"Now, my honoured Lords, this next one's a treat," the auctioneer promised, giving an oily smile. "Just three years old, the perfect age to really soak up any training, and unusually magical to boot!"
Harry shook as the assistant shoved him up on the stage in only his old breeches. He wished he could have kept his shirt, it was cold and he didn't like all these men staring at him. He clenched his fist, resisting the urge to adjust the uncomfortable iron collar locked around his neck as Mr Borgin, the auctioneer, played up his 'attributes' to try to milk another few Sickles from the Lords who were buying. He stared at his bare feet instead, scuffing them across the rough boards of the stage as Mr Borgin called out the bids.
"Sold!" Mr Borgin pronounced with a wide smile, and Harry looked up as the assistant yanked him off the stage and dragged him toward the Lord who had bought him. The assistant gave the Lord a grin that was missing teeth.
"Pretty, ain't he, your Lordship?" the assistant leered, unlocking the iron collar before passing Harry over.
The Lord took hold of his shoulder gently, his thumb rubbing softly at the red marks the assistant had left on Harry's upper arm. He sneered faintly, not answering the assistant, and turned on a heel. Harry rushed to keep up with the tall Lord's long strides, guided by the hand on his shoulder. He took them to a rich, pale blue carriage with a crest on the door, helping Harry climb up in before stepping in after him and shutting the door.
Harry looked around in wonder. The seats inside were covered in a soft white fabric and the wood was painted the same pale blue as the outside with touches of gilding.
His roving eyes met the sharp gaze of a black-eyed man already inside, and Harry rushed to lower his head, anxious to avoid punishment. He was a slave after all, he needed to remember his station.
"This is what you chose, Lucius?" the black-eyed man sneered, looking Harry over critically. Harry flushed, feeling very small and dirty next to this man, dressed in black and deep green, and his new Lord, with his rich white robes and pale hair tied back with a silk ribbon.
"I couldn't very well let someone else take him," the Lord replied easily. "He's three, the same age as Draco, and you know how some people treat slaves. Besides, he young enough not to have picked up any unwanted behaviours. You may raise him however you wish."
The black-eyed man just hummed in reply and took out his wand. Harry glanced up, curious despite himself. So few people in the village had enough magic to use a wand with the kind of ease this man displayed. His eyes widened when the man cast without saying any words, the mark of someone educated in magic. Harry's skin tingled and itched for a second, and he realised that the man had just cast some sort of spell to clean the dirt off him. Thankful, Harry gave a wobbly bow, like the slave-traders had taught him.
"Sit, boy," the Lord urged, patting the bench beside him. Harry sat, eyes still downcast, and the Lord gave the signal for the driver to go. "What's your name?"
"Harry P-" he began, then caught himself before he blurted out the name his Aunt had told him never to say again. "Harry Evans," he corrected, missing the look that passed between the two men at his almost-admission.
"Well, Harry," the Lord continued as though his slip hadn't happened, "I am Lord Lucius Malfoy, of Wiltshire, and this is my physician Severus Snape." He paused as Harry murmured a polite greeting. "You will be Severus' charge. He will take care of you, and you will be his assistant, and perhaps one day his apprentice."
"Yes, my Lord," Harry said, clinging desperately to the few etiquette rules the slave-traders had taught him.
Lord Malfoy reached over and grasped his chin gently, raising Harry's eyes to meet his own astonishingly silver ones. "Don't worry, Harry, no one's going to beat you," he promised. "Severus may be strict, but as long as you follow his rules, he won't have any reason to punish you. Besides," he added, dropping his voice and giving a conspiratorial grin, "he's really a big softie inside."
Harry pressed a hand over his mouth to cover his smile, but a brief giggle slipped out. Severus scowled, but Harry could see the hidden amusement in his dark eyes, and it made him feel much better about being a slave. Everything would be alright, as long as he was with these men. He liked Lord Malfoy especially. No one had ever been so nice to him before, and definitely not anyone who owned him like he would a cloak or a horse.
Harry dozed off during the ride, and Lord Malfoy arranged him to lay on the wide cushioned bench with his head on a little pillow. He woke when the carriage jerked to a stop, signalling their arrival at Malfoy Manor.
Jumping down from the carriage, Harry stared up at the castle open-mouthed. It was the biggest thing he'd ever seen, all painted white, made all the bigger by comparison to his tiny stature. Sunlight glinted off the glass windows of the Keep proper, and Harry could see guards passing by the open slits in the walls of the towers. There were more guards, dressed in navy blue with their armour shining in the sun, patrolling the top of the wall and on the crenelated rooftop.
"Welcome home, Harry," Lord Malfoy said, laying a hand on his shoulder again. "Come, there are a few things we must do before you go off with Severus to your rooms."
Exhausted by the long day and the sheer number of sudden changes in his life, the rest of the day was a bit of a blur to Harry. He was fitted with a flexible leather collar bearing the Malfoy family crest and its motto, the French phrase 'Honneur à la magie,' which he was told meant 'Honour in Magic.' Harry was happy to find that the soft inside of the collar didn't pinch or rub like the iron collar had. After the collar, he was given the traditional slave's mark, a tattoo of their owner's family crest in the space between their shoulder blades. It hurt, but Harry kept back his tears and Lord Malfoy said he was proud of him for it. Then he was given a pair of soft boots, a few pairs of trousers made of canvas and a couple linen shirts. The fabric was undyed and a bit rough, but sturdy, and the clothes were well made.
Harry drifted off to sleep in a single bed in a room all his own next to Severus', and he thought that being a slave was turning out to be much better than living free with the Dursleys.
-0-
Harry fought the urge to scuff his toes as he waited, watching Severus inspect the shelves. He had taken all the little identical pots off and mixed them up before telling Harry to put them all back in alphabetical order. At five years old, Harry knew his reading skills weren't perfect, and sometimes it was hard to read Severus' spidery handwriting, but he thought he had done pretty well.
Severus reached the end and turned to Harry, his face unreadable, and Harry swallowed hard. Then the man's lip quirked. "Almost, Harry," he said. "You've put wormwood before wolfsbane." He plucked two pots out of the line and switched them. "You're getting very good," he praised, and Harry smiled shyly, looking down.
"Thank you, sir."
"Harry, you don't need to call me sir in our rooms," Severus reminded. "I think that's all for your morning lessons," he added. "Go ahead and finish your chores, and then you can go play in the yard."
Harry nodded again, rushing to put away the slate, chalk and scrolls they used for his morning lessons before he washed up their breakfast dishes and put those away too. His morning lessons were on reading and writing. Sometimes Severus was busy, like that morning, and gave him a task to do on his own that he checked over afterward, but usually they worked together. Harry's afternoons were spent doing chores, the occasional odd task in the manor kitchen or garden, and playing in the yard. He helped the servants take the guard their middays and then stayed with them while they ate, cleaning up and listening to the stories they liked to tell him. Afterward he went to a corner of the yard where he could watch the new recruits being trained until it was time for dinner. He ate dinner with Severus, cleaned up, and then had his evening lessons, which were on potions and healing and usually revolved around whatever Severus was working on at the time.
Racing through the manor halls to the kitchen, where they would be ready to send out the guards' middays, Harry skidded around a corner and ran smack into Lord Malfoy.
"Oh!" he gasped, wobbling backwards and dropping into the proper kneeling position, head down and hands in his lap. "My apologies, my Lord. I should have been more careful."
"No harm done, Harry," Lord Malfoy replied, gesturing for him to stand. "I'd like you to meet Remus Lupin, my new archivist." He placed a hand on the shoulder of the sandy-haired man beside him. "Remus, if you have an odd jobs that need done, feel free to call on Harry. He's quite an eager little helper." Harry looked over at Remus, giving the man a shy smile.
Green eyes met amber, and Remus gasped, staggering. "Harry?" he whispered, reaching out a hand that hovered just over the wild black hair Harry never could comb flat. "Harry Potter?"
It was Harry's turn to step back now, eyes wide and a hand slapped over his mouth. Who was this man? How could he know that name? Harry hadn't told anyone since his Aunt had sold him! Fearful eyes flicking between Remus' shock expression and Lord Malfoy's curious, guarded one, Harry spun on his heel and ran.
He was hiding behind a sword rack in the arsenal when he was found. Sirius Black, captain of the guard, reached back a dragged him out, firmly but not harshly. He grinned down at the small boy, eyes dancing with mischief. "I knew it."
"Knew what?" Harry croaked.
"Knew you were his son," Sirius replied breezily. He tried to usher him outside, but Harry shook his head and refused to move. Sighing, he crouched and tossed the boy over his shoulder instead. "You look just like your father, you know that? Except for your eyes. You must have your mother's eyes."
"You know my father?" Harry asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
"I knew him, yeah." Sirius plunked him down on a bench in the corner of the yard and sat down beside him. "Lord James Potter, a minor Lord of Dorset. He died in that plague outbreak four years ago. He was the last of the main Potter line. Some cousin came in and took over the estate, a Longbottom I think, and brought his own household. That's why I came here," he explained. "As for you, I bet he met your mother on one of his trips to London and they, um, had a bit of a fling."
"Were they married?" Harry asked, knowing that marriage was important for children and legitimacy.
"No," Sirius shook his head. "Sorry, kid."
Harry nodded. "I'm an orphan and a bastard," he stated. It wasn't a question, but Sirius nodded anyway. "And a slave."
"Ah," Sirius smirked suddenly, "see, that's the complicated part. You're the last Potter now. You have noble blood, and Lord Malfoy doesn't really feel comfortable keeping a noble, even a bastard, as a slave." Harry stared at him, and Sirius chuckled. "I'm going to raise you to be part of the guard instead. Lots of illegitimate and disowned noble children end up in the guard. Like me."
Harry stared at his hands in his lap silently, taking it all in. He was the bastard son of a now-dead Lord, though that didn't mean much to him at five years old. He wasn't going to be a slave anymore, he was going to be part of the guard. He wasn't going to be Severus' assistant anymore. Was he free now, or just some sort of servant/guard-in-training? Could he still have lessons with Severus, or help in the kitchen and gardens?
"I know it's a lot to take in," Sirius said, "but don't worry. Nothing's going to change too much yet. You'll still live with Severus and do your chores and all, but you'll have lessons with one my guards now too, either during midday or when the recruits are trained, I think, and you won't have to wear that collar anymore."
Harry's hands rose to clutch at the collar. After two years of wearing it, he hardly noticed it anymore. Except when it got wet, he remembered, thinking of the way the cold, clammy leather would stick to his neck for hours.
"Can I go back to Severus now?" he whispered, still in shock.
"Sure, kid." Sirius ruffled his head. "Go on."
-0-
Twisting his spine, Harry studied the new tattoo in his small mirror. The rearing lion lay to the right side of his abdominal muscles, stretching from the top of his trousers to just below his right pectoral, its tail curving around his side. The ink was deep black and the lines sharp, unlike the dark grey of the crest on his back, just starting to go fuzzy at the edges. Harry twisted even further to look at his slave's mark and sighed.
"What on earth have you done to yourself now?" a sharp voice asked acidly from the doorway.
Harry spun around, smiling sheepishly when faced with Severus' glare. "Like it?" he asked weakly.
Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Magic save us from sixteen-year-old boys," he muttered. "I suppose next you'll tell me that everyone in the guard has one?"
Harry smirked. "You should see Podmore's chest."
"I believe I'll pass." He pointed imperiously to the bed. "At least let me check for infection."
Harry sat and Severus crouched, casting a general diagnostic spell. When it turned up clean, he peered at the skin closely, running cool fingertips over the lines and making Harry twitch. "You've put runes in this," he murmured, studying the symbols Harry had worked into the design.
"Yeah, a few for protection, healing and luck," Harry replied. "They aren't spells, there's no extra magic in them, but they have enough magic of their own to do a little help."
Severus pursed his lips and stood. "Very well," he said, and Harry knew him well enough to know that it was as much approval as he was going to get. It was really the runes he approved anyway. He was very fond of Harry and disliked the idea of him being injured in the guard.
-0-
"Severus!" Harry shouted, kicking open the hall door. He dragged Sirius' limp body with him, injured arm thrown over his shoulder. The man had lost his hand in the skirmish, and Harry had the tightest grip he could muster on Sirius' forearm, just above the wound, to keep him from bleeding out.
Severus immediately rushed forward from his place in the back of the hall. The advisors seated around the table jumped up in shock, as did Lord Malfoy. His son, Draco Malfoy, who was Harry's age, stared in horror.
"What has happened?" Malfoy demanded.
Supporting Sirius' weight and still serving as a tourniquet, Harry could only incline his head in respect to his Lord. "Raiders, my Lord," he answered. "An outlying patrol reported signs of a camp beyond the outer village. We've captured them all, my Lord, except the ones killed in the fighting. Sirius is our only real casualty. As far as I can tell, he took a bad step and a raider caught him just right."
"And that particular raider?" Malfoy asked smoothly, raising an eyebrow.
Harry met his silver eyes briefly, showing his understanding of the question. "Is not among the prisoners, my Lord."
Malfoy nodded sharply and strode past him to the yard, dismissing his advisors with a gesture. Harry could still feel eyes on him and looked around to see Draco Malfoy staring at him intently. "What about you?" he asked suddenly.
"My Lord?" asked Harry, not understanding.
Draco walked toward him slowly. "You said Captain Black was your only real casualty, but you're injured as well." He pointed to Harry's shoulder, the one Sirius wasn't leaning against, and Harry looked down. His navy blue tunic was torn and dark with the blood seeping from a large gash across his collarbone.
"Oh."
"How old are you, guardsman?"
Harry wasn't surprised the noble didn't know his name. "Seventeen, my Lord." Draco looked surprised, like he couldn't believe this guard was the same age he was. Harry wondered if Draco thought he was older or younger. Older would be more flattering.
"I've stopped the bleeding," Severus grunted, jerking both teen's attention to him. He tapped Harry's hand sharply. "Take him to my workroom."
Harry released his tight grip, blood rushing back into his fingertips, and bent quickly to sweep Sirius up into his arms. Severus arranged his newly-shortened arm so it lay over his stomach and swept out of the hall. Adjusting his grip with a grunt, Harry followed. He could feel Draco's eyes on his back all the way out of the hall.
-0-
"Um, my Lord called for me," Harry told the guards at the door to the throne room as he surrendered his sword. They were both seasoned veterans who had been in the guard probably as long as Harry had been alive, at the tender age of eighteen. The senior guardsman, Sturgis Podmore, he of the elaborately tattooed chest, smirked at him.
"Yeah, we know." He exchanged a look with his partner, a man named Gibbons, as they opened the doors. "Go on through, Potter," he prompted with a wink.
Confused, Harry stepped through the doors and walked as confidently as he could toward the three thrones on the dais. He stopped at the appointed place, about ten feet away, and dropped to his knees, bowing his head and clasping his hands in the way slaves should.
"Harry Potter," Lord Malfoy greeted, giving Harry permission to raise his head. Harry looked up as the Lord stood, a smile on his face. He signalled for him to stand up. "I have good news for you."
"My Lord?"
Malfoy waved a hand to the guardsmen flanking the thrones at the back of the dais. "I have been speaking with my most trusted, most experienced members of the guard. With Captain Black unable to fight anymore, my guard needs a new captain, does it not?"
"Yes, my Lord," Harry answered when he paused.
"The guards that I spoke to, each and every one, have all agreed on one person to be their captain." The Lord's smile widened. "You."
"Me, my Lord?" Harry gasped. Malfoy nodded once. "My Lord, you honour me."
"It is an honour well deserved," Malfoy replied. He held out a hand, and a page rushed to give him a small scroll. "Now, I have here your slavery contract, which it occurs to me that I never formally released you from."
Harry swallowed hard, confused and worried.
With a smirk, Malfoy unrolled the scroll and held it up. "Harry Potter, you have served me well and faithfully in all that I have asked," he said and ripped the parchment down the middle. "I declare you free."
"Thank you, my Lord," Harry choked out, eyes watering. Lady Malfoy, a beautiful woman with golden hair and blue eyes seated to her husband's left, smiled kindly at him, and Draco regarded him with curiosity.
At another hand gesture from Lord Malfoy, a page stepped forward to clasp the long, blue captain's cloak over his shoulders and hang a new hand-and-a-half sword on his belt, adjusting the cloak so the sword could be seen.
When the page stepped back, Harry unsheathed the sword and slid to one knee, pressing his right hand in a fist over his heart. He still remembered the oath guardsmen made to their Lord and adjusted it to his new rank. "Lord Malfoy, I swear by my heart and my sword to serve and protect, truly and faithfully, with steel, magic and heart, as captain of the guard."
Coming forward and placing his hand over Harry's left on the pommel of the sword, Lord Malfoy replied, "Serve me well, Captain Potter, and serve my family."
That night, only the men with dawn patrols stopped drinking before they passed out.
-0-
"Lord Slytherin is to receive every courtesy due to a guest in this manor," Malfoy proclaimed, "but he will receive no more than that. My father might have supported him once, but my father has been dead these twenty years. I am Lord Malfoy of Wiltshire now, and I have no intention of supporting his foolish ideals."
Murmuring swept through the advisors, but they all nodded. Standing in the shadows behind Lord Malfoy's chair, Harry silently approved. As captain of the guard, Harry was present at all of the Lord's meetings and general assemblies. He had heard a number of disturbing things about the rogue Lord, the man who called himself Voldemort Lord Slytherin, and his misguided attempt to overthrow the King. As King, Lord Albus Dumbledore had held Britain together without civil war, a feat generations had thought impossible, and every county thrived in the peacetime.
Harry stepped forward as Malfoy dismissed the advisors and beckoned him closer. "Yes, my Lord?"
"I have heard multiple reports of an…unpleasant rumour surrounding Slytherin," Malfoy said. "Each report unfortunately bearing some truth. It seems most of Slytherin's supporters are coerced by threats against their heirs." He fixed Harry with a serious look. "I will not have anything of the sort happen to Draco."
"Of course, my Lord," Harry replied, angry at the very thought that this would-be usurper would ever harm any of the Malfoys.
"I know that there are some matters in the guard that require your attention, but I want you to protect Draco yourself," the Lord ordered. "You are the captain, the very best I have, and nothing less will ease mine or my Lady wife's mind. Understand?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Good." Lord Malfoy relaxed, leaning back in his chair again. "A room has been prepared for you, as part of Draco's suit. My son prefers not to live with a servant, so the room is empty at the moment. I would like you to be moved in by nightfall. Adjust your schedule this afternoon and have your second take over your regular duties. I will not have you leaving Draco's side while this…man is in the manor."
"Understood, my Lord." Harry bowed, fist over his heart, and was dismissed. As he swept from the hall, captain's cloak flowing out behind him, his mind was already full of changes to the duty roster.