Revenge of Sorts

Harry was crouching under a natural fort made of rocks located somewhere in the desert near Los Vegas. He was exhausted. He had run in almost a straight line for what seemed like hours.

On a paved asphalt road.

He had stumbled some time ago and fallen off the road, while Lucius Malfoy had continued to run. He probably didn't see his prey falling; they had both become tired and dehydrated as they ran. It was probably their magic which kept them going so long without breaks.

After Harry had fallen off the road, he had allowed himself to catch his breath. Then he sneaked off to some rocks standing in the desert, the only natural hiding place in the open landscape, where he was currently resting his tired legs, for now.

He knew his prosecutor would find him sooner or later. He was a skilled tracker after all.

But for now, Harry was better off than him. He was at least armed with a wand. He was able to use it, due to the… act he and Draco had committed the night before. Right now he was thankful for it, even though it was the same situation which had gotten him into this mess.

He looked over his fort of rocks. They were big, and there wasn't anywhere else to hide as far as he could see. If he decided to travel it could lead to problems. By day he was out in the open, and it was very hot. He could risk a stroke.

If he strode off by night, when it was cooler, he would have a trained warrior with experience on tracking prey in the dark after him. Besides, who knew what lurked out in the desert?

There was no water at his current sanctuary. He had checked twice. He would have to spell water to himself. That was a survival matter. Just as the wand. But, what if someone other than Lucius or the Death Eaters discovered him? Or, in worst case scenario, what if he was caught by Voldemort? Or maybe his captor would be a werewolf or a representative from the foreign Ministry?

His… brother was way too experienced with politics. He could bend a banana in his favor. And he would manage to get hold of Harry if he was alerted of Harry's temporary custody. To Harry's great discomfort Lucius had papers claiming that he was Lucius' charge, and he would take full responsibility. Besides, Harry hadn't done anything illegal, so they couldn't keep him in custody for long…

He must have fallen asleep after his rather depressing thoughts, because suddenly he woke up.

He tried to stand up, to discover that his legs didn't support his weight. He tried again, but to no avail. 'Great. Another problem, which I can't solve.' It was getting too much for him.

He looked up at the sky. The sun shone over the horizon. He didn't know how long it would take before it got dark. It was beautiful. The sun was glowing orange, with the clouds nearby drawing the sky. And there he sat, with paralyzed legs.

Footsteps sounded from somewhere. Harry snapped his wand towards the sound, which very soon revealed itself to be his prosecutor and brother.

Harry hesitated to fire the hex on his lips. This was family after all. It hadn't stopped the other man hours ago as he learned what Harry and Draco had done the previous night, but still…

"Why aren't you firing?" the blond man observed, or rather criticized with his tone. "I have no weapons, but this knife." The man drew out a 12 inch long dagger, which he had somehow hidden in his sleeve. It had a beautiful, golden handle with a white eagle on top.

"I assure you Leo that I can kill you very fast, so I would advise you to fire right now, while you still maintain the upper hand."

Harry gulped. He did not have any problems believing his brother, who happened to be 26 years older, when he was only 16. "Do you always carry that?"

"Of course," the man sneered in disgust. "You never know when it could be used, especially in our world."

Harry shrugged. In truth, it wasn't that surprising.

He lowered his wand, slowly.

"What are you doing, boy?" the man snarled. "I am your enemy! I can easily rip your throat out!"

"Then why don't you?"

"That is a question you should ask yourself, you foolish boy," Lucius snapped, taking the wand from Harry's hand and pointing it toward his heart.

Harry was almost scarred of how indifferent he felt over the situation. He didn't understand why he wasn't frightened, after the entire situation was bad. This was a man who had tried to assassinate him when he was twelve years old, and just after he had freed Dobby from his cruel master. This was a man who came from a family which was very close to the Blacks, and who probably shared the same habit; killing off the impure part of the family.

"Aren't you afraid of me?" Lucius asked in a low, dangerous voice, as he grabbed Harry's hair and forced the boy up.

"No." Harry wasn't afraid of the other man. He was afraid of what he could do, but not of him. And right now, he wasn't afraid of what the man was going to do. He didn't know what it was, but he was not scared.

"I am one of The Dark Lord's elite Death Eaters. I can give you over without blinking, and I know what he wants to do with you." The man continued. "I can silence what you and my son did without alarming the US Ministryr, and I can just use you as a puppet to make sure that the right side wins. And you are not scarred?" the man inquired in cold disbelief.

Harry didn't say anything.

The man dropped him furiously on the ground. Harry hit the stone fort floor hard, and rolled off to the ground further below. He groaned, but was able to stack his legs under his body, though they were trembling.

"Still not frightened?" Harry could hear the man coming towards him.

"No." he answered, not bothering to look after Lucius, he had lost his glasses. "I'm not afraid of you, brother."

"Yes." Lucius cut in. "We are brothers. You are my charge if I want you. What's wrong with your legs, Leo?" It was a change of topic, but not tone.

"I don't know." Harry replied. "I couldn't move them shortly before you came." He was waiting for a snide remark, something the man would say to hurt him. And he wouldn't be hurt. Nothing the magical people said hurt his feelings the way it did when his relatives said them.

"Exhaustion, I would guess, unless your legs are yellow. That could indicate a very dangerous disease which runs through our blood." Harry felt a hand grab his shoulder to steady him, as another one pulled up his pants on his left leg. Suddenly, the man tensed. His grip dug into Harry's soft skin, but it didn't hurt.

Harry looked up, confused as he heard his brother choke, "You are infected..."