I go back… and I find it's all a joke!
It is January 13, 1996 a Tuesday. I have just had my first Occlumency lesson. I feel as though I have been violated in a way more terrible than anything else I have ever endured. I will later learn, much later, that Snape did not due this to me willingly. The method of Occlumency training that Snape has used was ordered such by my esteemed Headmaster. Sirius would kill both of the men in a second if he heard about it… he might have succeeded too if he hadn't been imprisoned since his escape from jail… Ironic, huh?
It is July thirty-first, 1991 when I hear the name Voldemort for the first time. Hagrid, the gentle half giant is afraid to say the name aloud and knows not how to spell it… I find this rather foolish. After all, isn't the Dark Lord supposed to be dead?
It's December 22, 1995. I've just returned from school and am now hugging my wrongly convicted godfather after having spent the last four months away in Scotland. He whispers in my ear how proud of me he is for saving Arthur Weasley's life just the night before. He knows how hard it's been for me the past year with Professor Umbridge's totalitarian rule of Hogwarts, Voldemort's attempts to break into my mind with Legilimency, and Dumbledore ignoring me… Come to think of it Dumbledore's always ignored me when it mattered most… My mind drifts on that for a second. That night I dream on all the times I had been ignored by the man when he could have helped simply by paying attention and actually listening to me.
Once more it is my first year, 1992, June 4 to be exact. For the first time since I was a small child am I in the presence of the Dark Lord Voldemort… And despite the fact that I am the reason he is disembodied he does not try and kill me immediately. I receive the first of three offers to join the Dark Lord, this time he offers to resurrect my parents from the grave. But I don't want my parents back like that. I am a child and yet I know it wouldn't be true life. When I refuse he attacks, though not with intent to kill until my mother's protection's hurt him.
I go forward again and now it is June 24, 1995. I have just witnessed the rebirth of the dark lord Voldemort and the death of a young man whom I could have easily seen myself becoming friends with. As I lay on the soft moist grass a crowd cheers for me. Underneath me lies a human body, already starting to cool. To me it is as if the people are cheering the return of the Dark Lord that will kill so many of them. I can't help but hate them for the briefest moment. They are sheep… but then I remember: they are sheep that are going to die. My heart falls into true depression for the first time since I learned I would not be able to live with my godfather. Though it is forgotten in the rush that follows I lift my head enough to see 'Mad-Eye' Moody and Albus Dumbledore walk towards me. I later learn why Moody is grinning, but why is Dumbledore smiling behind his thick facial hair?
I stand, looking on in a silent awe on May 29, 1993, as the specter of a boy writes his name in the air with my wand: TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE, his name, is spelt out there. With a wave of my Holly wand the letters rearrange: I AM LORD VOLDEMORT. At that moment, between that revelation and the conversation starting back up I can't help but look at him… He doesn't look too much different than me, save for being five years older… I guess Tom isn't that uncommon of a name either… not too unlike Harry…
It is June 9, 1994. Dumbledore has just passed me and Hermione on our way back into the infirmary after saving my Godfather, Sirius Black, from being kissed by a Dementor. It is only years later, during the events that led to my decision, that I ask some very important questions. Why did Hermione, as smart and mature as she is, have a highly magical and dangerous object like a time tuner, just so she could take more classes? How is it that Dumbledore didn't know how Sirius was getting into the school, or where he would be staying? By all accounts he was the one that ordered a tunnel to the Shrieking Shack constructed for the sole purpose of allowing Remus passage into and out of Hogwarts.
It's June 24, 1995 again, though prior to returning to Hogwarts with the portkey. I am tied to a grave somewhere in Northern England. Voldemort uses my blood, unwillingly taken, to resurrect himself. After this he offers me a position as one of his Death-Eaters: "Allow you to serve me willingly among my faithful!" are his exact words. When I refuse he grin's and proceeds to untie me and have Wormtail give me my wand. We duel and I feel the power of the Dark Lord. I only survive because of Old Magic once more: this time due to a connection between our wands. This is the second of three offers I will receive from the Dark Lord.
Now it is December of my second year and Professor Dumbledore has asked me to come to his office. I spoke Parseltongue for the second time that I can remember the day before and today I stumbled on the petrified body of a Hufflepuff boy named Justine Finch-Fletchley. Dumbledore asks me if there is anything I would like to tell him. It is two months later that I learn that the Headmaster is subtly accusing me for the attacks.
It is the middle of my History of Magic OWL, June 16 1996. I am currently receiving a vision from Voldemort of Sirius being tortured in the Department of Mysteries… It doesn't strike me then but much later on, that Voldemort has never used our link, or however he is breaching my mind, to attack me for memories like Professor Snape does. No, Voldemort has only ever used it as a means of communication, whether intentional or not, truth or lies. This thought is nether comforting or worrying… just odd.
And it is now 1992, the end of my first year and I sit here in the infirmary. Dumbledore has just told me that I will have to return to the Dursly's once more, despite him claiming to know how much I hate it there. I am young and naive and will not learn that Dumbledore has had a woman watching me be abused for the last ten years of my life… He does know how much I hate it at my home… he just doesn't care.
June 16 once more, 1996, and I watch two men fight. Dumbledore versus Voldemort. I am amazed and frightened by what I see. Though I find it how ironic that Dumbledore has used several curses that one might be considered Dark and is quite brutal, despite how peaceful he seems otherwise… The fact that a man like Dumbledore can be just as savage as the Dark Lord… it frightens me most of all.
It is some time in the early 1980's when a young toddler is forced into the cupboard under the stairs with a thin blanket and a bucket. This is his birthday present after spending the past three quarters of a year with his new family…
It is June 18, 1996 and my fifth year at Hogwarts once more, though right now I am in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, watching as a man gets hit by a stunner. It wouldn't be so bad, except he is falling backwards into the Veil of Death… I watch, horrified and pulling against the restraining arms around me, as Sirius Orion Black, my godfather, falls backwards into Oblivion… When I finally break free from my restraints I do not follow Sirius as I so wish too. Instead I run after Belletrix Lestrange, the woman who killed Sirius.
That night I killed for the first time, though I don't realize it.
That night I cast an Unforgivable for the first time.
That night I manage to throw Voldemort's Legilimen's attack out of my mind at point blank range. He is considered to be the world's foremost expert on Legilimency from what I have heard. I know though, if he had been searching for memories and not trying to possess me, I would never have been able to stop him in time.
That night I heard for the first time the words given by Professor Trelawney: "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches.…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not.…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither shall live while the other survives.…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"
That night I was told that the Power that the Dark Lord knows not was love… followed not long after by being told that I had, had, to go back to a loveless home, have no contact with my friends… I want to cry and do so as soon as I am away from the thrice damned fool.
All of this passes me by in a matter of seconds, since it is all in my head. As I lay here crying in a broom closet these thoughts enter my mind of my own free will. I want to hate Dumbledore for what he's done to me, for what he hasn't done… and I find that I do.
It's all a joke. The man who should be my closest confidant seems to have joy in my pain and suffering and has brought upon quite a bit of it himself, knowingly admitting as much. The thing that I should hate and revile I finds myself looking and comparing myself too at times… I am afraid that we are not that different, though I will remain in much denial about this for the next month or two.
Oh well… it's a Joke! Ha ha. Well… I feel better already, despite the tears that are streaming down my face.
It is now 0200 on July 2nd. I've been 'home' now for two weeks. Exactly one week ago today Emmeline Vance was killed and Amelia Bones, the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was nearly killed, both from Death Eater activity. The ironic part: Bones only survived thanks to the presence of her niece, Susan, whom I helped train. The news of such was the last post I received this summer.
My thoughts aren't on that though.
Neither are my thoughts on the fifty muggles who died in a Death Eater attack. They had destroyed a rather large bridge the same day Vance died and Susan saved her aunt…
No, right now my thoughts are on the small care package I received my last day at Hogwarts.
For what is probably the twentieth time since I received the plain brown box I open it and look at the contents. Inside are a pair of faded jeans, a red button down shirt, a plain white undershirt, a blue bandana, and a new pair of nice shoes. All top brand stuff too. On top of all of this is a single object, the only other object in the box: a metal flask.
Now, I wouldn't have a problem with this stuff usually… Its muggle goods and none of the dark witches and wizards I can think of would know anything about muggle goods, or manage to deliver them to me while in Hogwarts.
The problem is that it's from a wizard of whom I have never even heard of, let alone know. Besides that… they're muggle goods. Of all the witches and wizard's I know, light or dark, they all either don't know me well enough, don't have the money, wouldn't get me these things, or don't know the muggle world well enough to get them. Truth is told I should have given all these things to a teacher before I left school. Hermione would have told me to do so, heck, she'd have told them herself.
But, then again that's why I didn't tell Hermione about this.
It came with a very simple note, written on parchment. The note… it brought me so much pain from the references to Sirius, pain which I feel day and night. Yet, in the same letter it offers me a way to start healing the hole left in my heart from Sirius' passing.
Dear Mr. Potter,
May I first offer you condolences on the loss of your Godfather, Sirius Black. I did know the man through our school days, though I can honestly say that the two of us never did see eye to eye. Despite this I am sorry for your loss. Sirius was one who could lift the hearts of all men and women just by walking into a room, even if you hated the man one could not stop from smiling at his antics.
I too know the feeling you may be going through now. You feel lost, as if you don't know what's left living for, like you don't know what to do or who to turn to. It's a suffocating feeling that condenses in your breast and forms a block of ice in your gut. I also know that while the feeling won't go away for some time, that there is a way to help it along.
Thus have I sent you this package. Enclosed are the necessities for a night out on the town. While this may not be your idea of fun, I give it to you as a true and tried method, one that I used myself when I lost my mother. You will find encased all the proper clothing and, more importantly, a flask containing in it Felix Felicis, better known as liquid luck. Take a single mouthful of the flask and don the clothing, with intent to heal, and then set out for the night. You will find that the potion will not lead you astray. I will warn you though, the potion will lower your inhibitions slightly, but few others are either appropriate, legal, or safe to use, and while the potion may become addicting, I have only sent you enough potion for half a dozen mouthfuls, enough for twenty four hours of good luck.
May you have an interesting time,
The Half-Blood Prince
P.S. Do NOT mix liquid luck with alcohol; it would be quite… unpleasant.
I had to have read the note from the Prince three dozen times or more. He was wrong though, the Prince, I didn't feel lost.
I felt numb, like a piece of me, the best piece of me, fell through the veil with Sirius. It was the part of me that wanted to live, to learn… to fight the good fight.
Maybe it would help this potion. Who knew? It wasn't the kind of decision to rush in making. For all I know the potion could be liquid luck or basilisk venom.
Looking up at the clock I see that I have been staring off into nothing for the past four hours. One more sleepless night to add to the tally. Stashing the flask and the care package under a floor board beneath my bed I get to work for the day.
Despite the warning given to my relatives by the Order last month, my lifestyle has changed very little. In fact, the only improvement has been that I am given bigger shares at meals. But the amount of work I do around and in the house…
Each day it was customary for me to get up at six, in order to make breakfast for Dudley, Vernon, and Petunia. Each had their own specifics. Dudley, for instance would eat two hashers of bacon each morning, and four eggs, over easy, and two potatoes of hash browns. Along with that he downs about a gallon of orange juice each morning.
Vernon on the other hand goes with a 'simple' English breakfast: Four Eggy in a Basket, a half a dozen slices of ham, and several more eggs scrambled. Add to that a few cups of tea with plenty of sugar and honey.
Petunia is both the easiest and hardest to make breakfast for: A single egg, cooked to perfection, half a grapefruit, sugared so to perfection, and two pieces of toast, not too burnt, not to moist, with a light spreading of marmalade. Served with just one cup of tea, steeped perfectly.
I myself get the other half of Petunia's grapefruit and a couple of slices of toast.
Sitting down with my 'family,' after I'm done cooking, Dudley already half way through his food orgy, my uncle clears his throat.
"Boy," he began imperiously, "I recently got another promotion at Gunnings. That being said, your aunt has expressed an interest in remodeling the house."
I look at the fat man incredulously; what could he possibly be planning now?
"And?" I grate out impatiently as he sat there, waiting for me to congratulate him, my throat dry and hurting from a mixture of crying and lack of use otherwise.
Narrowing his eye's he carried on gruffly, "AND, that means we need to have no one in the house while it's being done. You need to get a hold of those freaks of yours and have them take you away to wherever it is your kind go!"
The man actually jumped when I barked a laugh from my sore throat, "Get a hold of them?" I ask, "Get a hold of them? How exactly do you expect me to do that?" I asked, my mind turned once more towards my anger at Dumbledore before banishing the thoughts. Dwelling on that anger inevitable sent my thoughts towards the source of my anger and Sirius.
"Well, well… use that rutty bird of yours!" he yelled, poking a meaty finger at the ceiling.
"Hedwig," I began, "Has been taken from me for the summer by Dumbledore. Ms. Figg, who is a squib by the way, has been removed from Privet Drive for some reason, though I don't doubt that I have minders watching over me. I don't know how to call Hermione, since I don't even know if she is at her home and not moved to one of Dumbledore's safe houses. I'm stuck here until they decide to let me leave."
I tried to tune out the rant that followed, but it made me so angry!
"We never even wanted anything to do with your kind! Their nothing you freaks can offer good people that would change that!" Vernon raged on, finally hitting a nerve.
"You should be glad I am here, you fat bastard!" I yelled back, standing up quickly, my anger noticeable by the flying of my plate towards a wall without it being touched, "Me staying here in this HELLHOLE is probably the only thing keeping your family alive still!"
I could see as the walrus like man turned an ugly shade of puce, his teeth bared at me, "NOW YOU SEE HERE! I will not take threats from anymore of you freaks! I've had enough of you and your kind!"
"My kind generally want nothing to do with your kind either! Though there are those that would rather see you dead rather than ignorant of our world. I have fought against men and women who would kill you and your son, just because you have no magic! That is after they tortured you for hours on end and raping your horse of a wife and making you watch as she died! You want to know why they haven't? I'll tell you why! Because I AM HERE!"
"ENOUGH!" he bellowed, standing up now, letting his chair fall to the ground, pounding on the table and breaking his own plate with his beefy hand, "I WILL NOT STAND IT! THIS IS THE LAST SUMMER YOU WILL EVER SET FOOT IN MY HOME! I will kill you and ANY of your freakish kind that I ever meet again; put them down like the bastard dog's they are. I should have drowned you when you were still a pup."
Sneering at him I couldn't stop the words that flowed out of my mouth even if I wanted to, "Please! You're like the mud beneath our boots. You would be wiped away and thrown to the trash before you would even realize we were there!"
Petunia gasped, and Vernon's face when from puce a deep purple, "You think you know how the world works you little bastard? Please! Men can be killed easy enough. You've never seen war to know…"
I cut him off with another barking laugh, "I've never seen war?" I asked… well yelled, at him, "I've seen war! I've seen men die right before my eyes; I've fought in war already, what about you Vernon? What would a simple sales man know of war?"
I wanted to sit down and cry as vision's of Cedric and Sirius flowed before my eyes once more, but I didn't stop, "Whole parts of the magical community would love to get rid of you muggle's, cleaning up the mud that pollutes our world. I'm supposed to be a 'champion' for your kind Dursly, but I've been stabbed, beaten, stuffed in a cupboard for ten years of my life. You put locks and bars on my room; you starved me and worked me to the bone… Frankly, I don't see anything worth saving in this Pathetic Little Shitehole that is the muggle world. You Freaks do a good enough job of killing yourselves off, I don't think there's anything worth saving."
His next words at me were whispered, barely loud enough to be heard, "Leave. Boy! I want you gone from this house by midnight tonight or I toss you out!"
"Gladly." Is all I responded with, thinking about what I'll need, how I could contact the Order…? If I should contact the Order, where I could go, how I could go. Did I have minders on Privet Drive anymore?
Ms. Figg has left the drive altogether, my owl has been stolen from me, my old subscription to the Daily Prophet is either being redirected or is canceled. Hermione hasn't tried to contact me at all through muggle means, which I know the Death Eaters and Ministry wouldn't be able to track.
Once I'm in my room I spring to work, pulling my trunk from my closet and immediately opening it, sorting through the objects inside it. My father's invisibility cloak, text books, parchment, inkwells and quills, school robes, and different nick-knack's are for the most part crammed inside it.
Instantly I realize my first problem: I won't be able to drag the trunk with me everywhere. Turning my head I look into the closet, which has various things of Dudley's thrown inside it, before I spot what I need. Pulling free one of my whale of cousin's old backpacks, which looked like it hadn't seen any use other than to be carried back and from school, as empty as his head, I start to sort through to see which essentials I will be able to take with me.
The cloak I set aside for now, I'm going to need it later, while the Marauders Map I prop up on the side for easy access. Immediately my cauldron and Potion's text get cast to the side, most likely I'm not even going to take the subject unless I managed an O on my Owls. Most of the books get left behind actually, while my most recent edition of Standard Book of Spells, Intermediate Transfiguration, and Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts went straight in. I don't think I would have been able to leave the last one behind… Sirius gave it to me.
Swallowing, I fight back the tears… Now's not the time, I need to be strong and get moving soon. I don't want to put it behind me but I can't let Sirius' ghost haunt me forever.
"Clear your mind… Clear your mind…" I start chanting, losing myself in its steady monotones rhythm.
Still chanting I begin to work once more, already feeling calmer… Damn, Snape was right about Occlumency and my emotions.
The Dark Arts Outsmarted, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and My Favourite Spells get left behind, much to my dismay, but I rationalize it as me not doing too much practical Defense work outside of school. In a Spur of the moment decision I throw in my Divination book, The Dream Oracle. "If I'm going to have a Prophesy handing over my head, I better study the stuff at least a little." I mutter to myself, groaning at the thought of reading through one of Trelawney's texts already.
I only throw in two changes of outfits right now, deciding that I'd just have to make my way to Diagon Alley to get more rather than carrying it all around with me anyways. Following that thinking I only hold onto a single ink well and parchment scroll.
By now I was to the bottom of my trunk and started sorting through the random nick knacks and broken bits from over the years. The first thing I pull out makes me the angry.
It was a key… a silver key with small insect wings on it. With it come the memories of my first year and fighting to save the Philosophers Stone. I feel so angry because my Dreams of late have been less dream and more memory.
"Why did three first year students need save one of the world's most powerful magical artifacts?" I asked aloud, "Why Dumbledore would put the wizarding community in that kind of danger… Forget the community, why put the students in that position?" Muttering to myself loosely, in a mocking Dumbledore fashion, "The third-floor corridor is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death!" I throw the key into my newly salvaged backpack and reach in to the trunk once more.
This time I pull out a piece of a shattered mirror.
"Clear your mind… Clear your mind… Clear your mind!" with my eyes closed I put the object on the floor, trying not to let my own sadness fill me.
Reaching inside again I pull free the Portable Sneak-O-Scope that Ron had bought me from Egypt. Deciding against it I throw the cheap Dark Detector into the rest of the pile beside me. Looking in I decide that I have enough to get by, as the rest of the junk in the trunk is broken or not so fond memories.
Hurrying once more I look at the time, it's nearly two thirty already. Pulling up the loose floor board under my bead I throw the few salvageable items into my backpack along with my vault key. At the very least I will be able to keep the clothes'. Popping open the flask I look inside at the golden liquid before rereading the note that came with it:
"The Potion will not lead you astray"… "Enough potion for half a dozen mouthfuls, enough for twenty four hours of good luck."… "May you have an interesting time…"
"Half a dozen mouthfuls, eh? Well, I feel like I've more than overdue for a good day Felix!"
Putting the flask to my mouth I take two large gulps of the liquid, only four more mouthfuls to go.
As I lower the silver bottle from my lips I can feel the magic of the potion start to work. The dark fog that had covered my life for the past weeks seemed to lift, the dark's got lighter and the lights got brighter. For the first time since before the school year ended I could feel a true, genuine smile grace my lips. I didn't feel anger or sadness… they weren't gone, they just seemed so… trivial, now.
Looking down I note the top of the back pack is opened. "You know… The Prince wanted me to wear those clothes when I went out… I would be rude not to!"
Three minutes later I'm sliding down the banister with my pack hoisted on my shoulder, avoiding Dudley as he stormed up the stairs with Piers Polkiss not far behind. Getting to the bottom I instantly make my way to the kitchen, grabbing a few quick bites from the meal that Aunt Petunia is preparing for that night.
Before I walk out I see Vernon's wallet on the table, bulging with money right out of the bank. The fat man always made it a habit of having a lot of money on him, ever since before I can remember. Probably compensating for something.
Not even pausing to consider it I snatched the imitation leather up and stuff it my back pocket, heading to the front door.
Subconsciously I know that taking the front door is most likely a bad idea, as that is where most of the Order members, if they are watching me, are going to be camped out. At the very least I should throw the invisibility cloak over myself… But, I had a really good feeling about how things were going. Slamming the door behind me I hear some rustling in the bushes followed by a loud- Clunk! as a piece of roofing falls off the house.
"Afternoon Dung!" I said cheerfully, looking at the unconscious face of Mundanges Fetcher, before picking up the invisibility cloak that was draped over his shoulders, making him look like a head lying in the mud. "Now, now Dung, leaving a magical artifact laying around like that in a Muggle neighborhood? Bad form."
Shoving it into my backpack I keep walking calmly until I'm at the end of the drive way, off in the distance I can hear loud music playing, coming closer…
'Guess that's my ride!' I think joyfully, hiking up the black backpack once more.
As the vehicle came around the corner I lift one hand to my mouth and put the other in the air, shouting out in jubilation, making the passing truck come to a stop. There were maybe three people in the front cab, and two more in the bed of the truck, that I saw, fast paced music blasting from speakers making the whole vehicle shake, and more than a few open containers. The driver leaned out the window at me, a wiry guy with a cute little red head on his arm, "Oi, where you heading?" he shouted out to me so I could hear over the music.
Spur of the moment I shouted back, "That Rave down in London tonight, though I don't got a ride so I'm hiking out early!"
I knew I had done good when the guy gave a huge grin, "Nice, hop in back with the others, it's a little tight but you'll manage. We got a friend holding a big get together before the Rave and then heading there ourselves!" Walking to the back of the truck I looked at the people in back, seeing there were in fact three others there, all women. "Sorry 'bout the squeeze back there mate." He said, shooting me another grin.
"I think I'll manage." I sent back at him, hopping over the side and between two of the girls in one fluid motion, "Hello Luv's, names Harry, Harry Potter!"
The next eight hours were a rather large blur of excitement. It felt like everything I touched would turn to gold, every word produced a laugh or coo, and even my very look was enough get what I wanted or needed.
A backyard barbeque turned into a roaring block party, which in turn lead to a rather large group heading out to a Rave, which ended up with me meeting a rather pretty brunette, both slim and tall and tight in all the right places. I bought drinks, paid for the whole groups entry, threw money left and right without a care in the world and I was loved for it.
I remembered what happened next in such clarity only because the Felix Felicis was wearing off as it happened, the world beginning to come back into a clear focus. I remember stealing a strong drink from the guy next to me, both her and I eyeing each other from across the room and downing our drinks. I got up and wandered over to her table, pulling free my flask as I did, taking another mouthful of liquid luck to go with my liquid courage as I reached her. Another girl with vibrant green hair was sitting with her, eyeing me with amusement. Before I succumbed to the potions power and descended into a haze of light and emotions and tiny touches that made everything so surreal I asked her to dance, making her grab the flask from my hand, taking a mouthful herself.
A second after downing the golden liquid her eyes lit up and she looked up at me with eager eyes, a reflection of my own I'm sure. She said something then, of that I am certain, though what I don't know, telling her friend, something that started with a 'D,' not to wait up.
And then we descended into a haze the color flesh and filled with touching and biting and wet desire. I rode her, she rode me, we satisfied each other in any way we wished. We bared all for each other to see, and filled each other in a thousand different ways. There were gentle kisses and violent ones, she scratched my back and I pulled her hair, she gyrated her hips and I rubbed her in all the right places.
Three hours we remained like that before the cloud began to lift once more, my back up against the headboard of a bed I didn't remember getting too, her naked body straddling my own as I kissed and felt her, moving over her body inch by inch.
"Oooh… oh, keep that up…" she moaned into my ear, as she continued to kiss and lick my neck.
"Mm-hmm." I hummed back, moving my attention from her neck down to her collar.
I could feel as she rolled her head back, cursing, "Shit, and I don't even know your name… My father would kill us both if he ever found out about this."
Pulling away from her collar I look her in the eye's, "I'm Harry, just Harry." I said, grabbing one of her hands and trailing kisses down her arm starting at her finger tips and working my way down.
Giggling she watched me do this before responding in kind, "Well, Just Harry, I am Tracy, Tracy Riddle."
The name struck a chord in me, how could it not? And I answered my name in kind, "Harry Potter." And then I saw the mark on her arm, I had taken it for just a muggle tattoo in the heat of the moment, but now that my mind was clearing once more I could see it for what it really was, The Dark Mark of a Death Eater.
The name, the mark… me, there was no way it was a coincidence. Looking up at her in the eyes I saw that they were now wide as could go, her face a pale white. Idly her eye's floated up, noting the lightning bolt shaped scar on my forehead.
"Voldemort!" I cursed, making her flinch just lightly enough for me to get in the first move, placing my hands under her breast and pushing her off me and tumbling off the bed.
Diving I leapt for my pants, not finding them on this side of the bed, grabbing the first thing I could to defend against the girl who was now trying to kick me in the head. Her bra held together just so and her foot bounced off though it did nothing to stop the piece of cloth from ripping afterwards or the punch that followed shortly after, sending me over the bed and into my pants where I grabbed my wand and brought it up, only to have it knocked from my hands.
"Oh, give me a break!" a growled as I ran forward and tackled the slim girl bringing her to the ground. At first I thought I was winning, then she moved just right and was on top of my back, her knee's digging into my calf's and my arms being pulled backwards in an excruciating manner. Now I'm small for my age, but come on! I tried to force my way free, only to have her pull on my arms harder.
"You lose Potter!" she whispered into my ear, just as sexily and sultry as before.
"Only one problem," I grunted back, her pressure on my legs really starting to hurt.
"And what's that?" she asked with amusement, her lips right next to my ear once more like planned. Her question was soon followed by my head slamming into her face. It didn't make her let go, but it did unbalance her and make her loosen her grip enough for me to flip us. I grabbed her arms as I went over, pinning them over her head, my waist between her legs our chests parallel to one another.
We were both breathing hard after our naked wrestling match, our faces both hurting and prides hurt. And then our lips met in another fierce kiss, our hips grinding once more, though neither of us going for full release again.
For a few minutes we stayed like this before I pulled away, eager for more that I knew I couldn't have.
Panting I started our little chat, "So… Miss. Riddle, is it?" I asked, seeing the sharp look in her eyes, "The daughter of Voldemort." And that sharp look turned into dread and misery, her head sinking down to the floor.
"How… How did you know?" Tracy asked, looking up at the ceiling fan that spun lazily, "Nobody knows what the Riddle name stands for."
"It helps that I met the man a few times, been to his father's grave once too." Looking at the young girl, seeing watery eyes, I loosened my grip, "If I let you go can we talk like civilized people and not like we're in a bad kung fu movie?"
Nodding her head I released one of her arms, holding the other to help her up. She retreated onto the bed, pooling the sheets around her shoulders, hugging her legs with hands full of bedding.
Slowly I made my way around the room, finding pieces of clothing and putting the pants and undershorts on, leaning against the wall across from the young Riddle girl, eyeing her, my wand now safely in hand.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle." I started, "A straight O+ student, Slytherin Prefect in Fifth year, awarded for Special Services to the School in the first half of his Sixth year, and Head Boy in his Seventh year. He came up with a new name using the letters from his full name. Tom Marvolo Riddle turned into I Am Lord Voldemort. I personally always thought that he hated his Muggle fathers name, though here you are, bearing the name Riddle. What's your full name?" I asked, truly curious.
Looking up at me she smiled, "Why Harry, I'm surprised you didn't recognize me once you heard my name, though I guess you wouldn't have, not having talked to me… I am Tracy Davis Riddle, Slytherin Sixth year."
I blinked a few times, taking her face in more carefully. She did look rather familiar, though to be fair I had seen what her father looked like before he became a snake-like monster. Tracy Davis did ring a bell too, though it coincided with a tall sporty blond girl from Slytherin house, not a brunette. "Did you spell your hair, or use a potion maybe?" I asked, watching her roll her eyes. "Right, obviously, so the Dark Lords child has been sitting in Hogwarts right under Dumbledore's nose?"
"Well," she drawled, "I clearly don't advertise my father, now do I? Besides, I didn't know who he was until the end of our fourth year. My parents had always told me that I was only my mother's child, though I would inherit my father's estate no matter what." Taking a deep breath she continued, smiling gently with fond memory, "I was treated like royalty by my parents and their friends without ever knowing why, though the children never acted differently. In truth they all seemed to answer to Malfoy if it could be said that anyone was treated differently among that ilk. Then the incident with the Triwizard Tournament: you come back with a dead Diggory and two days later, the night I returned home, my parents bring me a new fine robe and a golden mask in the shape of a skull. At first I thought they were going to present me to become a Death Eater… and then they told me: I would be going to meet my father… I was going to meet my BIRTH father… The Dark Lord."
Looking over at me she smiled grimly, "He hadn't known what had become of me, since neither of my parents was ever marked. In fact the nearest relation I had that was a Death Eater was one of my father's third cousin's. And then, that night, they came before the Dark Lord bearing a young child in a Golden Mask and he knew… Without even looking for more than a second he knew and I saw the most powerful man in the world, a man so evil that he is said to have no soul, smile with fondness, love, and genuine happiness."
My face fell at this and all I knew was anger. Rage even. It must have shown on my face too, since Tracy backed away from me, pulling the blankets closer to her. Breathing deeply I calmed myself, repeating in my mind the mantra, 'Clear your mind, clear your mind, clear your mind' and it actually worked… again. Damn I hate Snape.
Calmer, I noticed that my hand hurt… Oh, it appears that I had punched a hole in the wall. I guess that's why she backed away in fear… I really hope I wasn't paying for this room.
"…HARRY!" she yelled for the third time, finally getting my attention, looking at me awkwardly.
'Must think I'm crazy.'
"I'm Sorry Tracy." I said calmly, my face feeling much more relaxed now that it wasn't scrunched up in anger, "Something that you said reminded me of what Dumbledore told me. I trashed his office when he said it for the first time."
"No… No its ok, I just…. When you're angry you get this look in your eyes… and then the calm look from Occlumency right after it, it's frightening. Like having a madman tell you in a fit of rage that he was torture you and do unthinkable things to your body… and then becoming a composed calm man that is capable of actually carrying it out ."
"Right…" I said, not knowing what was to come next.
For a few more minutes we were silent. I put the rest of my clothes on and prepared to leave when she spoke up from her spot, "He wants to meet you, you know."
My response was quiet, "I know… He wants to kill me."
"He wants you," she responded immediately, "of that I have no doubt, and perhaps at times He wishes you dead. But truthfully He… well He is impressed by you, though I personally think He admires you. No one else in our world has as much potential as you do, not me, not Malfoy or Granger, He looks at you and see's the future of our world. I think the only reason He hasn't given out orders to not have you killed on sight is to test you, to push you even farther. If you came to Him under the old Code of Parley He would meet you, with no tricks and no deception's."
"Why would I want to meet with that madman?" I asked, looking over my shoulder at her shocked face, "He kills and orders innocent lives to be taken. He lets his followers rape and pillage and commit unspeakable atrocities in his name. Why would I want to meet him? He killed my parents."
"He tried to spare them!" she yelled back, "Your mother and your father both. At one time He tried to recruit them, when it came down to it He offered them three chances and three times they turned Him down. Between them and the Longbottoms the Death Eaters would have been unstoppable, or so He seems to think. And when it came to that final moment, for your father especially, He honored them, showing no mercy and giving no quarter."
"How would you even know?" I asked, looking at her incredulously, "I mean, he came after my family to kill a child, and his followers tortured the Longbottoms into insanity."
"THAT was a mistake, and the Lestrange's will pay for it as well, perhaps even more so than my... than Barty Crouch did. Besides, that the Death Eaters are not allowed to lute and pillage and rape as they please… Sad to say it, but more than a few Aurors and ministry cleanup workers are responsible for those. The Death Eaters who did commit true acts of war were punished, if not killed. Father abhors rape in any form, be it through force of strength or strength of Will with the Imperious Curse. All things that are stolen are used by the war effort, never just taken for personal gain, though more than a few have tried. And as for the killing… Innocent, though I use the word lightly, Muggles are killed without thought, but in truth we try not to kill any magical being without due cause, even the Muggle-Born. But if you will condemn us for killing without a second thought, then you must condemn them for the years that we lived in fear of them."
I watched, amazed at her logic, as the girl gave a cold laugh, "We still live in fear of them. Why else would we not show ourselves in this 'enlightened' age? They would ensnare and use us to fix all of their wrongs and create their image of utopia: a land where they rule and we are enslaved! Can you honestly say that, physically speaking, you are any stronger than a muggle man or I than a muggle woman? Take away our wands and only a few would have knowledge to stay free and safe. A locked door would stop me if I had no wand. And World War Two proved that if it came down to it Wizards would stand no chance against Muggles on a large scale. They outnumber us and the powers they have can destroy whole cities at a time, something lost to the ages of yore for we few magical folk."
"And you… You could meet with Him… Should meet with Him, because you, no matter who wins this war, are the future of our people. He has wished for immortality for decades and has something close… but even He knows that one day He will die. And so am I here, His contribution to the future of the magical world."
"And what could he offer me?" I yelled, angry and confused, "My Parent's? He already made that offer once! My First year when he returned as a specter, and I turned him down. In my fourth year he offered me a place among his Death Eaters, and I turned him down. Last year he tricked me into going to the Department of Mysteries and… and because of that my Godfather is dead! He possessed me, he violated my mind in such a profound way. He has nothing to offer me!" I ended on a self righteous note, believing it true… Only to have my argument destroyed with but a single word:
"Freedom!" she said, looking me in the eyes. The word just hung there, sitting for the world to hear. "He can give you freedom. From Dumbledore, the Ministry, from reality if you so wished it, though I doubt you would enjoy that before a few decades in Azkaban. Freedom to use magic as you would, to learn and study, to go where you wish and do as you please. That's what he truly stands for to his followers. We have, for the past three hundred years been living in a society that is ruled by a corrupted head: Fudge, Bagnold, Leach, and Spavin, four of the past seven Ministers and each was worse than the last. And to top it all off we have Dumbledore now!"
"Dumbledore is a great man!" I yelled, not truly believing it, but having it engrained into me over the last five years.
"Dumbledore is a Tyrant!" she yelled back, "In what other place or time has a person held the position as the Head of the Courts as the Chief Warlock, the Grand Sorcerer of our Main Legislative body, the Supreme Mugwump of the International legislative body, the Head of our world's largest and most prominent school for the young, as well as being a lead of the Order of Merlin, our worlds single greatest Lobbying organization."
I had no answer, she was right there. No man should hold so much power. "He… He has too much political power." I conceded, "But he has never used it to attack others."
She just shook her head sadly, "No… not overtly so. But… I heard a kid in school mention once that: with great power comes great responsibility. He hasn't used his power to help anyone other than the Muggle Born. But he has used it to limit what magic can be used at all. We, the purebloods, see that, and our leader see's a better future for our people, one where we can be free…" if only she knew how much I wanted to be free, especially from Dumbledore, how good it sounded… But Voldemort? Why did it have to be his side that I would feel like this towards. Why did it have to be a war of Grey's, not Black versus White.
"You want it too." She said at last, looking at me more softly, crawling to the edge of the bed, her blankets still wrapped around her shoulders as she stood, though she was doing less to hide what was underneath, "I can see it in your eyes. You want to know what it's like, to live from the other side, rather than the one that you have been stuck in. You didn't get to choose your side in this war, it was chosen for you… But my father would let you choose, be it for or against him. You CAN do it!"
Looking at her calmly, I told her the one big argument that remained, "I won't just crush my morals." But as soon as I uttered the words I knew I had lost.
"And you won't have to." She said, wrapping her arms around me, "Do you think that we are men and women without morals? If men are just, laws are useless, and when they are wicked laws are broken. My father would have us all be just men and women, able to fight the good fight and not afraid do what's necessary without compromising who we are."
Pulling me into a deep embrace, the blanket wrapped around us both she placed her forehead against mine, looking into my green eyes, I into her own pale green orbs. "Just talk to him… hear him out." She said, kissing me gently, softly pulling me back down onto the bed.
We watched the sun rise that morning, from atop the roof of the twenty eight floor hotel, both of us dressed at last. The room, I learned, had been hers. Well, technically the whole floor was hers, so the ruckus we made was lost on all save the people in the room below ours and the other guest staying with Tracy, the green haired girl from the night before.
The young daughter of Voldemort sent me away in the morning, ordering me to go buy a book in Diagon Alley called the Codex Parley so I could know what to expect and how Parley worked.
So one trip on the Knight Bus later and a trip to Gringotts to get some more gold from my vault I bought the book, along with a new set of robes with hoods to hide myself with, and decided to take a short trip down a much darker looking part of Diagon: Knockturn Alley.
Truth be told, Knockturn Alley isn't as bad as others make it out to be. A little grittier, yes, a little dirtier, defiantly, a whole lot poorer, without a doubt. But I grew up in filth and grit and not a penny to my name. Hand me downs were appreciated when I was younger. So I recognized the people here for what they were: The wronged and poor. People who stuck together, as no one else was willing to fight for them. The Death Eater's? They had an uphill battle to be able to help these people still. The Ministry? They were the ones to hurt these people in the first place and even if they would extend a helping hand, who said the people would take it?
Something had to be done, be it Voldemort or Dumbledore.
I finally found what I was looking for, knowing that the whole wizarding world couldn't be as uncultured as it appeared. It might not have been a meat I was used too, but a burger was a burger none the less.
So what if it came from crup's? I didn't even know what a crup was yet!
Sitting there, burgers in hand, I began reading the Codex. Truth be told it was rather interesting. Essentially it was a meeting between opposing forces in order to come to some sort of compromise on certain topics, to make a trade, or even just to talk in a peaceful setting. Parley was not magically enforced, as it originated with muggles during the middle ages. But the magical world was the only ones who still used it.
Most of the old families placed a lot of stock in parley and the Codex, using it as a guide to meetings of necessity. Voldemort wouldn't break the Code of Parley for one reason: his followers. They feared him, yes, but before fear came respect. A lone wizard was not a revolution, he was a terrorist.
There were ways a person could break the code on accident, the largest being from perceived insults or even carless ones. It was possible to gain a little leeway there though, provided the participant's exchange gifts of good will before talks even start. Well… I knew one thing I could offer him, I knew he wanted it…
Bringing wands was allowed, though they were to be placed on a table between the two participants before any words were exchanged, another, necessary sign of goodwill. Any other weapon or threat would be seen as breaking the Parley and, provided the conditions of the meeting were more formal, compensation could be required… Something tells me I'm not likely to get compensated if he brings a couple dozen goons.
Other than that it was pretty straight forward, dealing mostly with matters of honor and intermediates and other things that could require recomp on the part of the offender.
The most important part would be getting the message through to the Dark Lord, though I guess Tracy would handle that part, as she was the one to come up with the idea.
My thought was confirmed while I ate my last burger, having finished the rather small book. A brief, searing pain was all I felt before a voice filled my mind… His voice.
"Very well Harry Potter… My daughter has relayed your request and I have accepted. I eagerly await your arrival at my summer home in Little Hangleton. I've had it spruced up since your last visit to the family cemetery. My child shall escort you here from her hotel, at the stroke of midnight…"
And then he was gone and I had a headache the size of Wales.
"Clearly I have made some bad decisions." I announced to nobody in particular, getting a, 'here, here!' from the drunk little wizard behind the counter and a nod from the serving witch.
I traveled through the Alley for the rest of the day, waiting out until it was time for me to find Tracy, noting that, the later it got, the more people there seemed to be. Knockturn and Diagon were like polar opposites, one waned at night and the other during the day. In truth it held an enticing magic of its own.
The people and things in the alley were surprisingly… normal. I tight nit community, one that was more free to express itself than the one up above. That actually surprised me, that Knockturn was beneath Diagon Alley in the literal sense. But in the metaphorical… it was so much better. Imagine if you will a Bazaar or a muggle mall, one that combined the traditional of a culture with the modern taboo, and add a bit of the bizarre that those in the 'norm' never think about, and you have Knockturn Alley. Though where Diagon is tall and looming Knockturn is multi layered, quite literally being a dozen floors the size of the Diagon, one atop the other, making it the closest thing to a city in the wizarding world.
There was no day, there was no night. People could be found here at anytime, unlike up above where night fell and the crowds dispersed. People could be seen and heard talking without the fear that the other alley held and music was played freely, some cultural, some new, others simple strange and more that was stranger yet. More than once, from beneath my hood I saw a man or woman I knew to be a Death Eater walking and talking free as could be.
But the one thing I didn't see? Crime. Nobody stole and nobody was mugged or attack and there were no random Death Eater attacks like all of us in Gryffindor always imagined here, there were a few woman who offered their… wares, to men and more than a few hag's and people of mixed parentage who offered to sell and buy things of the darker nature, but it didn't seem wrong… on the contrary…
Was everything I was taught about our world wrong…?
I hope so.
I have to admit, I was pretty nervous about this meeting.
I mean, it wasn't enough that I was meeting with the man who killed my parents, was partially responsible for the death of my godfather, had started not one, but two bloody wars, was seen as a Dark Lord and one of the strongest wizards to have ever lived…
But I had to go and sleep with his daughter.
"Stop worrying!" Tracy scolded me from across the room, looking at me with amused eye's.
"Easy for you to say!" I responded, "By the end of the night you aren't the one he's most likely to kill!"
Smirking she just nodded her head, going back to reading her book. Between the two of us was a rather awkwardly glaring Daphne Greengrass, who had insisted we stay on opposite sides of the room. She had not only heard about last night, but been unfortunate enough to have woken up to the sounds of it and was now paranoid at the thought that, and I quote:
"The Dark Lord will know I was with her and might think that I knew what was going to happen and think that I should have stopped it and kill me and I reallyreallyreally REALLY don't wanna die yet so I'm keeping you two as far apart as possible so he doesn't get the idea that I thought it was a good idea for your two to shack up and kill me, cuzIreallydon'twannadieavirgin!"
Yeah, just like that… one breath, rushed parts, no haults… Hair still had strips of green in it too. She had apparently been so paranoid that she didn't have the frame of mind to wash out the entire potion that they had used.
Less than half an hour before we were to leave I pulled the small flask from my hip, instantly earning a glare from Daphne.
"What's in that thing anyway?" she asked, eyeing the shiny metal warily.
Smiling and putting the open lid to my lips I answer, "Liquid luck." Before taking a swig.
Instantly the girls eyes widened, in jealousy, horrified amusement, and amazement, "You mixed liquor and Felix Felicis?" she asked, a horrified look crossing Tracy's face, "Both of you did actually! That's GREAT!"
"Who's side are you on?" the young Riddle girl asked, blushing like crazy.
"My own." Greengrass answered, still laughing, "But you already knew that."
At this point I'm still lost. I am failing potion's after all… and as much as I hate to admit it, it isn't all Snape's fault… I really do suck at it. Never did like cooking or gardening and after the Dursly's potions and herbology are the two classes close to them.
"Ok, I give up!" I announced, looking between the peeved and amused girls, "Why don't you mix Felix-whatever-it-is with alcohol?"
Tracy just glared at me. Luckily Daphne was feeling generous.
"They don't mix properly." She said simply, "It reduces the effectiveness of the potion and alters its properties slightly. Normally everything you do is more likely to happen in your favor when you take the potion. Well that still happens… but it also acts as an extremely powerful aphrodisiac when you ingest liquor, making you more randy and just as likely to get what you want."
Oh… I must have had a really stupid look on my face, "So it becomes a 'Liquid Get Lucky' potion?" I asked, getting a grin from the two girls.
"Just be glad I was on the potion!" Tracy yelled back at me, a big smile on her face, "I knew the sex was too good to be true…" she muttered, eyeing me up.
Daphne was eyeing me too, looking like she wanted to know whether the mini bar came fully loaded.
The remaining time until we departed passed quickly, and with a smile I took Tracy and Daphne's hands, letting the Portkey take hold, my mind filled with a desire for this meeting to end in the best possible way…
The last time I had seen Riddle manor from the outside it was night out, but even then it looked… less than pristine. The inside I had seen once as well, in a dream I had before my fourth year. It had been a royal mess. Yellow wall paper, peeled paint, missing floorboards, terrible lighting, and a ceiling that had defiantly seen better days.
Now?
The floors glistened, so polished that I could see my reflection in the dark hardwood. It was lit to perfection, not too bright to where it was blinding and not to dark where I would have to strain my eyes to see anything. The walls looked great, priceless artifacts and antiques everywhere, yet not so cluttered as to make them seem messy. And the ceiling? Hand painted, a work of art, like a Celtic version of the Sistine Chapel.
We arrived in a front foyer, a large set of double stairs leading up to the second floor, an awe filling chandelier right in the middle.
Immediately I was being tugged along by the girls, both of whom were grinning like maniacs. I couldn't help it. I had seen Hogwarts, and she was amazing… But Hogwarts was NOT high class society at its finest.
Composing ourselves we finally entered the final hall. I could see the door at the end where Voldemort would be waiting. We approached, I calmed myself, speaking my newly found mantra of 'clear your mind' to myself internally.
She raised her hand and knocked, getting a respectful, "Enter."
She turned the handle and the door opened…...
To be continued.
The tale of a Lucky Fate, Will it be Harry's fall into the dark? Will it be his redemption back into the light? Read and Find Out! Give comments, their all welcome.