Scorched Earth Policy
By Terra
Disclaimer: I have reached a new low. I am writing a fic about a fic so I don't even own the original characters. Harry Potter related characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Aidan and Chloe belong to Caitlyn and I'm just borrowing her universe for a second. I promise to return it mostly intact. The Muggle-borns are my invention. Enjoy.
Prologue
"I think not a single peace-loving state could decline a peace treaty with a neighboring state even though the latter was headed by such fiends and cannibals as Hitler and Ribbentrop…"-Joseph Stalin, to the Soviet People, in his speech commanding them to begin "scorched earth" policy, on July 3, 1941.
*** ***
Summer was in full bloom for both the Wizarding World and Muggle World. Harry Potter did not know what to expect from the former residence of his now-incarcerated enemy but there was only one way to find out. He Apparated on to the front lawn of the site of his adopted daughter's torture.
It had been 3 years since he had last set foot on the property. At the time, he had been overcome with fury and worry over his daughter's state since Draco Malfoy had taken her. There, she had been trapped in a dungeon and only by the good grace of sympathetic House Elves was she fed. Draco Malfoy had planned to kill her. Harry had eventually found her at the bottom of a long staircase, knocked unconscious because Draco thrown her down there after Harry and his friends had arrived. At his trial, Draco had pleaded insanity but the judge had not been merciful. Draco was sent to Raveneux Mental Institution, which the judge called "jail with padded walls", to be in solitary confinement until he gave up the "I am Lord Voldemort" business and was no longer a threat to society. In addition, the Malfoy property was given to Harry Potter; he had turned it into a Muggle-born Wizarding home where every care would be provided, with the remaining Malfoys, Pansy and Aidan, as servants.
This is why he had returned to the property. He wanted to see Aidan Malfoy. Last August, Harry had received a letter from one of the residents detailing life at the Manor. In it, the girl, named Lucinda, had discussed Aidan's transformation from reclusive ghost-like figure to almost being one of them. Harry, of course, was curious about the transformation and wanted to see the results for himself. Had the Manor changed the son of Draco "I Am Lord Voldemort" Malfoy?
He walked up the lawn to the large doors of the manor itself and found the door unlocked. He entered the front hall and noticed his first difference. The air in the hall was different. When he had first come here, the air had a dead quality. The manor seemed cold and devoid of life. Now, the air was warm with scent of passing bodies even though the hall was empty. He could hear laughter floating in from another room and tapping feet ran through a hidden corridor. It was a completely different hall that was rich with memories and life.
"Is young man requiring something?" A tiny voice asked. Harry turned his attention away from the air of the hall to a small house-elf.
"Yes," he answered, "is Mistress Malfoy and Master Malfoy available?"
"Mistress Malfoy is busy. Master Malfoy is in other room. Is Master needing one?"
"Yes, I wish to speak to both of them but I am willing to speak to just Master Malfoy."
"Who is calling?"
"Mister Potter wishes to speak to him."
"He is back soon. Wait here." The elf trotted off to find the elusive Aidan. Harry found himself a bench in the hall (which had not been there before) to sit on while he waited. After a few minutes, two teenagers came speeding into the hall, laughing. A young girl ran after them, obviously in fury.
"That was none of your business, Peter!" The girl fumed.
The taller of the boys answered, "Oh, but you shouldn't have written it in such a public place!"
The shorter boy took a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and read in a falsetto voice, " 'Oh, Roger, I sure that your skills will improve over the summer. You have my absolute confidence that you'll be captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team next year. Paul Evermore doesn't stand a chance against your skills!' Oh, Roger!"
"Stop that! Give it back!" The girl screamed.
"Why don't you give the letter back?" Harry asked, trying not to laugh. The three teens jumped at the new voice and all of them blushed at looking like idiots in front of someone. The shorter boy returned the note to the girl, who immediately pocketed it.
"Say," the girl said, "don't we know you?"
"Yeah," the taller boy said, "I've seen him somewhere too."
"Are you Oliver Wood? The Quidditch star?" The shorter boy asked. Harry shook his head.
"Gee, not Wood? Um... are you the Minister? Percy Whats-his-face?"
Harry chuckled, "No, but I know him. It's Weasley, by the way."
The girl's eyes opened wide and she asked, "You're... not a reporter, are you?"
"You stupid reporters!" The taller boy exclaimed then turned to the smaller boy, "Quick, run to Aidan and warn him."
Harry waved his hands to placate them. "Don't worry, I'm not a reporter. I'm Harry Potter, I own this place."
The three slapped themselves in the forehead. "Right. Harry Potter, that guy," the girl said.
The shorter boy asked, "Uh... what did you do again?"
The taller boy tore at his hair, yelling, "Oh! Oh! I know this one! Give me a minute!"
"It stinks being a Muggle-born at times like this," the girl sighed, "I bet every Wizard we know would know what you did in an instant, Mr. Potter."
"Don't worry," Harry said, "it's nice being somewhere everyone doesn't know you."
"He defeated that guy no one can name!" the taller boy finally shouted, jumping up and down.
"Calm down, Sean," the girl said, "you look like an idiot." The girl turned to Harry and asked, "But why are you here?"
"I came to talk to Aidan and his mother about running this place. Do you like it here?" Harry asked.
They nodded. The boy named Sean said, "It's great. Aidan really throws his heart into running the place."
"It's nice being among like-minded people," the girl replied.
"And not worrying about scaring the Muggle neighbors," the shorter boy, most likely Peter, answered.
"That's good. What does Aidan's mother do?"
The group was silent and found other things to look at. The boy shuffled their feet and the girl fiddled with the cuff of her shorts.
Finally, Peter spoke up, "Uh... I was just thinking that we probably shouldn't interfere with you and Aidan as he shows you around so we best be leaving."
The girl nervously nodded and added, "I mean, I have pounds of homework to do. It was nice meeting you, Mister Potter."
"Yeah, nice seeing you," Sean said as he walked out of the room. Peter also said goodbye and left. The girl turned to go but before she exited the hall, she turned around and said, "Mister Potter, please don't judge Aidan based on his mother. He's nothing like her. He's a good kid after all." With that, she turned away and left the hall.
Harry sat in shock and looked at the floor. Obviously, Pansy had not converted her behavior like her son had. Now he was very interested in finding out how the Malfoy family was faring in their new environment.
"You-you came to-to speak to me?" A tiny voice squeaked in fear. Harry's head snapped up at the voice. A young, blond-haired boy stepped back at the reaction, eyes wide. At first, Harry was confused about the boy's reaction but then it hit him. Aidan was terrified. He shouldn't be surprised; after all, it had been Harry Potter that had put his father away.
Harry stood up and took a better look at his host. Aidan West Malfoy could have not been older than eight years old and was practically a clone of his father. The hair, complexion, and silver colour of the eyes were the same but while Draco's eyes never held anything but either smugness or cruelty; Aidan's was filled with fear and emotional pain. Harry could slightly see Aidan's body trembling. Could he really invoke such fear in one boy?
Harry smiled and held out his hand, saying, "Hello, are you Aidan Malfoy?" The question was rather redundant. Who else could the boy be?
"I am," Aidan replied, apprehensively shaking Harry's hand.
"Do you know who I am?"
"I do," Aidan whispered, his eyes flickering to the scar partially covered by Harry's bangs. "Am I in some sort of trouble?" He looked like a man about to be sentenced to Azkaban.
"No, of course not," Harry replied. Aidan stopped trembling but his eyes remained fearful. It's a start, Harry thought. He continued, answering Aidan's silent question, "I've come to see what you two have done with this place. I've heard many good things about the Manor."
"Do you want a tour?" Aidan blurted out then immediately looked downward in embarrassment.
"Yes, I would like that, Aidan," Harry answered. Aidan's eyes lost some of its fearfulness.
"Well, the best place to start would be the bedrooms of the Muggle-borns here," Aidan mumbled to himself. "It's right upstairs, Mr. Potter." Aidan gestured to the sweeping marble staircase leading upstairs. Aidan started up the stairs first and Harry followed.
Upstairs, the hall had new lanterns along the walls to provide light during the night and sunlight streamed in from the large windows with a railing in front of them. The walls were wooden and doors were evenly spaced apart on the wall without the windows. Aidan turned right at the top of the stairs. "We are heading towards the Female Wing. Here, all the girls' rooms and bathrooms are located. If we had turned left, we would have entered the Male Wing with the boys' rooms and bathrooms." Harry nodded to show Aidan he understood.
All the doors were marked with a colored circle. Most were blue but a few black dots were present on the doors.
"Aidan, what do the circles mean?" Harry asked, stopping at a door with a black circle. Aidan appeared very ashamed at being asked such a question.
"Well, as you know, the Malfoy family is not known for its... openness to outsiders. The early Malfoys feared robbers and enemies entering the house," Aidan explained, "to discourage such people, some rooms were booby-trapped. Also, because of the Malfoy..." Aidan played with his collar as he struggled for words, "fascination with torture devices, many rooms are filled with dangerous objects that people should really avoid. When the Manor became a haven for Muggle-borns, I remembered my father talking about such rooms. I also recalled an instance where I found a room that was booby-trapped and barely came out alive." He paused to let Harry digest the information and then continued, "A month before the students returned from Hogwarts this summer, I went through the entire house and marked every room that was dangerous with a black circle and every room that was safe with a blue circle to prevent accidents."
"How... considerate of you. Did your mother help you with this?" Harry asked, absolutely aghast that Aidan attempted to complete such a task.
Aidan's eyes clouded as he turned away from the door and continued down the hall. "Anyway, the rooms should be close by. Please, follow me, Mr. Potter."
Harry followed the silent Aidan down the hall. Someone avoided my question about Pansy again, he thought, furious. Where was that damn woman anyway?
"Here it is, Mr. Potter, the first of the girls' bedrooms," Aidan presented the room with a wave of his hand. Aidan knocked on the blue-dotted door.
"Who is it?" A young girl's voice called out.
"Aidan. Can I come in?"
"What for?"
"Mr. Potter wants to see the room."
There was a pause, then, "Mr. WHO?"
"Potter, as in Harry Potter."
"Who's that?"
"He owns the place," Aidan called back, silently asking Harry to forgive the mystery girl for her questions.
"Sure. Whatever. Let him in." Aidan opened the door and indicated that Harry step inside. The room had six beds, three by the left and right walls, with pale wooden desks separating the beds. Above the beds were signs reading the names of the young girls who probably occupied the room. A girl with short blonde hair sat at the farthest desk, scribbling furiously with her quill. Beyond the girl, a simple paned window let in light. Above his head, a chandelier hung on a golden chain. Under his feet, the floor was carpeted with a muted reddish brown plush carpet. The bed covers were varied colours.
The girl finally turned her attention away from her homework and greeted Aidan with a smile, "Hey, Aidan, how are you?"
"Fine. This is Sara Limish. She's entering third year," Aidan said as a form of introduction.
"Hufflepuff," Sara explained. She regarded the room. "Nice room, huh, Mr. Potter?"
"It is. Did you decorate the room yourself, Aidan?"
"Yes. But the girls really have the final say. The bedcovers, for example," Aidan said, sitting on the closest bed, "are the girls' favorite colors. I ask for their favorite color on the application and find bedcovers in that color for when they arrive. The boys' rooms are the same way."
"How many girls' are there? Only six?"
Aidan shook his head. "No, an even twelve. The other room is also occupied."
"And the boys?"
"Ten boys total."
Harry paced around the room. "So, are the girls and boys placed in their rooms by year?"
"No. My policy is really just the free bed gets the newest person. The rooms have people from mixed years and Hogwarts Houses."
"Interesting."
"Would you like to see the bathrooms?" Aidan asked. Sara giggled lightly. Aidan looked at her, seemingly hurt.
"Yes, that would be nice, Aidan," Harry answered, knowing that Aidan was supposed to show him every aspect of the Manor, even if Sara didn't.
The tour continued in a similar fashion, with Harry asking Aidan to explain this or that and Aidan politely answering him. Over time, Aidan appeared to relax and even cracked a smile at intervals.
Pansy, Harry did not fail to notice, was still absent during the tour. Whenever he would ask, Aidan would reply, "Busy."
"Busy with what?"
"I don't know. But she's busy."
As they headed towards the dining hall, two teenaged boys came speeding down the hall, armed with broomsticks. One was thin and had curly brown hair while a shorter and stockier blond stomped behind him.
"Hey, Aidan," the brown-haired boy called, "want to play Quidditch?"
The stockier boy grabbed the leading boy's arm to prevent him from crashing into Aidan and Harry. When the thin boy gave his friend an inquiring look, he replied, "Can't you see he's doing something?"
"Oh," the restrained boy replied, "Sorry, Aidan. You can play later, I guess."
"It's alright," Harry said, "I actually was about to suggest that I do a little search on my own." And look for that damned Pansy, he added silently.
Aidan looked torn. "No, I'll show you around. It's okay."
"No, go on. I'm fine," Harry said, trying to placate him. Aidan had a stern sense of duty, obviously.
"Look," the stockier boy said, relieved, "if the Great Harry Potter says you can go, then you should go."
"Who?" the thinner boy asked.
"If you had done your homework already, you would know," the stockier boy retorted.
"Aren't we smart?"
"No, just me."
Aidan smiled. "This is Eric Sevenik and Allen Therbold, both entering seventh year."
"It's nice to meet you both," Harry said. "Now, Aidan, you can go play with them."
Aidan wrung his hands. "Well, if you want me to..."
"I do. Go."
"Well, if you need anything at all, we'll be outside in the back. Don't hesitate. Don't forget about the marked doors either," Aidan reminded, looking very relieved that he no longer had to worry about Harry Potter's wrath.
"Come on, Aidan. Mr. Potter can take of himself," The thin Allen said.
The three boys walked off, rounding a corner on their way to the stairs leading outside. Harry listened as their voices drifted away.
"Can I be a Chaser?" Aidan's voice asked.
"Aidan, you've been that before." Eric's voice replied.
"How about Beater?"
"Aidan, you nearly killed yourself last time you were Beater. Maybe Keeper this time?"
"How about Seeker, Aidan? You've never been Seeker before. You'd be great!" Allen suggested, enthusiastically.
Maybe it was because Aidan was farther away but to Harry, his voice seemed smaller when he answered, "No, I could never be Seeker. Never."
*** ***
"Mistress is busy."
Harry groaned. "I know. I want to see her anyway," he told the fifth House Elf he came across. The last four had skittered away when he mentioned Pansy, claiming, "Much work needed doing."
"But Mistress is busy. No point seeking her. She is busy."
"Busy where?"
"Some other place."
"Is she in the mansion or is she somewhere else?"
"She is in mansion. But busy. Busy in mansion."
He was getting fed up with this mind game. He was going to talk to Pansy even if it was the last thing he ever did. "I want to talk to Mistress Malfoy," Harry repeated slowly.
"Mistress is busy," the Elf replied, just as slow.
"I know she is busy. You've said that, everyone has said that. I don't care how busy she is," he told the House Elf, who was beginning to gnaw at his ear, "I need to speak with her. I need to speak to her now. I doubt that the Mistress will mind if I interrupt her work for a few moments." Actually, he had no doubt in his mind that Pansy would be very angry at being interrupted at whatever the hell she was doing wherever she was.
"Mistress will be angry. Mistress is always angry," the Elf murmured, gnawing on his ear.
"Please, take me to her. That's all I ask."
The House Elf looked up at him with his huge, tennis-shaped eyes and asked, "This very important?"
"Yes."
"Is that order?"
"If you want to believe it's an order, then it is."
The Elf sighed as if Harry was asking to be led off a cliff. "Follow."
The House Elf lead him through a maze of dark corridors and Harry feared that the Elf was leading him in a wild goose chase and did not intend to take him to Pansy. The corridors became darker and the air grew dead and cold as Life shrank back from the memories. This was obviously the wing where the Malfoys had lived, if one can call it living.
Down one hallway, there was one lonely light that had to be manually switched on. The air shivered with guilt and anger. It was like walking into a dementor's path. Even though the walls and floor were spotless, Harry felt like he was walking through grime and filth. Who knew what deeds were done, plots planned, or what murders were mused.
There were six doors on each side, making twelve in all. Ten of the doors were completely unmarked. The last two, hidden in the back like the silent juvenile witness to a parent's murder, were marked. To his left, the door was marked with a blue dot. The door to his right had a huge black dot.
"Mistress is right door. Master is left door," the Elf explained, "Master comes to sleep and see Mistress. That all."
"And the Mistress?"
The House Elf was silent and resumed gnawing on its ear. Seeing that he was not going to get more out of the Elf, he replied, "Thank you for helping me find my way."
"There is work needed doing." With that, the Elf scampered off, leaving Harry behind. For a split second, Harry wanted to run after him, leave the corridor filled with spiritual grime. However, he stayed and turned to the left door.
The left door was unlocked and creaked as he swung it open. It was obvious that Aidan did not visit this room much. The bed covers were shifted to one side, Aidan probably hadn't mastered the art of making the bed. He'll learn, Harry thought. Besides the bed, there was a little play desk that didn't look like it had been used much. There were no bookshelves. There were no sources of amusement, such as toys. There was a wardrobe, which Harry opened and saw rather ordinary clothes hung up. The bedside table held little: a lamp, a clock, tissues, and a comb. He nearly dismissed the box in the corner but it seemed so out of place that it warranted investigation.
The box was rather beat up and scratched. The hinges were rusted and the lock was broken. The lid was light and took no effort for Harry to lift. In the box, however, were books with a sheet of paper on top. These weren't any ordinary books, no, Harry had seen these before.
Every last book was a book of the Dark Arts, seven books in all. They weren't too dangerous as Dark Arts books went. The sheet of paper had been flipped to a blank side so Harry turned to the side with printing:
Aidan's Evaluation of the Dark Arts books
Funny how everything changes in one week. I got these books as an early Christmas present. By the end of the week, Father was gone.
For three years, I have not touched these books. They took everything else but they never bothered to check me. It's too late to turn them in now. Maybe it'll help me understand what Father went crazy for.
When I received the books, I remember, Father told me to write down what I thought of the books to prove I had read them. Why I'm doing that now, I have no clue. Maybe some sense of unfinished business that Father and I have.
The page continued with Aidan's evaluations of the books labeled accordingly. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as each review was filled with confusion and distaste. Aidan did not enjoy his required reading.
Making a mental note to remind Aidan that those books really needed to be put in proper hands, Harry put the books back in the box and left the room.
Now only having the black marked door in front of him, Harry took a deep breath. Let her be busy with paperwork, he prayed, let her be doing something productive.
The doorknob was clammy and covered in sweat. Maybe Aidan did not enjoy his visits? Harry joked to himself. The door was locked but a simple "Alohomara" fixed that problem. Harry opened the door slowly, the hinges whining. Harry winced.
The room was an improvement over Aidan's room with the fact that it had more furniture in it. The room appeared to have once been beautiful but time had taken its toll. The air had a foul stench. The curtains, which completely covered the windows, and the bedclothes, which both appeared to have been once white, were stained a tea color and torn in places. The mirror on the vanity was cracked as if a fist or an object had crashed into it. Cosmetics were scattered haphazardly all over the vanity table and a goo seemed to stain the once-beautiful surface. The carpet was stained with blood and human waste products, which most likely provided the smell. Nothing compared to the amazement Harry felt at the sheer number of full, half-full, and empty wine and liquor bottles. The bottles littered everywhere, alcohol also made its stains on the carpet. The smell of alcohol was sickening when added to the stench of blood, human waste, and obvious smell of someone who had not bathed in a while.
Maybe Pansy was dead. No one could live like this and not notice or do something about it.
A thick, slurred voice came from behind the curtains surrounding the bed. "Is that you, Aidan? What the hell do you want?"
Harry did not know how to respond. He just stood there, silent.
"I know you're out there!" The voice screamed, "Tell me what you want, you bastard, and leave me the hell alone!"
"You shouldn't call your son a bastard," Harry replied.
There was movement behind the curtain and suddenly, the completely intoxicated Pansy Parkinson Malfoy appeared at the corner of the bed. Pansy had lost weight and her skin had a slight yellow tinge. Her hair had become thin and it appeared that some had fallen out. She was shaking violently.
"You," she rasped, her unfocused eyes attempting to fix a steady glare at him, "You bastard! How dare you enter my house!"
"For your information, the law says that this is my house." Harry admitted silently that it was rather crass to point that out, but she was starting to tick him off.
"I don't care about your stupid, Mudblood-loving laws!"
"Look, I came here to inspect the care Aidan and you are providing and it's clear to me that Aidan is..."
"He's just like his father, that bastard! I hate him! I hate them both! I hope Aidan dies! I wish I had never given birth to him, that little bastard! I hope you die! I hope your daughter dies and rots in Hell! I hope everyone rots in Hell!" Pansy gripped the neck of an empty wine bottle at her end of the bed. "Go away! Get out!" She chucked the bottle at Harry's head.
Thankful for his days as Seeker, Harry dodged and watched the bottle smash against the wall. Before Harry could reflect on that, Pansy threw another empty wine bottle at him, barely missing him.
"Get out! Get out! Get out! Go to Hell, you bastard!" Pansy shrieked as she picked up another bottle and threw it at him. Not even pausing, she picked up a liquor bottle and threw that one at him. One after another, bottles went flying towards the former Gryffindor Seeker without stop.
It could have been ten minutes but it felt like an hour when the door slammed open and a bottle flew into the hall.
"Mother, stop it!" Aidan cried, dodging another bottle.
"You bastard! You let him in! You let the Mudblood-loving bastard in!" Pansy, however, dropped the bottle that had been clutched in her hand.
"Mother, I didn't let him into your room. I had no idea he was here," Aidan said, calmly. "I'll make him go away. Would you like him to go away?"
"Of course, you stupid bastard! You stupid, Mudblood loving bastard child! You go away, too!" Pansy screamed. She continued to rant and rage as Aidan, emotionless, took Harry's startled hand, and led him outside.
Once outside the door, Aidan whispered, startled, "I'll get her quiet. Just wait for me in my father's study. Just get out of this wing, grab a House Elf and tell him to take you to Malfoy study." Aidan dropped Harry's hand and rushed into his mother's room, slamming the door behind him.
In a daze, Harry left the wing and quickly encountered the same House Elf from before, gnawing on his ear. Upon seeing Harry, he looked relieved.
"Sir is safe. Master take care of Mistress now."
Harry, however, did not feel better at the thought of Aidan with his mother alone. "Will he be alright?"
"Master not dead before."
Finding no other alternative, Harry asked, "Can you show me the Malfoy study?"
The House Elf led him to a less dismal wing and showed him the blue-marked door labeled, "Draco's Study". The Elf scampered off, leaving Harry alone.
Harry looked again at the sign. It is rather pointless, he thought, having it be Draco's Study when he no longer lives here. With a wave of his wand, he changed the letters to "Aidan's" and smiled.
The study itself was rather ordinary. It wasn't covered in Dark Arts paraphernalia and the hunter green carpets weren't covered in blood. To his right were an empty fireplace and two long dark red velvet couches with a polished coffee table. In front of him was a large window, which let in most of the light. He looked out the window and saw the rest of the children resuming their Quidditch match without Aidan. On the window's left side was a tall bookcase, crammed with textbooks about grammar, mathematics, literature, history, Latin and French, along with various other novels for entertainment. After the bookcase was a large, polished wooden desk. It was lined with quills of all sizes and bottles of differently colored ink. On the desk were several pieces of loosely arranged papers. Most of the papers for business, financial records and the like, which Harry promptly set down again. However, mixed in were a few poems. Harry picked one up and it read:
I remember the ivory keys under my little hands.
You crept in so very silently, so unlike yourself
And simply watched me practice one little song
About absolutely nothing important
I played with my first audience, just four years old,
You were so very quiet, so patient, unlike before.
It was not the piece I was assigned by my tutor,
I had simply found it under my seat
I played longer than I really had to with you watching.
You seemed so proud and so in awe, like never before.
As I reached the end, I simply could not stop then.
So I played the beginning again.
Gliding over to me, you sat down beside me, gently
And gave me a look I never seen in your eyes before.
My hands reached the end once more, I looked up.
The last time I saw your true smile.
"What are you looking at?" Aidan's voice asked from the door. Harry nearly jumped in surprise when he saw Aidan staring at him. Instead of following his first instincts and putting the poem down, he asked, "Did you write this poem?"
Blinking in surprise, Aidan stammered, "Yeah, I think so."
"It's very good."
"I wrote it a long time ago. It's pretty silly, really." Aidan walked over and gently took the poem out of Harry's hand and put it back on the desk. A flash of crimson graced his forehead.
"You're cut, Aidan," Harry said, taking out his wand, "Would you like me to mend it?"
"No," Aidan answered sharply, almost angry that he had been caught off guard, "It doesn't hurt much. I got the glass out already." Aidan still refused to look away from the desk and at Harry.
"It'll leave a scar," Harry replied, putting his hand on Aidan's slack shoulder. Aidan didn't react to the touch.
"Sometimes it's better to have a scar," Aidan said, "that's what my father always said." There was a small sniffle then Aidan amended, "He was being sarcastic, wasn't he?" Harry didn't respond. How old this little boy seemed to him. The way he spoke resembled a thirty year old, not someone younger than ten. As Harry continued to observe Aidan, however, he began to see the cracks. Aidan was not a thirty-year-old man, he was still very, very young.
"Would you like some tea, Mr. Potter?" Aidan suggested, his voice shaking. He turned back towards the door, still not looking at Harry. "The House Elves do a very good job at brewing it. Or maybe something colder?"
"Aidan..." Harry whispered, trying to provide some support to the young child.
"Or some food, perhaps? I'm sure there's something in the kitchen." Aidan was shaking visibly. It was like watching a house of cards that had been built up too high and was beginning to teeter.
He walked towards the couch and continued to face the door. "Would you like to sit down, Mr. Potter?" Aidan gestured towards the farthest couch and sniffled as his face came into Harry's view. Harry walked towards him, not to sit down but to be in position when the top card on the house would tumble. Tears were forming in the young boy's eyes and his voice was weak and shaky but he tried to continue like he wasn't on the verge of collapse, that he was older than he was, that he was okay. "I've been so rude. How is everything? Is your wife well? I heard you had a child recently. Was it a boy or girl? How is it?"
Aidan was gripping the back of the couch to remain standing. Harry felt powerless. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't reach out to hold him because the house of cards under the slightest of pressure would be blown apart. "Oh, and Chloe. How could I forget her? How is she? Is she doing well in school?" There was a pause and finally the tears came spilling out as Aidan choked out, "Does she still scream in her sleep?" The air molecules in the room toppled the house of cards.
The sobs of Aidan were terrible to witness. Curled on the floor, he wailed without words, his face in his hands. Harry, slowly, bent to his level and hugged the troubled child. Aidan cried and cried without pausing, as if he had no other choice, no recourse for his pain. After a time, Aidan slumped in Harry's rocking arms and, having no more tears, weakly moaned. Harry hummed softly as he had often done with Chloe when her night terrors became too much, when his simple presence wasn't enough. How frail Aidan seemed in his arms, how utter defenseless, how broken. A tiny voice in his head told him, you did this, you took his father away.
"Sorry," Harry whispered aloud.
"For what?" Aidan murmured, "You did nothing wrong." Aidan wriggled his way out of man's arms. "You were actually quite merciful to us. If you and my father had traded places, and you had kidnapped me, you would have died and Chloe would have been sent to the streets."
"I still took your father away," Harry replied then, as an afterthought, asked, "Are you alright now?"
Aidan stood up and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry you had to see that, that's all. You just startled her. Don't blame yourself," he sighed, "she was like that before you." He shrugged.
Harry rose as well and said, "Aidan, I actually came to speak to you."
Aidan sat down and indicated that Harry should follow suit before replying, "About?"
Harry was in utter shock of how quickly Aidan bounced back. He pretended like nothing had happened. "About you."
"About me? Why?"
"I received a letter, from Lucinda," Harry paused to see Aidan's reaction. Aidan nodded. "She described your care. But she also mentioned how you went from an aloof, distant person to being who you are now. What I'm wondering is," Harry asked, "why did you change?"
Aidan leaned back into the couch opposite Harry. He took a big breath. "I guess I should be honest. I really hated you at the beginning. You and your daughter had destroyed everything. You had taken my father away and no one would tell me why," Aidan frowned, "I understood what my father had done but I didn't understand what the problem was. Back then, I believed that killing Muggle-borns was no big deal and since he hadn't even killed her, I thought people were just being heartless."
"But you understand now, right?" Harry asked.
"Yes. Frankly, I'm ashamed of what I was before, how blind I was. It would take me awhile to figure it out. Anyway, there was nothing to be done but Father told me that he would come back someday and we'd punish the... sorry, the 'Mudblood-loving filth' together. It kept me going in the beginning. You must understand, I truly believed my father was unbeatable, that his way was the right way and everyone else was confused. I expected my father to return in a couple of days.
"But then summer rolled around and Father had not managed to bail himself out. I was completely disheartened. The awful Muggle-borns that I had been taught to hate were going to enter and live at my home. Mother was no help, she spent all her time in her room. I was left alone with all the wretched people, as I thought of them. What the letter said was true, I did my best to avoid the residents at all cost. All of them tried to get to know me and be friendly but all gave up except Lucinda. She never gave up, she always offered me that hand of friendship.
"I was still set in my ways. I believed that Father would come home any minute and rid the Manor of the 'vermin' the Ministry had let in. One day, in July, I was climbing one of the trees in the orchard in the back. I fell and broke my leg. I tried to drag myself back by myself but it hurt too much. I sat there, feeling very sorry for myself, when Lucinda came up to me. Apparently, she had been watching me climb the tree and had seen me fall. She told me that one of the other kids had already gone to arrange for an ambulance and then she carried me back to the Manor." He laughed, "I remember everyone fussing over me and I found it so odd. 'These are Muggle-borns,' I thought. 'Muggle-borns are supposed to be rude and inhuman.'
"Then I went to hospital with Lucinda, since my mother didn't even come down, and had my bone mended. The mending took over three hours and they made me rest for two but when I came out, Lucinda was still sitting in the waiting room. She was so pleased to see me and told me how worried she had been. I had never imagined it before. I hadn't been friendly to her at all but she still cared about my welfare. When I returned home, everyone expressed their relief of my bones mending nicely. Everyone had really cared about a kid that barely spoke to them.
"After that, I couldn't hate them. I just couldn't find a justification. I realized that Father and Mother had been wrong. After that, I felt devoted to their welfare as they had been to mine and now I do whatever I can to make this a good place for everyone because I like them."
Harry thought over Aidan's words. Funny how friendship can change a person. By Lucinda not giving up on Aidan, he got the chance to find a purpose in life.
"What do you think of your father now, though?"
Aidan gave a slight smile. It was a sad smile but one filled with idealistic hope. "My father is very sick. He is just very misguided. He'll get better through my help. That's my goal."
Harry suddenly became confused. "Your goal? What is?"
"To save my parents."
Harry's eyes must have bugged out because Aidan laughed. "It's not impossible," he said, "it can be done. Everyone said that the Dark Lord couldn't be defeated, but look who I'm talking to! If a small infant can nearly defeat the Dark Lord, who says I can't save my parents?"
"Aidan, your parents are very set in their ways," Harry responded and thought they are completely insane too.
"I don't think it will be easy. I'm not a fool, it will take time. I changed, right? Who knows, maybe they'll learn from my example. I know I can do it." Hope flared its light in Aidan's eyes. "Every illness has a cure. I won't give up on them. They'll see the truth and they'll get better. Then Mother will get better and Father will be able to come home. Everything will be better, you'll see."
Harry could have said many things. He could have said that Aidan was crazy. He could have said to face reality and realize that his parents were beyond redemption. He could have said anything like that but he couldn't. He couldn't say the truth to those eyes, that idealistic boy that had so much faith in the goodness of people and has so much to gain if his plans succeeded. The truth would crush that little boy. Harry wouldn't do that. He couldn't do that.
Instead he said, "Aidan, I hope your dreams come true."
"Thank you, Mr. Potter."
"I think I've seen enough," Harry sighed. He felt like he hadn't slept in weeks.
"There's Floo Powder in the vase on the mantle," Aidan supplied, getting up to fetch the vase. "I hope you come back. You're very understanding."
Aidan seemed stronger than before, as if his telling of his scheme to save his parents had given him resolve to continue. Harry knew, however, how fragile Aidan really was, regardless of his fine poker face.
"And you're a very responsible man. I can tell that you really do your best work here. I'll be glad to come again." With that, he threw the purple dust into the flame he had conjured and returned to his home.
To be continued...
Author's Notes: What a way to begin a fic! A quote from Stalin!
This is the first Harry Potter fic I'll be posting even though it is the third fic I have begun. I'm sure you're very confused if you haven't Lessons for Life, so I would advise going back and reading that.
About Aidan talking about Chloe screaming in her sleep: In the original version of Lessons, we got to see the courtroom scene (Caitlyn cut it). During Snape's (yes, Snape) testimony, Chloe falls asleep and has a night terror, right in front of everyone. This scene made an impact on me and I wondered what Aidan thought about that. So, no, Aidan is not psychic and just knew Chloe had night terrors.
Anyway, please review. If you got questions, ask! Just leave your e-mail address (or better yet, e-mail your question) and I'll get back to you! My address is destinyplot@lycos.com
Please come again!