked up at the Durmstrang student, a handsome pensive look on his face. Harry didn’t want to ruin whatever moment was building between them. His eyes never left the shack, gazing at it with an unwavering determination and longing that it pulled at Harry’s heart. He didn’t like how sad Viktor looked, it felt wrong in Harry’s opinion. He reached into his pocket and felt the bag of chocolate in his pocket. He pulled a small piece out and turned back to Viktor.

“Viktor,” he said softly but loudly. Krum snapped out of his thoughts and turned to Harry, who was holding up the piece of chocolate. “A trick my godfather taught me,” he said. “Have some.”

Viktor’s looked down at the chocolate and gave a soft laugh. He reached into his own pocket and pulled out his own small piece of chocolate. “A trick a beautiful boy taught me,” Viktor smirked.

Lost in the moment, Harry’s eyes flickered from the chocolate to Viktor’s eyes. Silently, they agreed and both leaned forward, their hands gripping each other’s harder as they opened their mouths and gently pushed the chocolate in each other’s mouths. Viktor’s fingers felt coarse against his lips, strong get gentle as he swiped his thumb against Harry’s lip. The chocolate was bitter, but it was still good. Harry closed his mouth and Viktor’s hand stayed on his chin and lips, swiping his thumb softly against them. At the same time, Harry felt the warmth of Viktor’s lips around his fingers, sucking them greedily as he took the chocolate. Harry too kept his thumb on Viktor’s lips. As he ate, Viktor’s tongue would dart out to lick him every now and again. They swallowed and Viktor stepped closer. “One more sweet,” he whispered. Their hands moved and Harry felt Viktor’s lips against his own.

He was kissing him. Viktor Krum was kissing Harry. It was incredible. The swirl of their chocolates mixed between their lips as they kissed, both pressing as strongly as the other. His heart raced, filled with exhilaration. Harry breathed Viktor’s name as they separated only to kiss more greedily.

Breathing heavy, blushing madly, and grinning widely, the two moved and stared at each other. Viktor’s eyes moved from Harry’s eyes upward and Harry thought he was staring at his scar. Viktor reached across and Harry felt his fingers caress his hair before pulling something out. “You have a beetle in your hair,” Viktor muttered.

For some reason, that was the most hilarious thing. Harry burst out laughing, Viktor following as the beetle flew away. The two continued to laugh, leaning against each other at the beetle. Viktor took Harry’s chin in his free hand once more and kissed him one last time. “Shall we go warm-up, my beautiful boy?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Harry smiled, and he walked back to the main road with Viktor, still holding his hand.

Chapter Text

Chapter 52

Denial and Dragons

“What have I done, sweet Jesus what have I done? Become a whore for his eyes, become a thief for some fun? What was I thinking kissing him? I have a boyfriend—I have Tom! Why didn’t I stop him? Why didn’t I stop myself? Draco what is wrong with me? We were there at the shack looking over—and something fell over me that must be it. Something, I don’t know what must have done something to us to make us kiss! Oh god, I should never have given him that chocolate, what the fuck was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking, that was the problem! Oh no, what will happen if Tom finds out—when Tom finds out—oh no we’re in so much trouble when Tom finds out! He’s going to kill Viktor; I don’t want him to kill Viktor but he’s going to kill Viktor and lock me away and I’ll never see anyone again and Tom is going to torture Viktor I’ve put that man to death it’s all my fault and—”

Pain stung Harry’s cheek. He fell back on his bed and looked up at Draco, shocked at what the Malfoy heir has done. “Are you done?” Draco asked coldly, his hand still held in the air.

“You slapped me!”

“You were getting hysteric.”

“You slapped me!” Harry shouted again.

Draco sighed and shook his head. “You needed to calm down,” he said. He moved to sit next to Harry and sighed. “Honestly, sounds like you and Krum got caught in the moment. Nothing to worry about.”

“But I wanted it,” Harry said. “And Viktor did too and I led him on,” Harry mourned. He put his head in his hands as rested his elbows on his knees. “I’m a whore.”

“Harry, whores do much more than kissing, you’re not a whore,” Draco sighed. “How do you even know about what a whore is?”

“Blaise.”

“Of course,” Draco sighed. “But look, it was just a few kisses. If I were you, I think I would just tell Viktor the truth. Tell him about Tom and how the kiss was a mistake.”

“I know but, I’m scared,” Harry said. “What if he hates me? Or think less of me?”

“Then Krum’s an asshole and he isn’t worth any of your praise or presence,” Draco said. “Look, I know that your situation is awful but honestly I think honesty is the way to go. I know I’m going to try it.” He looked at the door and licked his lips apprehensively.

Harry gazed at the door as well and nodded. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

“And whatever happens, I’ll be here,” Draco promised, “as will everyone else.” Harry sniffled and pulled Draco into a hug, the two holding each other for a long moment. Feeling collected, Harry stood up and the two left the dormitory to join their friends once more.

That night, Harry laid in his bed lost in thought over his breakdown earlier that day. He was worried that he cheated, yes, however he was even more worried over how Tom would react. How Tom might or most likely will kill Viktor all because they kissed. Because Harry felt comfortable near him because he felt in Viktor’s arms the same as he felt during those rare moments when Tom showed affection. What did this say about him? About Tom? I was so scared of Tom’s actions, Harry thought, is this even normal? He knew the answer, no, but then again what part of his relationship with Tom was ever normal?

He wished Tom was there. Not so he could hug and hold Harry, but so they could talk. Have an honest conversation. He felt that they were progressing, something was happening near the end of the summer, but then they were separated. Life tore them apart because of his schooling. They were away from each other for ten months, only to hug and kiss and love each other for two. There were letters, yes, and Yule, but was that really enough for a relationship to survive, let alone thrive?

“I love Tom,” Harry whispered. It was true, he did love Tom. They were dating… weren’t they? They were good, right? But then Harry thought about those lonely days at his home. Those times where he wished Tom was with him, only to be met with a closed door. Was that really a healthy relationship? He knew that his and Tom’s relationship wasn’t normal, but it was still healthy… right?

But maybe it’s not. Relationships should be what Daphnis and Theo had in Harry’s opinion. Dates constantly, daily acts of love both big and small, hand-holding, small notes, kissing, and cuddling. Time spent together more than apart. That was love in Harry’s mind. That was what he wanted, what he felt he needed, but did Tom give him that?

No.

No, he did not, Harry realized sadly. It comes in bursts with Tom, they have the cuddles, the kissing, the love, but they were interspaced with silence. With separation for months on end between kisses, and only letters to fill the void inside him. In a strange way, Harry missed when Tom was on the back of Quirrell’s head. They couldn’t talk all the time, true, however, at least they could be together in the same place. At least he knew what Tom was doing. He could ask Tom his thoughts and feelings, but now he had to wait days for Tom’s replies, and even then, it depends on if he mentions them. There was a wall between Harry and Tom, the boy felt. A wall that Harry didn’t know how to climb over, and that scared him. He did not want to lose Tom. He did not want to lose his savior, his love, but at the same time, he knew deep down that what they had wasn’t good. It needed to change, or else it would break.

And that was absolutely terrifying.

He didn’t want to break. He didn’t want his love between Tom and him to fall to pieces, so then it must change. Something must change. Maybe it would be best, then, if he took a step back from Tom. A break, no matter how much it hurts him, to examine his love for Tom. But he didn’t want to cheat. He didn’t want an excuse to kiss Viktor or have the professional seeker hold him in his arms.

No, Harry loved Tom. That was a fact, but he needed to stop obsessing over him. He needed to stop worrying constantly about him. He needed to talk to Viktor, and preferably sooner than later.

With this in mind, Harry rolled out of his bed and silently slipped his shoes on before kneeling in front of his trunk. He pulled out the Invisibility Cloak and wrapped it around him as he stood up. He made sure that he had the Marauder’s Map and left the dungeons.

Harry quickly made his way to the grounds, the fall air blowing through the cloak and his pajamas. It was chilly, but Harry carried on, his eyes falling on the map occasionally. As he expected, neither the Durmstrang’s ship nor the Beauxbatons’ carriage showed up on the Map, however, because they were still clearly on the grounds, their names still appeared. It was weird seeing a bunch of names at the edge of the lake, however, Harry’s eyes focused on one name. Viktor Krum.

He was on the boat, somewhere, and that was all that mattered.

Harry walked across the grounds down towards the lake, the only hints of his movement being the soft crunch of grass under his shoes. Soon enough, the crunching stopped as he reached the shore, replaced by small bits of rocks. The wooden plank stood in front of him, and Harry stepped aboard.

The ship was huge, like a classic pirate’s ship. The top cabin looked too small for everyone to sleep in. There was a window next to the door into the top cabin and Harry peaked inside to see an extravagant bedroom with a single bed that Professor Karkaroff occupied. Harry immediately moved away and found another door that immediately led to stairs.

The stairs led to cabins all pushed together and with two beds. Harry walked as silently as he could, peaking into room after room as he searched for Krum. All he saw were Durmstrang students all fast asleep. Near the end of the hull, Harry checked what he thought was the tenth cabin when he found Krum. The boy was somehow still awake, lying in the bed with his arms behind his head and a leg bent. His bunkmate was sleeping, snoring softly. Harry slipped into the room and closed his eyes. He could feel the prickling line that led towards the cabinmate and focused on it. Sleep, he thought, concentrating his magic through the line. He could feel the teen falling deeper into his slumber and smiled.

Still invisible, Harry snuck towards Krum and put a hand on Krum’s mouth as he pulled his Cloak off. “Viktor,” he whispered. Krum panicked for a second before he saw Harry.

“Harry? What are you doing here?” he whispered, his eyes drifting from Harry to his cabinmate.

“Don’t worry about him, he won’t wake up,” Harry whispered, “I just needed to talk to you.”

“What is it, my boy?” Krum asked softly. He sat up instantly and moved to wrap an arm around Harry’s waist. Harry shook his head and took a step back.

“I’m confused,” he said. “I’m sorry but, I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh…”

“Let me explain, please,” Harry begged. Viktor looked at Harry for a moment and nodded. Harry sighed and sat down next to Viktor. “His name is Tom. You might know him actually; he was a year ahead of you in Durmstrang. We live together but barely see each other. I love him, I really do but recently I just felt like we were separating. Drifting away from each other, which I really don’t want. We’ve known each other for so long, I loved him for so long but now that I think about it, I don’t even know what I even say when I say, ‘I love him.’ And it’s frustrating because we are separated for so long only to be together briefly. And when we’re together it’s great! But this summer, even though we live together we barely saw each other. I felt so lonely and then I met you.

“You who is just so sweet and perfect and just gave me everything that I wanted. Our kiss was amazing Viktor! I never wanted it to end, but at the same time, I felt so guilty and worried because I love Tom and I don’t know what he will do when he finds out. But I don’t want to lead you on, I don’t want to keep using you. I like you Viktor, I really do, but I also love Tom. And I don’t know what that even means. I need a step back, I feel. I need to stop constantly worrying about Tom, but I don’t want to lose either of you. I—I…” Harry’s voice broke. He didn’t know when he started crying but he felt his cheeks run wet and flushed as he sat there next to Viktor. He continued to cry, holding onto himself as he did so. “I don’t know what’s going on with my life.”

Viktor’s arms were around him instantly. Harry became rigid before slowly melting in the hug. “I’m sorry,” he continued to cry.

“Do not blame yourself, Harry,” Viktor muttered.

“You hate me.”

“No, I don’t,” Viktor said, holding Harry tighter. “I’m surprised and heartbroken to see that Riddle got you first, but I’m also sad at how awful he treated you.”

“He’s not treating me awful,” Harry whispered.

“Perhaps,” Viktor grumbled. “But I do think that you deserve better. We’ve known each other for so little, but I can see instantly how amazing you are Harry. You deserve the world, and in my personal opinion Riddle is barely offering you a country.”

If only you knew, Harry thought sadly.

“I’m enamored with you Harry, but I can see that you might need a break from love and dating if that makes sense,” Viktor continued. “I’ve been through too many heartbreaks to know the feeling well. I don’t want to lose you either, so maybe for now until you have your feeling sorted out, we just become friends?”

“Friends,” Harry whispered. The one thing he was determined to do and keep all along. The thing that Draco told Harry to tell Viktor, and now it was Viktor suggesting it. He couldn’t help but smile, “Yeah, yeah I can do that,” Harry nodded. “Does this mean that we can still hug?”

Viktor laughed loudly before stopping himself, glancing at his cabinmate. He stayed sleeping and Viktor smiled, “Of course,” he said. “You can hug me whenever you need to.”

“Then friends,” Harry said, hugging Viktor. He felt lighter, happier, and stood up from the bed. “Thank you, Viktor,” he said. “Er, goodnight.”

“Good night Harry,” Viktor chuckled. He went back to laying down as Harry wrapped his Invisibility Cloak around him and moved off of the ship.

November moved easier for Harry. He felt lighter, happier, and more sure of himself. He and Tom still exchanged letters, but Harry found that he started not including love in them anymore. He wasn’t cold to Tom, in his mind, he kept answering Tom’s questions and asking his own however in the end, he would just put Harry and that was enough.

As Harry expected, Skeeter’s article came out about the Triwizard Tournament with a rather large part about her interview with Harry in the middle. The Slytherins all had a laugh about it, Draco and Blaise constantly quoting the article, “Harry, I had no idea that your ‘green envious eyes stare at Diggory’ whenever you talk about the Tournament!” Blaise laughed.

“Potter, you really plan to overtake Diggory as Champion and didn’t tell me about it?” Draco asked with a fake gasp, “the shame!”

When the article came out, there were some obvious muttering if it was true or not, however, during dinner, Cedric stood up and went to Harry, who stood to meet him. They stared at each other, their neutral faces breaking in snickers before laughing completely. “So you’re totally going to cheat so I win, right?” Cedric asked loudly.

“Of course, that’s why we have the Polyjuice potion ready,” Harry said loudly, “I have to prove that I am ‘the better-accomplished wizard with years of thrill-seeking experience.’”

“Yeah but I’m taller,” Cedric said, and they both broke down laughing. The Hall stared at the two as though they were insane, but after that night Harry was happy to never hear whispers about Skeeter’s article again.

When it was November 23^rd, two days before the First Task, Harry was once again with Krum walking around the grounds. The older teen looked trouble, and Harry could feel his brooding. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Viktor?”

Krum looked up and frowned, “I’ve spent the entire day at the library,” he said.

“I know, I had to drag you out,” Harry said. “What is the matter? Is it the tournament?”

“Yes,” Krum said. “The first task is dragons; I have to get past a dragon.”

Harry gasped, dragons!? Where were they hiding them? “Seriously? How do you know?”

“Professor Karkaroff told me,” he said. “He also saw that other Headmaster with your groundskeeper.”

“Hagrid?” Harry repeated. He frowned. “I thought that the First Task is supposed to be a secret.”

“It is,” Krum muttered, “but we want to win.”

Harry could relate to that. He nodded and looked at Krum. “So you have to fight a dragon,” he said.

“Da.”

“Do you have any ideas how to get past it?”

“No, which is why I need to get back to the library,” Krum said. “I’m wasting time.”

“No, you’re not,” Harry hummed. “I want to walk with you more. Besides, maybe you’ll get an idea while walking.” He shrugged and offered Viktor a smile. “Perhaps it has a weak point. I mean, dragons can’t be all-powerful, right? They must have some weakness.” He took his glasses off and rubbed his eye before cleaning his glasses. When they were back on, he looked up to see Viktor staring at him. “What?”

“You beautiful boy that’s it!” Viktor exclaimed. “Thank you so much, Harry!” He hugged Harry tightly before running away without another word.

Harry stood there for a moment, confused at what happened, before snapping out of it. Their first task was dragons. Viktor and Cedric had to face dragons, and from the sound of it, only Viktor and the Beauxbatons champion knew what the task was. That didn’t sound exactly fair in Harry’s mind. The Slytherin thought that if the others were going to cheat, then Hogwarts should as well. It’s only fair.

With that in mind, Harry went to the castle in search of Cedric. He found the Champion with a load of sixth-year friends. Harry didn’t want to talk to Cedric in front of them; wanted them to have some plausible deniability if the need arose. He followed Cedric at a distance and saw that he was heading toward the Charms corridor. This gave Harry an idea. Pausing at a distance from them, he pulled out his wand and took careful aim.

“Diffindo!”

Cedric’s bag split. Parchment, quills, and books spilled out of it onto the floor. Several bottles of ink smashed.

“Don’t bother,” Cedric said in an exasperated voice as his friends bent down to help him. “I’ll catch up with you guys.”

This was exactly what Harry had been hoping for. He pocketed his wand and waited until Cedric’s friends had disappeared and hurried up the corridor.

“Hi,” Cedric said, picking up a copy of A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration that was now splattered with ink. “My bag just split, brand-new and all.”

“Shame,” Harry hummed. He pointed his wand and helped clean the books. “Though the First Task sounds even worse. You’re dealing with dragons.”

“What?” Cedric said, looking up.

“Dragons,” Harry said. “From the sounds of it, you need to get past them.”

Cedric stared at him. “Are you sure?”

“Dead sure, Viktor told me himself,” Harry nodded. “he and the Beauxbatons champion know—their headmasters told them. Figure you should have the equal footing.”

Cedric straightened up, his arms full of quills, parchment, and books, his ripped bag dangling off one shoulder. “By the dark,” he whispered. “Thank you, Harry,” he said. “Do you know what Krum will be doing?”

Harry shrugged, “That I don’t know,” he said. “All I know is that he’s spending all his time in the library.”

“Dragons,” Cedric whispered. “Okay… thanks again, Harry.”

They heard a familiar clunking noise behind them. Harry turned around and saw Mad-Eye Moody emerging from a nearby classroom. “Come with me, Potter,” he growled. “Diggory, off you go.”

Harry stared apprehensively at Moody. What did he want? “Professor, I actually need to go ask Professor Snape about an essay—”

“Never mind that, Potter. In my office, please.”

Harry followed him, wondering what was going to happen to him. Would he try to curse him thinking it was under his master’s orders? Harm him in any way? Harry knew that Crouch’s orders were to watch him, however, he did not know how loosely the Death Eater would follow that. He made sure that his fingers were on the tips of his wand.

He followed Moody into his office. Moody closed the door behind them and turned to look at Harry, his magical eye fixed upon him as well as the normal one.

“That was a decent thing you did, Potter,” Moody said quietly.

Harry didn’t know what to say; this wasn’t the reaction he had expected at all.

“Sit down,” Moody said, and Harry sat, looking around.

The office was full of a number of exceptionally off objects that Harry supposed Moody had used in his Auror days. On his desk stood what looked like a large, cracked, glass spinning top’ Harry recognized it as a Sneakoscope. In the corner on a small table stood an object that looked something like an extra-squiggly, golden television aerial. It was humming slightly. What appeared to be a mirror hung opposite Harry on the wall, but it was not reflecting the room. Shadowy figures were moving around inside it, none of them clearly in focus.

“Like my Dark Detectors, do you?” Moody said, who was watching Harry closely.

“What’s that?” Harry asked, pointing at the squiggly golden aerial.

“Secrecy Sensor. Vibrates when it detects concealment and lies … no use here, of course, too much interference—students in every direction lying about why they haven’t done their homework. Been humming ever since I got here. I had to disable my Sneakoscope because it wouldn’t stop whistling. It’s extra-sensitive, picks up stuff about a mile away. Of course, it could be picking up more than kid stuff,” he added in a growl.

“And the mirror?”

“That’s my Foe-Glass. See them out there, skulking around? I’m not really in trouble until I see the whites of their eyes. That’s when I open my trunk.”

He let out a short, harsh laugh, and pointed to the large trunk under the window. It had seven keyholes in a row. Harry wondered what was in there until Moody’s next question brought him back to earth.

“So, you found out about the dragons, eh?”

Harry hesitated. “I mean, the other schools did as well, so I figured to keep the task fair, I’ll tell our champion,” he answered.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Moody said, stretching out his wooden leg with a groan. “Cheating’s a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and always has been.”

“It wasn’t cheating, it was using the information I’ve learned to even the playing field,” Harry answered. “I did not set out to cheat, however, once I learned about the dragons I thought about the best way to use the information.”

“I can see why you’re wearing those robes now,” Moody grunted, pointing at the Slytherin crest on his robe. “Just don’t go down the path most of your lot does.” Harry barely stopped himself from making a face. Was Crouch really telling him not to be a Dark Wizard? He could almost laugh.

“Sir? Why did you bring me in here?” Harry asked.

Moody’s magical eye whirled around to stare at Harry. “Wanted to see what you’re thinking of doing,” Moody grunted.

“What I’m thinking of doing,” Harry repeated. “I’m just helping a friend, Professor.”

Moody’s eyes stared at him and he grunted, his magical eye turning to stare at the objects in the room. “Very well Potter, you’re free to go,” Moody said after a long moment. Harry stood up and did his best to casually turn around, an eye on Moody. “And Potter?” Moody called when he was at the door. “Good on you keeping your hand on your wand the entire time.”

The First Task brought an excitement that filled the Great Hall during breakfast. The Champions already left to prepare for the task, and Professor Dumbledore stood up when most were done eating to proclaim that they would follow the path around the edge of the forest. Harry was anxious for the task to be over, just for Viktor’s and Cedric’s safety, but he was also very excited to watch them tackle the task! He and his friends talked excitedly about the task, the others wondering loudly what they would have to do as they followed the path. Daphnis thought that they had to duel a dark creature while Blaise proposed an obstacle course filled with vampires and ogres and trolls! Harry wanted to tell them but decided against it. He wanted to see their shock at the dragons.

There was a tent next to an enclosure that they walked passed and Harry stared at the tent, wondering how his friends felt inside it. Around the enclosure were stands that completely surrounded the enclosure. On one end, was a small entrance that obviously connected to the tent they passed while at the other was a much larger opening than they heard growling from. “Sounds dangerous,” Blaise said as they sat down. “I wonder what’s in there?”

“We’ll have to see,” Daphnis said, moving to the edge of his seat. Harry just smiled knowingly at them and stared at the larger enclosure. At some point, the judges appeared, sitting at a raised platform for all to see. Bagman stood up and said loudly, his wand pressed against his throat, “Welcome to the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament! Today our Champions will prove their courage and quick-wittedness by facing the unknown! Before we welcome our first Champion, let me show you what they will face against!”

From the larger opening, many wizards walked through all holding chains and ropes as they escorted a dragon into the enclosure. The crowd screamed, Daphnis squeezed Theo’s arm yelling, “Oh no!” while Blaise laughed, “A Swedish Short-Snout! Awesome!” He grinned at the others and rubbed his hands together. The dragon was brought to a nest with a golden egg. “Yes folks, dragons! Our Champions must face a different dragon with one objective: to get the golden egg! And now our first Champion: Cedric Diggory!”

The crowd roared as Cedric walked into the enclosure. Harry saw George Weasley stand up from his seat to clap and cheer, screaming something that Harry couldn’t hear. The dragon immediately stared at Cedric and drew its head back, flames licking around its mouth. Cedric jumped towards large rocks to hide behind the flames as the dragon roared. The crowd gasped at his actions and Cedric immediately looked around. He aimed his wand at a large rock out of the Dragon’s view and the crowd all reacted as Cedric transfigured the rock into a dog. The dog barked and ran around. The dragon continued to breathe fire at Cedric’s rocks for a moment before stopping suddenly. It turned towards the dog and watched it for a moment. The dragon roared and stalked towards the dog who continued to run around. The dragon spread its wings and roared, it's tail flicking as it started to chase the dog.

The crowd cheered as Cedric took his chance and bolted towards the nest. He got to the nest and grabbed the egg. Cheers turned into screams and Harry saw that the dragon seemed to lose interest in the dog. It turned and roared at Cedric, breathing a large column of fire at the teen. Harry screamed with the others, and he felt the twinges of magic. His fingers reacted on their own, and almost immediately he felt himself connect with Cedric. Cedric slashed his wand, water forming like a wave that instantly collided with the fire. A bust of steam erupted, pushing Cedric back. He rolled on the ground, clutching the egg tightly until he could stand again with small scratches. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and sat back.

“Incredible!” Bagman yelled, “Absolutely outstanding performance! But will the judges love it?” The attention turned to the five judges, who raised their wands and gave their scores one by one. Madame Maxime gave Cedric a seven. Mr. Crouch shot a number nine into the air. The crowd cheered. Dumbledore too gave Cedric a nine. The crowd was cheering harder than ever. Bagman gave him a ten. And lastly, Karkaroff raised his wand lazily and shot out a three.

“Three!?” Harry raged. “Were you even watching?”

“Harry, relax,” Blaise tried to say, “He still got a good score. Thirty-eight.”

Cedric, however, seemed pleased with the score as he grinned proudly. Wizards ran out to tame the dragon and Cedric walked away to the side where Harry saw Madam Pomfrey rushing out to meet him. Down the stands, Harry saw George stand up to leave.

Next was Fleur Delacour, who tried to put her dragon, a Green Welsh according to Blaise, in a sort of trance. It seemed to work but in its sleepiness, it snorted out a jet of fire that burned her skirt that she had to put out. The judges gave her a Thirty-five. And Lastly was Viktor. Harry was on the edge of his seat as Viktor had to face a scarlet Chinese Fireball. Viktor stood tall as he walked towards the dragon.

“Very daring!” Bagman commentated. Viktor slashed his wand and aimed a spell directly at the dragon’s eye. The Chinese Fireball emitted a horrible, roaring shriek and the crowd drew its collective breath. “That’s some nerve he’s showing—” Bagman said as Viktor immediately ran for the egg. The dragon fell, trampling half of the real ones— “and—yes, he’s got the egg!”

Applause shattered the wintery air like breaking glass; Viktor had finished the quickest, and for his reward, he got a Forty, Karkaroff giving him a ten. In fact, Harry couldn’t help but notice that Viktor was the only Champion who got more than a 4 from Karkaroff. But it didn’t matter, the Task was done! They were safe! “I’m going to go congratulate Viktor,” Harry told his friends and ran off of the stands. He reached the champions’ tent just as Cedric was exiting with George. “You did amazing!” Harry said, hugging Cedric quickly.

“Thanks, I had no idea how I did the water trick,” Cedric grinned. “Thank the Dark I did though, huh? It must be watching me.”

“It always is,” George said, “like me.” He kissed Cedric’s cheek and Cedric grinned with pride.

“I’ll see you later,” Harry said, “I want to congratulate Viktor too.”

“Just don’t hug him harder than you hugged me,” Cedric joked, “a boy can get jealous, Harry.”

Harry waved him off and went inside the tent. He saw Viktor rubbing his neck and said, “That was brilliant! You were the fastest one!” He hugged Viktor for only a second, but at that moment there was a flash and they separated at Skeeter’s voice.

“Ah young love, is there anything as sweet and as modern as this?” she said, wearing an acid-green dress. “Just the two I wanted to see—I wondered if I could have a quick word with you?”

“Yeah, you can,” Harry said savagely, “’Goodbye,’” and he walked off with Viktor following, the two laughing loudly.

Chapter Text

Chapter 53

Rita Skeeter’s Scoop

MODERN LOVE! THE SECRET CROSS-SCHOOL RELATIONSHIPS NOBODY WOULD EXPECT: HARRY POTTER AND VIKTOR KRUM

By Rita Skeeter

We are living in a modern and fast time. Progression is in the air, as with love, and it caught Hogwarts by storm with this new couple. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and thriller-seeker extraordinaire who last appeared lamenting that he cannot be part of the Triwizard Tournament has seemed to find another way he can be part of the Tournament. He has conquered Dark Lords and immeasurable tasks for Hogwarts, and now Harry Potter has decided to conquer Love with the Durmstrang Champion Viktor Krum as the object of his affection.

Homosexuality, also known as being gay, is now en vogue as Harry and Krum were seen in a lovers’ embrace in Hogsmeade weeks prior as well as sharing a moment in Krum’s victory after the First Task.

While we are happy for the couple, it is worrying to wonder where Harry’s loyalty lies in the tournament: in his school of Hogwarts or his boyfriend? Perhaps, since Harry could not become the Hogwarts Champion, he saw Krum as a way to still achieve victory and glory. Could he sabotage Hogwarts’ Champion just so he could get clout?

Not many are thrilled about this new development, however. “It’s so gross! I can’t even think of two boys kissing,” commented fifth-year student Katie Bell, who has faced off against Harry Potter multiple times on the Quidditch field. “Boys are supposed to be with girls, it’s not natural any other way.”

Recent laws forbidding homosexuals were lifted three years ago, however, the public is still cautious over accepting their kind. Homosexuals are known for being promiscuous, and it is unknown if either Harry has chosen this lifestyle or had Krum chose it for him. All we can do is hope for Harry Potter’s well-being, as well as that he grows out of this phase and his dangerous attention-seeking ways. But then again, we all do love a rebel.

The Newspaper burst into flames in Tom’s hands. His eyes sifted red as he glared at the moving picture of his Harry hugging some over-muscled brute. Who did he think he was touching what was his? Touching his boy like that? And having it reported all over the paper like this!? Lord Voldemort will make sure that Viktor Krum will wish that he was never born, and he will lock his Prince away.

He did not care if his love hated him. He would learn to understand, time and Tom’s touch will make Harry forget all about Viktor Krum. He let the ashes of the newspaper drop from his fingers, a small satisfaction bubbling as he watches the picture of Viktor Krum burning. He could not wait to have Krum burning for real. He swept down to the basement and stepped into the red circle. Still feeling furious, Voldemort felt himself leaving his body as he moved through the webs of magic until he once again was at Hogwarts’ barrier. He longed to smash it. To break it to pieces just to kill Viktor Krum in front of everyone. But that would be counterproductive. He had his plans that were already in motion. He would come out in the open at the end of Harry’s year, he will have his Prince by his side, all that will change is who will be there as well at the end. And if it wasn’t Krum, then Voldemort will be glad to make an exception.

The barrier was weakened. Very weakened. It was easy for Voldemort to feel the magic of the castle and its inhabitants through the hole in the barrier. It was now big enough to fit his hand through, almost time for Voldemort to get his boy back. If he planned it right, then he should have it done on Yule. It would be perfect, on the darkest day of the year where Dark Magic is strongest, he will claim Harry as his own and make sure that nobody ever tries to go for him again.

Harry hated Skeeter’s article from Witch Weekly. Obviously, he worried that Tom would read it, and how he would react, but more immediately he was now outed. The whole school now knows he’s gay and already it was affecting his life. He was used to people staring at him, but now there were different kinds of whispers. He heard “fag” and “pansy” being thrown his way. Oddly enough, Ron Weasley was not one of them. In fact, none of the Gryffindors in his year called Harry those names. Harry once even saw Ron yelling at an upper-year after making a gay joke. Harry bet that the joke wasn’t directed at him directly or else Ron wouldn’t have done anything.

Some people tried to jinx him, but it was easy for Harry to redirect their spells back at them. For now, Harry was in Potions’ class. The period has ended, however, Professor Snape held them back, his upper lip scowling as though he was about to give some very unpleasant news. Unpleasant for him, at least. “Professor Dumbledore wanted you to know that the Yule Ball is quickly approaching,” the Potions Master said. “It is a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for … fraternization with our foreign guests. The ball will be open to students fourth year and above, however, you may invite a younger student if you wish.”

He paused and looked at the Slytherins for a moment. “Dress robes will be worn,” he continued, “and the ball will start at eight o’clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. I expect to see all of you there for the entire duration of this sordid event.” His eyes landed directly on Harry. Harry stared back at the man, doing his best not to glare. “This ball is of course a chance for all of us to, to use the phrase, let our hair down,” Snape continued. “However, that does not mean that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most … displeased if a Slytherin student embarrasses the school in any way.”

His eyes finally left Harry as the bell rang and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and swung them onto their shoulders. “So, Yule Ball,” Pansy said as they left. “Do you boys even know how to dance?”

“Of course,” Blaise said, “I am an excellent dancer,” he smirked. “My mother taught me herself.” He looked at Draco and smirked as he winked. Draco’s cheeks turned rosy and he looked away.

“Do you have any ideas on who you’ll ask?” Pansy asked looking around the group.

“I mean, Theo and I are going together, right Theo?” Daphnis asked.

“Of course, Daph,” Theo smiled.

“I have someone in mind,” Draco said, his eyes glancing at Blaise who winked at him. “What about you two, Harry? Pansy?”

“I don’t know,” Pansy said, shrugging. “I mean, it’s only proper for the boy to ask the girl, right? So I’ll just sit back and let the boys flock to me.”

“I want to ask my boyfriend,” Harry said slowly, “but I don’t know if he’ll come.” He looked at Draco who gave him a knowing look.

“Well, maybe if you write to him he’ll find a way,” Pansy said. He gave a laugh and looked around before commenting, “It would be a sight, the Dark Lord here in Hogwarts right under Dumbledore’s nose.”

“Y-Yeah,” Harry said. Flashes of the horrible things that Tom might do to Viktor came to his mind, and all of a sudden he thought that it would be a bad idea to invite Tom. Still, his heart wanted to so he sat down when they reached the common room and pulled out a piece of parchment.

Tom,

On Yule, we are having something called the Yule Ball, a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament. I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. I know you’re busy, but I think it would be fun. Besides, it would be nice to see you.

I hope you can come,

Harry

Feeling that was the best he could do, Harry folded the piece of parchment. He felt heavy and sighed as he stared at the letter. What is even going on?

Harry mailed the letter the next day and waited. Days passed with no response, and Harry started to worry that Tom would never respond. Viktor must have noticed his worry when they were sitting together outside one day as he asked, “What is troubling you, Harry?”

“The Yule Ball,” Harry answered. “Have you found anyone yet?”

“No, there’s no one who interested me yet, even though I’m required to have a date for the night. Champions are supposed to open the ball with dancing, apparently,” Viktor said. “How about you? Are you taking Tom?”

“I did, but I got no response,” Harry said sadly. “I just… this is what I mean when I have no idea what I’m even saying or doing when it comes to him. He has all these plans and things he wants to do and sometimes he keeps me involved but recently, nothing.”

Viktor sighed and looked out over the grounds for a moment. “If you do not hear from him in two weeks, then how about you and I go together as friends?” he suggested. “It would be fun, da? Besides, honestly, no one else interests me.”

Harry thought for a moment, “It would give more fuel for the people thinking we’re a couple,” he began, “and I don’t want Tom angrier at me than he might already is. I haven’t heard from him since the thing came out.”

“Forget about them,” Viktor said. “Those people, that stupid article, even Riddle. Forget about all of them. You should enjoy your life, and going to this dance sounds like fun, right?”

“Yeah, it does,” Harry nodded.

“Then come with me,” Viktor said. “If Riddle is angry, then he should have tried harder to come here. Besides, we are just going as friends.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Harry nodded. “So, if I don’t hear from Tom, we’ll go as friends.”

“As friends,” Viktor agreed. Harry felt lighter and smiled. He knew that Tom would respond.

December went along, each day not bringing a letter from Tom. Still, Harry held onto hope during the first week. His hope, however, wilted as the second week slowly went by. Every day he would look up at the swarm of owls for Hedwig. Sometimes she would come, but never with a letter attached to her. He’s busy, Harry told himself. He just didn’t have the time to respond.

But what if he hated Harry? No, Harry refused to even entertain the thought. When the second week ended, Harry felt his heavy heart split in two. Viktor patted his shoulder and asked, “Any word?”

“None,” Harry whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Viktor said softly. “But we will have fun at the dance. And then, I promise, we will find Riddle afterward and talk sense into his dense head.”

Harry gave a soft smile, “Thanks,” he said.

The last week of terms became increasingly boisterous as it progressed. Rumors about the Yule ball were flying everywhere, though Harry didn’t believe half of them—for instance, that Dumbledore had brought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta, the owner of the Three Broomsticks. It seemed to be fact, however, that he had booked the Weird Sisters. Exactly who or what the Weird Sisters were Harry didn’t know. The best he could deduce was that they were a popular musical group.

Some of the teachers, like Professor Flitwick, gave up trying to teach them much when their minds were so clearly elsewhere; he allowed them to play games in his lessons on Wednesday, and spent most of it talking to Harry about his fire orbs, very impressed that he can now summon them away from his body. Other teachers were not so generous. Nothing would ever deflect Professor Binns, for example, from plowing on through his notes on goblin rebellions—as Binns hadn’t let his own death stand in the way of continuing to teach, they supposed a small thing like Yule for the Slytherins wasn’t going to put him off. Professor McGonagall and Moody kept them working until the very last second of their classes too, and Snape, of course, would no sooner let them play games in class than adopt Harry. Staring nastily around at the Gryffindors they share Potions with, he informed them that he would be testing them on poison antidotes during the last lesson of the term.

The Hogwarts staff, demonstrating a continued desire to impress the visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, seemed determined to show the castle at its best this Yule. When the decorations went up, Harry noticed that they were the most stunning he had yet seen inside the school. Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase; the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armor had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them. It impressed Harry, and he couldn’t help but fall into the holiday cheer even as he worked on Snape’s test on the last day of school.

Finally, school was over, and even though the fourth years were given a very heavy set of homework for the holidays, Harry felt completely excited for the ball, and a night of fun with his friends.

Voldemort was smiling victoriously. It was the night before Yule, December 24^th, and he finally had a break in the barrier large and permanent enough for everything he needed. On his bed was a small trunk filled with materials for his personal shack. He already enchanted the door to his room to receive the door from the fifth shack, all he had to do was make the connection. Harry’s invitation to the Yule Ball was sitting on his dresser, and though the Dark Lord did not reply, he knew exactly what he had to do to impress and woo his Harry once more. Which was why he was standing in front of a mirror, adjusting a pair of black dress robes that looked more like a proper suit with a long tailcoat. He looked incredibly handsome, and he would have his Harry in his arms in no time. And Krum’s body at his feet.

Chapter Text

Chapter 54

Yule Consummation

On the morning of Yule, Harry woke up to a pile of presents as normal. The common room was rowdier than usual, and much more crowded than other Yules due to the dance and Triwizard Tournament. He didn’t expect a present from Tom sadly but was surprised when he saw a letter from his boyfriend sitting right next to him on a pillow.

My Harry,

Please excuse my lack of present this morning. I promise I will do more than make up for it tonight. Finally, we will be together, and I will make sure that nothing ever gets between us ever again.

I love you, Harry, I’ll always love you.

I will see you tonight, waiting with open arms.

Your husband,

Tom

Harry felt guilty. He was excited for Tom to finally see him again, but he didn’t want to bring up the kiss, and worse he didn’t want to face the inevitable fight that it would bring. That was if Tom didn’t know about it already, but Harry had a feeling that he did.

His other gifts were more ordinary and less guilt-ridden. He got a copy of a book called Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland from Theo; Sirius gave him a penknife with attachments to unlock any lock and undo any knot; Pansy made him a couple of skirts as well as pants with a letter hoping they were the correct size. He got books and other interesting paraphilia from his other friends that made Harry smile. Lastly, there was Mrs. Weasley’s usual package, including a new sweater and a large quantity of homemade mince pies.

Harry spent the day with his friends, eating breakfast together before hanging out in the Slytherin dormitory, Harry and Theo playing Wizards Chess. During the afternoon, the Slytherins went outside; the snow was untouched except for the deep channels made by the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students on their way up to the castle. The boys all started a snowball fight with Pansy sneaking throws at them when they weren’t looking, and at five o’clock she said she was going back downstairs to get ready for the ball.

The boys soon followed, and Harry found himself changed into his dress robes standing in front of a mirror. Harry’s robes looked very dapper, a soft emerald shade of green with a white button-up shirt and black bowtie, the tail ending just at his knees. He adjusted his cuffs as Blaise and Daphnis both attempted to fix his hair. “Crap Harry, what the hell do you put in here?” Daphnis cursed.

“I swear it has a mind of its own,” Blaise muttered.

“OW!” Harry yelled when Blaise tried to pull at a particularly bad knot with a comb. “Careful!”

Blaise made a dismissive noise and continued his assault on Harry’s hair with Daphnis. Together, they were able to unknot most of his wild locks and gave it a neat style that was still unequivocally Harry.

Harry and Viktor agreed to meet at the entrance hall, so when he was done getting ready, Harry waved goodbye to his friends and made the way upstairs out of the dungeons. The entrance hall was packed with people, all milling around waiting for eight o’clock when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open. Those people who were meeting partners from different Houses were edging through the crowd trying to find one another.

The oak front doors opened and everyone turned to look as the Durmstrang students entered with Professor Karkaroff. Viktor was at the front of the party, wearing a dashing red dress robe with fur. Over their heads, Harry saw that an area of lawn right in front of the castle had been transformed into a sort of grotto full of fairy lights—meaning hundreds of actual living fairies were sitting in the rosebushes that had been conjured there, and fluttering over the statues of what seemed to be Father Christmas and his reindeer.

Then Professor McGonagall’s voice called “Champions over here, please!”

Harry felt an arm on his waist when Viktor reached him, they both smiled and made their way towards McGonagall. “You look ravishing,” Viktor commented. “You should dress like that when we confront Riddle. Make him see sense with your beauty.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, his cheeks blushing slightly. “You look really good as well.”

The crowd parted for them as they walked through. Professor McGonagall told them to wait to one side of the doors while everyone else went inside; they were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students had sat down. Fleur Delacour and her date, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain Roger Davies, stationed themselves nearest the doors; Davies looked so stunned by his good fortune in having Fleur for a partner that he could hardly take his eyes off her. Cedric was standing tall and proudly next to George Weasley, who did his best to stand tall as well, their hands holding and George had a rather victoriously smug grin as he met each and every girl who glanced at their way, each one looking disappointed. Finally, there was Harry and Viktor who quickly fell into a conversation on Quidditch tactics. Behind him, Harry heard a scoff and turned to see Cedric shaking his head ruefully. “We are at a dance and you are talking Quidditch Harry? Ever have your mind off of brooms?”

“Nope,” Harry grinned, “I need to keep beating you next year after all.”

Viktor chuckled and added, “I do not think it is Harry’s broom you should be thinking about, Diggory.”

Both Cedric and George’s faces went red as the last of the students were settled in the Hall. The champions and their partners were lined in pairs and followed Professor McGonagall inside. They did so, and everyone in the Great Hall applauded as they entered and started walking up toward a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting.

The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

Harry concentrated on not tripping over his feet as he and Viktor walked. He looked around and caught Ron Weasley glaring at Harry with complete jealousy and contempt.

Dumbledore smiled happily as the champions approached the top table, but Karkaroff wore an expression remarkably like Weasley’s as he watched Viktor and Harry draw nearer. Harry felt something prick at the back of his mind as he and Viktor sat down. It was like a string pulling at him softly but intently. Harry looked around, confused, but saw nothing. I’m going mad, he thought to himself.

Dinner started, Dumbledore modeling how to order food by saying the meal to the empty golden plates, and soon both Harry and Viktor were eating. The two continued their conversation about brooms, laughing at each other’s jokes. “Harry remind me when the weather gets warmer to get you on your broom,” Viktor said, “I still have those tricks to show you.”

Harry grinned and said, “You better show me all the tricks you know, Krum, I want to be unstoppable.” He winked and looked over at Cedric and George who were staring at the two of them. A worried expression fell over the boyfriends and Harry laughed lightly.

When the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls, leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall with instruments set upon it.

The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their instruments and Viktor and Harry stood up with the other champions and their partners. A slow, mournful tune started to play and Harry couldn’t help but wince. “This is what they’re all excited for?” he whispered to Viktor as the older man placed his hand on Harry’s waist.

Viktor chuckled as he steered Harry, the two revolving slowly on the spot. “I think they have faster songs, I don’t know. I’ll be honest I do not know much about British artists.”

“How is music in Bulgaria?”

“Different,” Viktor hummed, “It is good, but I will admit I like American music better.”

“Tom loves jazz,” Harry commented. “It’s one of the good things muggles made according to him.”

“And you?” Viktor asked as he twirled Harry, “What do you like?”

Harry thought for a moment, “Most things I guess,” Harry said, “but nothing too slow.”

Very soon many of the others had come onto the dance floor so that the champions were no longer the center of attention. Draco and Blaise were dancing together nearby—Draco looking confidently snobbish as he let Blaise lead the dance. The slow song finally ended with a final, quavering note from a bagpipe. A faster one started to play and Harry smiled as he and Viktor were about to dance more freely.

The doors to the Great Hall were open, couples and partners moving in and out whenever they wanted, and through them, unbeknownst to Viktor or Harry, a tall, handsome young man walked through.

His eyes fell easily on his prey, his sweet prey dancing with another man. Anger ripped through him, but he kept it contained. Tonight was all about capturing his love again and prove that they would never be alone again. He walked with purpose towards them, his eyes drifting only once to see Dumbledore dancing with another professor and completely distracted. Harry twirled and he grabbed for the boy, pulling him from Krum. “Hello my little snake,” he purred.

“TOM!?” Harry gasped, looking up at the young man. “How!?”

Tom just smirked as he swept Harry away, “Do you really have no trust in your lord?” he chuckled. “I told you I would be here, my love, and here I am.” Harry looked over his shoulder to see Viktor watching them carefully. “Harry, eyes on me, please,” Tom whispered.

“Why are you here now?” Harry asked softly. “Why didn’t you answer my letter?”

“To make an entrance of course,” Tom smirked. “Isn’t that what you want? A grand entrance and action of love?”

“No, it’s not,” Harry said, sounding both sad and a little angry. He stopped and looked around the Great Hall. Everyone around him was dancing happily. Draco and Blaise, Cedric and Fred, Theo and Daphnis… even Pansy was dancing with a Beauxbatons boy. Weasley had Granger, Longbottom was dancing with the younger Weasley, and Finnigan and Thomas were being cheered at by the Gryffindors around them. Everyone was happy, lost in the moment of partying and holiday cheer, and yet here was Harry feeling like he was at the edge of a cliff, holding onto Tom desperately and not knowing if Tom would pull him or let go.

He felt trapped. He needed air. Without thinking of Tom, Harry stepped towards the doors of the Great Hall, Tom following him and calling after his name. He walked across the entrance hall and into the front courtyard-turned-grotto. Tom followed him all the way and grabbed his hand halfway through, “Do not walk away from me, what is the matter with you Harry?” he demanded. “I thought you would love this! I’ve worked towards this for months!”

“Yes, I love having my night with a friend ruined because of someone who barely replies to my letters shows up unexpectedly,” Harry sneered. He turned around and glared at Tom.

“That man is not your friend,” Tom seethed, “And he will rue—”

“Stop this, just stop,” Harry sighed. “I’m tired, Tom.”

Tom frowned, “What do you mean? It’s barely nine.”

“No, I’m tired of this,” Harry said. “I’m tired of worrying about you, worrying about how you would react.”

“You have nothing to fear from me, Harry—”

“You just threatened to kill my friend,” Harry argued.

“Only because he dares to kiss what was mine! You should have cursed him the moment that happened, killed him for daring to touch—”

“I LIKED IT!” Harry screamed, jerking his hand out of Tom’s. “I LIKED HIS KISSES AND I LIKED HIS HUGS! IT IS WAY MORE THAN WHAT YOU WERE GIVING ME!”

Tom had his wand aimed at Harry before either could even breathe. Harry inhaled deeply through his nose as Tom glared at him, his chest rising and falling. Realization seemed to hit Tom and his wand slipped. “I—Harry, I’m sorry—”

“No, aim it at me,” Harry said, “Show me emotions, Tom! Stop pushing me away, at least fucking act like you care about me!”

“I care for you Harry, I love you!” Tom yelled.

Harry flinched, “Do you?” he whispered. “I love you too Tom but, I don’t know what that means.”

“You can’t mean that!” Tom yelled. “We’ve been through too much Harry, too much for you to quit here!”

“I’m not quitting!” Harry yelled. “Damn it Tom I love you but—but you need to realize that maybe we’re not ready, maybe I’m not ready. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep hoping for ten months that you’ll hold and hug me only for you to leave me. I need more Tom. I deserve more. I was lonely and you weren’t there—but Viktor was and I still love you, I’ll always love you but it was a mistake. A horrible stupid mistake and I regretted it horribly even if it made me feel wanted.”

“You think that I don’t want you?” Tom whispered.

“N-No… I, I don’t know!” Harry yelled. He pulled at his hair and groaned. “I don’t know Tom! I love you, I want to be with you but—but you’re never here! You are never here to hold me when I’m alone or, or to kiss me when I want to be kissed! You’re never here to hold my hand down the hallways or even go on dates! You’re away, you’re always away, and I just can’t keep waiting for you.”

The cold wind breezed through them, but neither boy noticed. They just stared at each other, tears forming around Harry’s eyes, his cheeks flushed from emotions and the cold. Tom stared back, his emotionless façade cracking to show his horror at the thought of losing Harry. He grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled. Harry tried to stand his ground but stumbled. “Where are you taking me?” he asked.

“Someplace warmer. Please,” Tom said. “We both did horrible things, and I would rather not talk about it in the cold.” Harry nodded and Tom pulled him to his chest. He felt a warm feeling envelop him as a swirl of darkness took hold. He held onto Tom, latching onto him tightly as darkness wrapped around them and the grotto and castle disappeared. The darkness fell the next moment and they were on the ritual grounds in the Forbidden Forest. “Please wait,” Tom whispered, and he pulled out his wand, “I can’t do them with a simple snap like you, Harry.” He waved his wand and large shimmering orbs appeared above them, illuminating the grounds and radiating heat. The snow on the forest floor melted almost instantly, showing faint marks of etches and summoning circles.

Harry let go of Tom and looked around. They were alone. Everyone else must have still been at the ball. He turned back to Tom only to see him kneeling on one knee. “You told me that we need to be together, that I need to show how much I love you more and often. You want dates, serenades, affections big and small, and I failed to deliver any of that. But no more, my Harry. I love you. I love you with all of my heart, my being, and my magic, but I know that words mean nothing at this point, only action.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a box. He placed it next to it and it enlarged immediately, becoming twice the size of a fully grown man. It immediately floated off towards the other shacks. Harry looked between Tom and the box and raised an eyebrow.

“That is not the reason I’m kneeling,” Tom said. “In that box is everything I need to craft a fifth shack. A shack that is directly linked to our home, specifically into my study. As it builds, I want to show you my true act of love, and a promise.”

Tom took a breath and reached into his other pocket. “Can you give me your hand, Harry?” Tom asked.

Harry slowly did and Tom took Harry's in his free hand as from his pocket he pulled out a silver ring with a large emerald. “This is my promise, Harry,” Tom said. “My promise to you to always love you and to always be here for you. And when we make this world a just one, I will promise to marry you. You and I will be husbands, and nothing will ever tear us apart again. I will burn down the atrocities of the world, and leave only the beautiful so that you and I will be together, forever. Will you accept my ring, Harry?”

Harry stared down at Tom. He felt a warm feeling build up inside him as well as a sense of anticipation. He didn’t want to be left alone, but he also didn’t want to be disappointed again by Tom. He didn’t want to be constantly worried about how Tom would react. But he couldn’t think of his life without Tom. “How did you even get here?” he asked again.

“Dark Magic,” Tom answered. “Two months ago, on Samhain, I’ve used magic to travel just outside of Hogwarts. I’ve felt the barriers protecting the castle and examined them until I’ve found the weakest point. I attacked it, and have been gradually chipping away at the barrier until tonight when enough was down that I can come here and establish our own shack. In essence, this was one of the many plans that I have been spending the summer preparing. All of this for you, Harry James Potter. All that we will never be separated again.”

“Oh,” Harry whispered. He swallowed as his emotions continued to war. “Tom?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“I … I can’t accept the ring,” Harry admitted. “Not right now.” Tom looked heartbroken and Harry quickly continued. “I’m not ready—we are not ready. I’m still mad at you, I love you but… but I can’t accept this, I’m sorry. Not right now, not tonight.”

“I understand, “Tom said. He still looked forlorn as he pocketed the ring. He stood up and the two stared at each other. Harry swallowed and stepped towards Tom, “I still want you,” he whispered, “but I’m so mad.”

“It’s okay, Harry,” Tom whispered back, “What do your emotions tell you to do?”

“Kiss you deeply, properly, and punch you,” Harry admitted. Tom chuckled and opened his arms, “Then do it,” he said and a second later Harry was on him, pressing his lips firmly on Tom.

Harry’s arms wrapped around Tom and they pressed their bodies together. Tom’s tongue pushed against Harry’s lips and Harry moaned, opening for access and Tom struck through, their tongues colliding as Tom thrust against Harry. Both groaned and felt like he was in heaven as Tom’s hands touched him. One hand slipped his robes off as it moved to the back of his neck, holding him tightly as the other slipped between his shirt, the buttons becoming undone, and he groped and twisted his chest. “Tom,” Harry panted. “Please.”

“What do you want Harry?” Tom panted, “Tell me.”

“Everything.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes—I, Blaise told me about it. Please, Tom, I want it,” Harry panted.

“I want it too,” Tom growled out. “I want to devour you, leave my mark everywhere, and have you wrapped tightly around me.” He pushed his growing cock against Harry’s. “But not tonight, tonight will be all about your pleasure, my sweet prince.” He took Harry’s mouth once more and pushed Harry to the ground. They fell on Harry’s robes and Tom pressed harder against him. “Tom,” Harry moaned against his lips.

Harry felt his own cock growing as they continued to writhe against each other, Tom’s hand never leaving his chest as he pushed and pull, dragging his fingernails against Harry’s hard nubs before pinching and pulling hard, earning lowly high sounds from Harry. “Please.”

“You like a little pain,” Tom chuckled, “Good to know Harry.” He sat up so that he was straddling Harry and smirked as he grabbed Harry’s shirt and pulled, roughly tearing it to pieces and revealing smooth, sun-kissed skin. “Beautiful,” Tom breathed and he bent down, kissing Harry’s chest, earning him playful whines. He butterfly kissed and bit his way to one nipple where it waited hard for him. “So excited,” Tom chuckled. He teased Harry, sucking and biting at the hot flesh as he pinched and pulled the other.

Harry gasped, his face turning red as sweat began to form. He wanted more, needed more as the heat inside him grew. His lips panted open but only Tom’s name escaped them. Tom chuckled and continued his assault, earning delicious moans from Harry. He leaned away and smirked at his work, Harry’s nipple looking puffier and thoroughly abused. He switched and continued to play with it with his hand as he suck and bit the other one. “Never stop,” Harry moaned, “Please never stop.”

Tom looked up with a slurp and smirked, “Like I said, Harry, tonight is all about your pleasure,” he breathed and continued worshiping Harry’s chest.

When both of his nipples were puffy and littered with bite marks, Tom finally moved down, slowly kissing and licking as his fingers traced every small part of Harry’s body. He reached Harry’s pants and smirked, teasing the hem with his mouth, “Can I open up this present, Harry?” he asked with a lewd smile. Harry nodded and quickly lifted his ass up so they could pull his pants and underwear down with one tug, revealing his hard hairless cock.

“So cute!” Tom said, pushing a finger against the head of Harry’s cock. His lover groaned as pre-cum pearled at the slit. It was about four inches, almost five, and Tom was immediately in love with how adorable it looked with the shaft being pale and the head a light pink. He bent down and gave Harry’s cock a long, lazy lick.

“Toooommm,” Harry mewled. Tom licked again before taking Harry’s legs and lifting them in the air.

“Relax my love, this will leave you feeling completely sated,” Tom purred, his eyes on his target. It was small, tight, a pink hole surrounded by two globes.

“What—what are you going to do to my butt?” Harry asked. Tom answered with a long lick. “TOM!

Tom gave another long lick, his tongue crossing across Harry’s hole, pushing slightly in, before traveling up his taint and to Harry’s balls where he licked and lapped at them like a starving snake, his devilish tongue making Harry feel things he never thought possible. Then Tom returned to his hole with that wicked tongue and it went inside him.

It was such a weird sensation. The tongue wiggled and pushed, Tom’s hands grabbed Harry’s ass tightly, his fingers digging in and leaving scratches. Pain and pleasure mixed in Harry and he was left a moaning mess as Tom licked and bit his hole, sometimes sticking two fingers in, jabbing at a certain spot that made Harry see stars. A hot feeling slowly bubbled inside Harry, his balls were pulled towards his dick. His dick pulsed and jerked, leaking pre-cum onto his stomach as Tom continued to pleasure him. Harry reached to grab it but Tom slapped it away. “Do not touch yourself,” Tom commanded before going back to eating him out.

Fingers and tongue invade him, and Harry wanted more. He felt himself open up to Tom, wanting to have him as deep inside as his fingers and tongue would go all the while the sensation inside him continued to build, becoming tighter and tighter. His dick struggled, endlessly weeping. “Tom, I’m gonna,” Harry panted when he realized what was going to happen.

“Go on, explode,” Tom commanded, sticking two fingers into him and jabbing that special spot over and over again, ruthlessly abusing it and causing Harry to swear. With a final jab, Harry exploded. Screaming Tom’s name to the heavens as he covered himself in his seed. The orgasm seemed to last forever as Harry rode a never-ending bliss that made him momentarily forget all of his troubles.

Tom let his legs down gently, his hole pulsing and feeling empty as his dick still wept as it turned soft. Then the licking began. Tom took the time to lick every inch of Harry’s body, his seed collecting on that devilish tongue before his lord swallowed it all. “You taste heavenly, my little snake,” Tom hissed. Harry’s face was flushed and his spent dick gave a small jerk in response. Tom chuckled and kissed Harry’s cock before he continued to clean Harry’s body. When he was done, Tom laid down his cloak next to Harry’s and laid down, pulling his naked boy onto him. Harry rested on his chest and sighed comfortably.

“You know we need to talk,” Harry whispered.

“I know,” Tom said as he looked up above him, seeing the sea of stars from the clearing of trees. “But just for now, let us just relax and enjoy each other’s presence.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 55

The Fifth Shack

“We need to talk.”

“I know.”

Despite wanting to keep latched around each other, Tom and Harry separated so Harry could get dressed. Tom just put on his robes and waited until Harry was proper and standing in front of him. They both stood silently for a moment awkwardly, their cheeks blushed.

“Tom—”

“I will kill Viktor Krum.”

Harry stared at Tom for a moment before pushing him away, “What!? No!” he yelled.

Tom raised an eyebrow, “Excuse me?” he said before continuing, “I will kill Viktor Krum,” Tom said calmly, too calm for Harry’s liking. “He should not have touched you the way he did at all, or even thought of kissing you, Harry. You are mine. No one else can touch you.”

“You cannot be serious!” Harry yelled, his anger quickly returning. “Damn it Tom this is why we need to talk! You cannot just go out and kill people like this!”

“I can if they touch what is mine—”

“I am not an object!” Harry screamed. “I am my own person! And I kissed him! What are you going to do? Kill me for daring to like somebody else when you gave me nothing? And what of my friends? They hug me all the time, should they be killed too because they touch me?”

“They know their place, they did not kiss you,” Tom answered.

“They’re my friends! Viktor is my friend; you will not harm him!” Harry yelled.

“I can and I will, he dared to kiss you, to hold you like a lover when I am your lover—”

“If you even try, I will stop you,” Harry said, and before either knew it, Harry had his wand aimed at Tom.

Tom saw red. He swiped his hand and Harry’s wand flew out of his hand. “Is that how you treat me?” he yelled. “Is that how little you care for me? Your husband? Your master!? To pick that Bulgarian bastard over me who you owe your very life to?”

“When you act like this, yes,” Harry yelled, he waved his hand, and fire orbs appeared around Tom. “I don’t want to hurt you, Tom, I really don’t, but if you really think that killing my friend is the correct way, I will have no choice.” The flames around Tom surged angrily. He could feel the heat lick against him as the orbs hovered perfectly around him. His eyes flickered from the fire towards Harry, whose emerald eyes shone with a similar flame. He sighed and held up his hands.

“You said we needed to talk, my love, so let’s talk,” he said.

“Get my wand first,” Harry said.

Tom stared at Harry for a moment and held out his hand. Harry’s wand flew towards it and he held it out for the younger Slytherin. Harry stepped to grab it, and Tom stayed still until Harry pocketed his wand. Then, with a wave of his hand, his fire went away. Harry sighed and looked down at the ground, “I hate being scared of you,” he said. “I mean, being scared of your reactions.”

“Why are you scared by my reactions?” Tom demanded. “I’ve only reacted logically and in our favor.”

“No, you haven’t,” Harry argued. “You threatened to kill my friend.”

“Because Viktor Krum—”

“If you say that he was touching something that was yours, I’ll never be yours again!” Harry interrupted. “I am not property, Tom. And none of this is logical!”

“I know you are not property, but Krum must pay!” Tom yelled. “What did he do that I didn’t? What can he give that I cannot? He is just a stupid quidditch player, all he knows is how to ride a broom. I am smarter, better, more powerful than he can possibly imagine, so why Harry did you have to cheat on me with that disgusting idiotic barbarian of a bastard!?”

Harry gave a scoff, “You really want to know?” he asked darkly. “Fine. He gave me time, Tom. As simple as that. Time! I was never put to the side. I never had to fight against a door or a pile of papers for his attention—no, all I had to do was sit down next to him, and we were together. And it was brilliant Tom, let me tell you. We talked. It was never planning, or scheming, or fighting, or begging. Just talked about whatever the hell we wanted to talk about. The weather, the tournament, quidditch, my friends—oh yeah, he also hung out with me and my friends! Imagine that, Tom, being with your boyfriend’s friends and not scaring them or talking about stuff like loyalty or killing and torturing their parents! That must be such a wild thing for you to think of, isn’t it? We were normal teenagers when we were together Tom, normal teenagers worrying about normal things! It was never domination or wars with him but homework and broom lessons! And I loved it! I love feeling normal around him! I love feeling like I can tell him anything and everything, I love that I can just say what’s on my damn mind and it can turn into hours and hours of talking! But you? With you, ever since the damn beginning, I had to think of what I have to say to you to get the best reaction! And god forbid I try to hold a secret from you! Did you know I’ve hurt Bulstrode even after you told me not to? Yeah, I did. Draco and I pranked her good. Let’s see, oh yeah, I’ve made snakes give me their fangs which I used to sneak into her pocket and her potion causing it to explode in her face. If she had a serious reaction, it would have been just a terrible accident. And I did not tell you at all. Why? Because I was scared that you would punish me for doling out justice. That you would hurt me or Draco for doing what was right! What needed to happen against that disgusting, odious, foul-mouthed girl who made Daphnis’ life a living hell! But no, let’s not get my boyfriend involved. After all, her father can still be useful and we don’t want to harm any relations that the great and powerful Dark Lord Voldemort has, do we!?

“No! Let’s not! After all, the war we’ve been waging on for years is much more important than the person we apparently call husband! Hell, you said that I’m not a replacement for Adrian but that could be all a fucking lie, huh? We have the same nickname after all, and you’ve done a whole lot more for Adrian, I should know, your own damn diary told me! I saw how soft you were, how loving, how you took strides to make Adrian feel happy, and here we are, and I have to fucking fight to spend a fucking minute with you during the two months we have together! Do I feel guilty over what I did with Viktor? Yes! The same day we kissed I realized it was a mistake and I called it off, but I will not lie when I say that I wasn’t worried about your reaction or that it didn’t feel good. It felt perfect Tom, absolutely perfect. He held me like he always wanted to hold me, not because he had to, and he hugs me, Tom, just because he wants to. When was the last time you’ve done that? Not because you felt like it, but because you just felt like hugging me. Even tonight, was it because you wanted to? Was it because you love me? Or is it just because you felt like you had to? Like doing this, interrupting the ball and everything you did to my body was all out of a feeling of obligation?”

Harry was panting by the time he was done. His eyes stung with tears that fell freely but neither moved to clean them. His hands were clenched at the sides, and he stood rigid, as though bracing himself against the wind or whatever Tom would throw at him. Tom stared at Harry, his face still that calmness that Harry despised whenever he was angry at Tom.

Then, quite suddenly, Tom fell to his hands and knees. His body shook and Harry heard a low moaning sound like an animal’s heart breaking. Harry felt horrible and yet he felt a validation that was long due as he watched Tom cry in front of him. He just watched as Tom cried. He had no fancy speech or prepared response. No actions or magic to weave, Tom was just breaking down in front of Harry, releasing what Harry assumed were decades of emotions being locked deep inside him. Bringing through a humanity long thought lost, but now is flooding out of his handsome features.

Time went on, and Harry’s sadness slowly outgrew his validation and schadenfreude. He stepped towards Tom and got on his knees. He hesitated before touching Tom’s shoulder. Tom flinched before moving towards Harry, crying into his chest as he moved into a fetal position at Harry’s legs. Harry moved so that they were both comfortable. Tom continued to cry as Harry rubbed his back.

“Failure.”

It was so soft that Harry could barely hear Tom. He leaned down closer to the man who owned his heart. “I’m a complete failure,” Tom whispered.

Harry’s heart wretched. “No, you’re not,” he whispered.

“I am, you’ve said it so yourself,” Tom said. His voice was hoarse, and Harry knew that it was a long time since he cried. “I tried to be the man you wanted me to be. Your caregiver, your master, your boyfriend, your husband—so many roles Harry. I foolishly thought I could easily change between them, like slipping on a mask. But it was just too much in the end. I do not know what I am doing, Harry.”

Tom continued to wail, and Harry sat transfixed, only able to rub Tom’s back as he let out decades’ worth of tension that built inside him. Harry wanted to console Tom, but the only words that came out of his mouth were hushed and “You’re not a failure.”

He didn’t know how he ended up like this. They were screaming just a moment ago, Harry was screaming, full of rage that just washed away the moment Tom started to cry. Tom continued to cry and Harry continued to hold him, hushing the older man all the while.

“I’m still angry at you,” Harry whispered once the worse of Tom’s tears had slowed down.

“I know,” Tom muttered, “I don’t expect anything else.”

“But I still love you,” Harry continued, “but I can’t forgive you instantly Tom.” Tom just nodded against Harry’s chest before looking up at him. “I, we need to have that talk,” Harry continued. “And not scream at each other.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Tom muttered, “but can we do this someplace more comfortable than a forest?”

“Where?”

“Home,” Tom whispered. “Okay,” Harry whispered back. The two got to their feet, holding onto each other. Tom took the lead and pulled Harry towards the shacks, where, opposite of them all, a new shack stood. It was half in shadows, but still looked just as abandoned and old as all the others, its door standing strangely strong, however. Tom reached for the handle and grasped it tightly. Harry felt the magic moving around them before he turned and the door opened into Tom’s study, miles away.

They walked inside, the door closing behind them. Harry barely glanced behind him as Tom brought him to a loveseat and they both sat down. Still holding hands, the two stared at each other in silence. “How do we begin?” Tom asked.

Harry sighed and thought for a moment. “I think we should just talk?” he suggested. Tom nodded and they both sighed. “What do you mean?” Harry began, “When you said you’re a failure? And that you’re trying to be too many people to me?”

“Exactly that,” Tom admitted after a moment’s silence. “I’m a failure. I cannot be who you want me to be.”

“But that’s not true,” Harry said. “Tom, all I ever want you to be, all you ever need to be, is yourself.”

Tom chuckled, “And who exactly am I, Harry? Your boyfriend? Your mentor? Your Master?”

Harry frowned in thought, “Does it matter?” he asked. “You’re you, Tom Riddle. The feared Dark Lord and the man I love. I’m not going to pretend that our relationship is normal, but honestly, I don’t care. I mean, I would like the normal relationship stuff, dates, you being here, and actually showing that you love me and getting along with my friends. But, I guess, I just want you. I’m jealous of the effort you gave Adrian. I’m jealous that you two grew up together, that you two were able to act like teenagers in love together, and we can’t have that. I had to grow up fast, first because of the Dursleys but also… also so I could keep up with you.”

“What do you mean?” Tom asked. “I never thought I rushed you to grow up, Harry.”

“Not intentionally, I’m sure,” Harry said, smiling softly. “Learning magic from you, always talking about how you’re going to be my husband, I guess I forced myself to grow up or felt I needed to in order to keep your attention.” Tom frowned but said nothing. “I know you never said anything about it, but it’s how I feel. I’m sorry.”

“If I ever pressured you in feeling you need to act beyond your age, I’m sorry,” Tom said carefully. “It was never my intention. And Harry, I have never used you or seen you as a replacement for Adrian, I want you to know that.”

“I know that,” Harry said, “I’m sorry, I was angry and frustrated and—I just want us to be together, you know? I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, Harry,” Tom admitted. “That is why I worked tirelessly for this, for our own special door. It was wrong of me to treat you the way I have during the summer. I know that my words might have a little effect, but I swear I will let my actions prove how sorry I am for the way I’ve been treating you. You are my world, Harry, and I will walk my penance for all eternity just for you.”

“You, you don’t need to do that,” Harry muttered. “But I want to feel loved Tom, I want to see you making a real effort.”

“And I promise you I will,” Tom said, “and here is my commitment,” he lifted Harry’s hand lightly, kissing it, and looked up at Harry, who blushed.

“Thank you, Tom,” Harry whispered. “I’m sorry for the kiss.”

Tom sighed and looked up at Harry, “I want to tell you how I will return to the public,” he said. “It is all planned out, my reunion and coming out.”

“How is it going to happen?” Harry asked, sounding a little excited.

“With the death of a Champion. The Triwizard Cup will be a portkey, leading them to the graveyard near home. There I shall torture them in front of our followers before sending their body back to Hogwarts, burned with the Dark Mark.”

“No,” Harry said, sounding scandalized. “I will not allow you to even think about harming Viktor or Cedric! That is out of the question.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Harry huffed. “Two of the champions are my friends, and I refuse to even let you dream of harming them.”

“Then what should I do?” Tom demanded. “How shall we show the world that the feared Dark Lord is back if not killing an innocent?”

Harry thought for a moment. He wanted to save his friends and yet he felt that Tom needed someone to kill. Perhaps this would be a chance to get what they both wanted. “Barty,” he said with a moment of realization. “We can use him.”

“And how exactly will we use him?” Tom asked, raising an eyebrow.

“He’ll kidnap me obviously,” Harry said, shrugging. “If he kidnaps me, and brings the real Moody to the graveyard, then we both would have some fun. I can kill the man in front of your follows, maybe for stealing me or roughing me up, and then you get to kill Moody. We’ll do the same as we did during my first year and make up a story about his death. I can return with both bodies and scream that you are back and Moody died protecting me from his imposter.”

“You want to kill my follower?”

“You want to kill my friend,” Harry shrugged, “and my friends are worth more than that disgusting bastard.”

Tom looked thoughtful as he considered the new plan. “Very well,” he said. “I will spare Viktor Krum for now, however, know if he tries to touch you again, I will rain my vengeance upon him.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded.

“Good, and now that business is done,” Tom chuckled. He quickly moved, pressing his body against Harry’s, “I think we can have some more pleasure,” he purred. “I need to make your body forget every sensation of the Bulgarian’s touch.” He kissed Harry deeply, and the teen melted under the man he loved.

Chapter Text

Chapter 56

Loose Ends

It was after midnight when the two returned to Hogwarts, the door of the fifth shack closing behind them. Harry was holding Tom’s hand and bit his lip. “We should talk with Viktor,” he said, “but you have to promise me you will not hurt him.”

“I will try my best,” Tom said. Harry felt that would be the best Tom could promise so accepted it. Harry kept his grip on Tom’s hand tight as they returned to the Slytherin dormitory through the shack. From there, it was an easy task of slipping through the dungeons and out into the grounds.

Older couples littered the grounds, and so Harry and Tom were able to blend with them as they slowly made their way to the Durmstrang ship. As they got closer to the ship, Harry saw a figure sitting by the edge. He was blurry at first in the night, however soon he gasp when the figure came into view. “There!” he said and pulled Tom towards Viktor. “Viktor!”

Krum stood up and turned towards them. “Harry!” he said, “I was worried when you were taken away—hello Riddle,” Viktor said when they stepped up to him. He rubbed the back of his neck, “I take it that you both made up?”

“Yes. No help from you, Krum,” Tom said, his voice filled with malice. Harry nudged him and he glared at the both of them. “I mean, I’ve heard that you and my Harry were… close. However, now I have a way to see him anytime I want to.”

“We uhh talked about the kiss,” Harry said awkwardly.

“Oh,” Viktor said shortly. “Riddle, I’m sorry, I had no idea that Harry was your boy at the time. However, we cleared it up the same night.”

“So I heard, still it should not have happened in the first place,” Tom growled out. His free hand curled into a fist as his grip on Harry’s hand tightened. Harry reached to hold his other hand. “Still, it has caused me to realized a few… flaws I have, though I must emphasize few.”

“Of course,” Viktor said slowly. “You should know then that Harry and I are just friends, and I was planning on helping him talk with you after tonight. You really hurt him, Riddle. Especially after you didn’t answer his letters.”

“I had plans to come here, I figured that it would be better to surprise my love,” Tom answered. “A surprise that did not play out.”

“No, it did not,” Harry muttered.

“It is late,” Tom said. “I just thought to give you fair warning, you will be seeing much more of me around here. So pray, do not think of repeating your… mistake.” He kissed Harry’s cheek and glared at Krum before turning and leaving, walking towards the forbidden forest. Harry sighed and turned bashfully towards Viktor.

“I’m happy that you and Riddle seem to be together but I don’t know if this is the right move,” Viktor admitted.

“Me neither,” Harry replied, “but it’s a step forward. One of our things is that we just don’t communicate. Both because of Hogwarts and we just have these plans that get us lost in our heads… Tom’s head. We have a lot to work out, but we promised to do it. I love him, and he loves me, but we need to figure out what that actually means.”

Viktor laughed and slapped his hand on Harry’s back. “Are you sure you’re only fourteen?” he asked. “You sound more like a wise young man than a teenager!”

Harry gave Viktor a Cheshire grin, “I’m full of surprises,” he said ruefully, “and I may have threaten to duel him if he makes me angry again. I’m wicked powerful, you know.”

“I have no doubt on that, my friend,” Viktor chuckled. “It’s a shame though, we only had one dance. Tell me, did you and Tom dance?”

Harry’s cheeks turned red and he looked down at his feet, “Kind of,” he said, and that only set Viktor’s laughter off again. He patted Harry’s back and congratulated him before saying that they should probably go to bed. Harry agreed and made his way back to the dungeons.

As soon as he entered, however, a thought crossed his mind and he smirked as he tapped his wand on the doorknob twice and opened the door once more. He stepped into the ritual grounds and walked across to the fifth shack that seemed to hum under his touch. He opened it and stepped into Tom’s study. From there, it was a quick trip to his and Tom’s bedroom where he found the older man laying down, “Miss me already?” he asked.

“The dorms were too crowded,” Harry said as he disrobed and pulled on pajamas from Tom’s dresser. “And I want a dance, a proper dance, with you tomorrow morning. Maybe with music I like?”

Tom smiled as he made room for Harry, “I would like nothing better.”

The next morning, Harry woke up early. It was a beautiful boxing day, from outside the windows Harry could see the sun shining on a fresh blanket of snow. He wanted to do something special, as well as have an excuse to talk to Tom more and push off returning to Hogwarts. So he went down to the kitchens still dressed in Tom’s pajamas where the house-elves were already busy cooking. “Leave, I’ll do the cooking this morning,” Harry said sweetly to them. They bowed and left.

Harry took stock of what the house-elves have done, which seemed to have just been cleaning the kitchen and prepping it for cooking. Realizing he has full control, Harry smiled and thought for a moment what he would want for breakfast as he took stock of what they had. Pancakes, his mind went. Big, fluffy American-styled pancakes. He waved his wand at a nearby radio and hummed along to the music that played softly. Harry quickly lost himself to his task, moving with the music as he made his and Tom’s breakfast.

He felt hands on his side and jumped, “Feeling excited, Harry?” Tom chuckled. Harry turned around and smiled at Tom.

“I just wanted to do something,” he said. Tom buried his head in Harry’s shoulder and inhaled deeply as he kissed Harry’s neck. Harry turned around and the two stood like that, Harry cooking as Tom peppered his neck with kisses. It was nice, in Harry’s mind, however, it also felt weird. Too comfortable. Too fast. As though their fight and entire argument has never happened. “Tom?”

“Yes, love?” Tom hummed against his neck, giving a rather harsh kiss, his teeth scraping against the skin.

Harry sighed, “Sit down, it’s almost ready.”

“I rather have this for breakfast,” Tom said as he kissed Harry once more, his hand snaking down to grab Harry’s butt. Harry steeled himself and frowned.

“Tom, please,” he said. “Too soon.”

Harry felt Tom stop and awkwardly move away from him. “Harry,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry, but please,” Harry said, “It’s too weird. Especially after last night.”

Tom sighed, “Fine, I’m sorry,” he apologized and moved to sit down at the table. Harry turned around before things could get even more awkward and said, “I still want to dance, if you want to,” he said. Tom smiled.

They ate in peace, the pancakes being naturally delicious and Harry beamed when Tom complimented his cooking. Then, the two moved to the drawing-room where Tom lazily waved his hand around. The furniture moved, giving them ample space, and the record player started playing music that Harry liked. Tom gave a low bow and smiled at Harry as he offered his hand. Harry accepted it and Tom pulled him chest to chest.

The two stared into each other’s eyes, a soft smile gracing their lips as they moved, drifting along with the music as Tom took the lead. Alone in the room, the two danced. It felt wonderful. Harry felt for once that he was able to relax in Tom’s arms, that he was finally acting his age as he just danced with his boyfriend.

The music swayed and moved, the two boys moving with it as song after song played. The only stopped before noon and Harry realized that he needed to go back to Hogwarts. “We will see each other later,” Tom promised, kissing Harry deeply. Harry smiled in the kiss and nodded. Still holding his hand, Tom brought Harry to his study where, once the door closed behind them, Tom turned and tapped his wand on the doorknob twice. “I’m always here if you need me, my love,” he promised as the door opened, and with a final kiss Harry left back to Hogwarts.

His friends immediately ambushed Harry that afternoon, determined to squeeze out every single last detail of what happened last night from his dance with Viktor to his disappearance with Tom. “That was him right?” Pansy whispered. “The Dark Lord?”

“Yeah, it was,” Harry nodded. “We… we needed to have honestly a screaming match.”

“And?”

“I’m feeling a little better about all of it,” Harry said, looking around at his friends. “We’re not back at where we were, but I think we’re in a better place. This was something that just needed to happen, if that makes sense.”

“What about Krum?”

“What about him?” Harry asked. “We’re still friends. He…” Harry sighed and looked at his friends. They were in the Slytherin common room, and he felt that in order to bridge him and Tom, he needed to make Tom human. “Tom, my boyfriend, he wanted to hurt Viktor, that was actually a part of our argument, but I told him otherwise.”

“Tom?” Pansy repeated. “Is that really the Dark Lord’s name?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, his eyes looked from Pansy to Draco. “Tom Riddle.” They all looked shocked, except for Draco who just sat back and smirked smugly. Pansy caught this and gasped, slapping his arm. “Ow!”

“You knew!?” she demanded.

“Of course I knew, Harry and I don’t keep secrets,” Draco said arrogantly. “Malfoys know everything.”

“Point being,” Harry said, “Tom and I are on the road to recovery, but I do know some of his plans now, and he will be here more often.”

“How?” Blaise asked.

“There’s now a fifth shack,” Harry smiled softly. “That was one of his big plans. Making the fifth shack at the grounds so that we can always visit each other. Obviously, we need to coordinate so that Tom is never seen by Dumbledore or anyone else who might recognize him, but that would be a simple ruse I think. More importantly, is that he is planning his return by the end of the year.”

The silence over his friends turned tense. He sighed and licked his lips, “We want something different than what he was trying to accomplish, what your parents were trying to accomplished,” Harry said. “At least, I want something different, and I’ll do my all to make sure it happens.”

“What is it you want?” Theo asked.

“A world where we don’t need to hide,” Harry said simply. “I’m not sure on the details yet, but from what I heard there were some more… violent followers. I don’t want them near Tom at all.”

His friends looked around each other and Harry just gave them a smile, “But that’s years from now,” he said. “I mean, we’re only teens, right? Tom wouldn’t expect us to play a huge role in this, if at all.” The others just nodded awkwardly, and Harry smiled widely. He quickly changed the subject away from Tom and Death Eaters, and the rest of the night went along peacefully.

Tom and Harry made frequent use of the fifth shack as the winter months went by. Whenever they could, they would slip to the other for small dates. Outings to Hogsmeade or Little Hangleton, small meals together just the two of them, walks in the Forbidden Forest or on the grounds of Hogwarts. Harry didn’t feel that they were instantly back together to where they were, but it warmed him to see Tom making the effort. To see the older man smile at him warmly and laugh as he told his stories.

January moved by quickly, and on an unusually mild February day, Harry found himself walking to the Quidditch pitch with Viktor Krum. “How are you and Riddle doing?” Viktor asked.

“Better, I think,” Harry said. “We’re seeing each other a lot more, and it’s actually making me feel much happier.”

“That is good—he still isn’t feeling murderous towards me, is he?” Viktor asked.

Harry chuckled, “He knows that we’re friends, so you’re off limits,” he smiled. “But I think he’ll be jealous of our friendship for a long time. He can be a bit… possessive. Sometimes it’s cute but other times it just makes me mad.”

Viktor hummed and nodded, “What are you feeling today?”

“Today… it’s somewhat cute because he pouted when I told him I was going to spend the day with you,” Harry said. “Did you work through that egg by the way?”

“That screaming egg? Actually, yes,” Viktor smirked smugly. “It really is the clue to the second task. It’s a poem, though I can’t understand it. I could only listen to it once I and the egg were underwater.”

“What is it? The poem?” Harry asked. They stopped just inside the quidditch pitch and Krum thought for a long moment.