Title: The One True King
Author: Shara Lunison
Beta: Batsutousai
Rating: M
Pairings: eventual HP/LV, JP/LE, HP/everyone, ever
Warnings: AU, OoC, character death, pseudo Lion King crossover; insane, promiscuous, Slytherin Harry; pseudo incest, more as they happen
A/N: I forgot to mention last chapter, but this fic is completely finished with ten chapters. I will post every Saturday. And thank you for all the wonderful reviews so far! I really appreciate it.
~We Are Just Breakable Girls and Boys~
By the end of his first week, Harry had learned two very important things. One, the Gryffindors were being groomed by Dumbledore for something. He had no idea what, but it was clear that the Headmaster had some purpose he intended to put them to. In particular, he seemed interested in those who displayed the most Gryffindor of behaviors: bravery, courage, determination and a certain disregard for the rules. James and Sirius were already a part of this group, and Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew seemed to have been pulled in by association. The other boy in their year, Frank Longbottom, was quiet and a little shy, but was also one of those whom Dumbledore watched most closely along with several of the upperclassmen.
The second thing Harry noticed, was that the Slytherins were being watched just as closely, if not more so than the Gryffindors. The reason for this was obvious—Dumbledore absolutely did not trust a single member of the snake house. All of them were clearly a single, terrible act away from becoming members of the Dark Lord's army.
They were called Death Eaters. Harry thought the name was glorious. Eaters of Death. Death Eaters. To feast on the souls of the living and become stronger as a result. To live forever. He almost welcomed Dumbledore's suspicions, as well as those of the rest of the school. He would have been proud to be a Death Eater. But Harry had bigger plans—serving another would not help him meet his goals.
Another thing happened at the end of the first week. James played his first prank, and on his favorite victim of Severus Snape. The boy's nose was engorged to nearly twice its normal size and was constantly dripping snot on his robes. Snape refused to go to the hospital wing, of course, so he spent the entire weekend holed up in the dorm. Harry didn't even learn of the incident until Sunday evening, and he immediately barged into the second years' rooms and threw back the curtains on the only closed bed. Snape sat there, a battered book gripped in one hand and a rather wet and grimy handkerchief in the other.
"Would you like me to remove the hex?" Harry asked, ignoring the rather impressive glare Snape was giving him.
"No. Now go away," Snape said nasally. He turned back to his book and Harry saw that it was a completely outdated copy of Curses and Counter-curses by Vindictus Viridian.
"The counter isn't in there. It's a hex, not a curse. Unless of course you're looking for a good spell to use as revenge on James. In which case, please carry on. Meanwhile, I'm going to heal your nose so you can actually attend classes tomorrow."
Before Snape could object he raised his wand and tapped the offending piece of anatomy sharply while muttering the counter-spell. Snape's teeth clicked shut on whatever he had meant to say, and his nose shrunk rapidly back to normal size.
"There," Harry said. With a satisfied smile, he pocketed his wand and turned to leave Snape to whatever gloomy thoughts the boy wanted to indulge himself in.
"Thank you."
Surprised, Harry glanced back over his shoulder. Snape had vanished the dirty handkerchief and was staring at him with the most peculiar expression. Almost…fond? No, that wasn't the right emotion.
"It was nothing," Harry said, waving a negligent hand. "If you insist on repaying me, I'm rather fond of Fizzing Whizbees."
Snape stood from the bed and shrugged on his house-coat. "I don't have much money," he said slowly, "But I'm good at making spells. And potions. I can teach you one of my spells or tutor you."
Harry's eyebrows rose of their own accord. A second year halfblood who was 'good at making spells'! "What kind of spells?" he asked before he could stop himself.
Snape hesitated for a long moment, staring at him. When he finally spoke, his voice was different from the way Harry had normally heard him speak. His words were smooth, like silk. Each was chosen and laid down with clear precision. Harry felt his breath and heartbeat quicken in response. There was power in that voice. More power than Snape had shown thus far. "For…enemies. Potter and his…friends. And perhaps for gaining allies, if that is what you wish."
Harry's eyes slid half-shut and he peered up at Snape through his lashes. "And if it is?"
"I will help you," Snape whispered, "if you help me."
"With James?" Harry asked, raising his eyes once more.
Snape nodded silently, then hesitated once more. His voice became needy and desperate, losing some of that silky quality. "And with Lily Evans." His black eyes burned suddenly. "She is mine. She has always and will always be mine."
"A mudblood!" Harry exclaimed.
He had no time to react, no time to draw his wand. One moment they were standing beside Snape's bed, and the next he was slammed against the wall with Snape's hand clenched around his throat.
"Do not use that word!" Snape snarled, his ink-black wand coming up to press into Harry's face just below his left eye. "Lily is twice the witch those pureblood sluts will ever be!" The tip of the wand grew hot enough to burn and Harry winced, trying to turn his head or pull away. Snape's grip only tightened, and a searing pain began to build just under Harry's eye.
Struggling to breathe, and desperate to stop the burning, Harry said the first thing that came to mind, "No matter…how good a…w-witch she is…still…a…MUDBLOOD!" The last word took all of his remaining breath and the world was beginning to fade out around the edges when Snape gave a wordless scream and slashed his wand across Harry's face. Blood sprayed, and the second year released him in shock. Harry instinctively clutched his left eye, feeling the slick hot blood coating his hand almost immediately.
"I'm sorry!" Snape gasped. "I-I…"
Incongruously, Harry started to laugh. "Y-you idiot! All this over a bloody girl!"
What he could see of Snape through one eye was quite a sight. The boy just gaped at him in shock, then sat heavily on the edge of the bed.
They stayed that way for several minutes, Harry laughing softly and Snape staring. Finally, when Harry had quieted to an occasional chuckle and the flow of blood had slowed to a trickle, Snape spoke. "Did I…did I blind you?"
Harry froze, not having considered that. He pulled his hand from the injured eye and slowly, painfully opened the torn eyelid. There was a film of red across his vision, but he could see. "I'm fine. Aside from the blood, anyway."
"I should take you to the hospital wing," Snape said, standing once more and then bending to help Harry up.
Harry laughed again, allowing his arm to be draped across the older boy's shoulder. "So if you get injured yourself, you suffer in silence, but if someone else is hurt, you drag them to Madam Pomfrey?"
Snape turned his head slightly and Harry saw the first ever smile twist the boy's lips. It was small, only the barest twitch, but it was there.
They walked through the crowded common room in silence, many of the other students looking at them in puzzlement or slight worry. Normally, no one in Slytherin got hurt unless a student from another house was responsible.
Snape led Harry right up to the infirmary doors before he spoke. "I only take someone to Madam Pomfrey if I like them."
Harry stared at him in amazement. Snape simply opened the doors and shoved him onto the nearest unoccupied bed. Pomfrey appeared almost instantly and gasped at the sight of Harry, covered in blood.
"Mr. Potter! What happened?"
Snape twitched at the use of his surname, then hung his head in shame as he explained. "I got angry and lost control of my magic, Madam. Can you heal him? He says he can still see."
"Well that's something. What on earth were you thinking, Mr. Snape, hurting one of your friends so?" She poked and prodded around Harry's eye with her fingers and wand, then cast a series of spells that he didn't catch.
By the time the woman had left his field of vision and Harry could see Snape again, the boy was studiously looking at his shoes, a faint red tinge coloring his cheeks.
"It'll leave a scar, I'm afraid," Madam Pomfrey said regretfully. "The skin around the eyes is very difficult to heal cleanly."
Harry just stared at Snape, not sure what to say.
A…friend? Harry had never had one before. Was this how one became friends with someone? By fighting?
~And Thousands Upon Thousands Made an Ocean~
"What happened to your eye?"
Harry turned in the fourth floor corridor to consider his brother. James looked honestly curious, if disapproving, so he decided to give an honest answer.
"I got into a fight with Snape. Pomfrey couldn't heal it completely."
Rage suffused James' face, and a tinge of red crept slowly up his cheeks and into his hairline. "Snape!" James snarled. "I'll kill him!" And he turned to run off, apparently going to do so right that minute.
Wide-eyed, Harry wondered why that reaction hadn't occurred to him. Knowing that Severus was still in the library where he had left him, he ran in the opposite direction as James, only slowing so that the librarian wouldn't yell at him for disturbing the quiet of her domain.
"Severus!" he hissed when he reached the second year. "James learned about my eye. He's on the rampage to kill you!"
"Don't exaggerate," Severus replied calmly, turning the page of his advanced potions book.
Harry gaped. "I'm not exaggerating! I saw him run off to find you with my own eyes!"
Severus sighed, closed the book with a snap, and finally raised his dark eyes to meet Harry's wild gaze. "James is a second year. His ability to kill me is severely compromised by lack of knowledge and the necessity of his remaining a student at this school. The most he can do is hurt me. And that is nothing I haven't felt before."
Harry's worry and fear drained away and he stared at his only friend with something akin to sadness piercing his heart. "What will you do?" he finally asked.
Severus gave him a nasty smile. "Get him before he can get me."
"I'll help you," Harry said.
"Good." Severus nodded. "We'll wait in the hallway outside. Someone will probably tell him that I've been in here all day. He'll walk straight past without even thinking that I could be waiting for him instead. With any luck Black will be with him and we can get them both."
They quickly planned a series of curses to cast, with separate plans depending on if it was just James, or James and Sirius, or even all four of the so-called 'Marauders'.
In the end it was just Potter and Black, and their decisive victory left the two Gryffindors hanging upside-down over the corridor wearing nothing but their shorts and tied so they were flush against each others' front.
"Harry!" James exclaimed when he saw that it was his own brother who had helped Snape. The idiot actually looked betrayed, of all things.
"Severus is my friend, James," Harry told him softly. "From now on, if you mess with him, you have to deal with me as well."
"Snivellus and the Hairball, a match made in heaven," Sirius sneered.
Harry flinched at the name—James had been calling him that since he was old enough to talk.
"Maybe Snape's grease will help your hair lay flat," Sirius continued. He didn't seem to notice that it was James who flinched this time. After all, James' hair was just as wild and untamable as Harry's.
Harry looked to Severus, ready to see what his friend would do now. Rather than trading his own insults or throwing any curses, Severus reached into his robes and pulled out a vial of bright pink liquid—some sort of potion, Harry was sure. The only question was whether Severus had invented it himself, or if he had followed or modified a recipe in his potions text.
A flick of Severus' thumb removed the cork and he flung the liquid out of the vial and into the air. It landed in a wet line across James and Sirius where they were hanging, then instantly began to vaporize into a cloudy pink mist.
Smirking, Severus tossed aside the vial and clapped Harry on the shoulder to lead him away. "Have fun!" he called, as a last parting shot.
As they were leaving, Harry had the horrible experience of seeing his brother declare his love for Sirius Black, and the beginning of a very wet and nauseating snog.
By January, Harry and Severus were inseparable. Several things happened as a result. Harry, having never experienced friendship before, was amazed at the advantages he found in having someone he could trust with his secrets and ambitions. He and Severus had a great deal in common—a poor home life that they wished to escape, a desire for greatness and power, and an absolute hatred of James Potter.
Rather early on, Severus had decided that Harry could not continue being a Potter, not if he wanted to remain friends with the older boy. They had both adopted pseudonyms, of a sort. Severus was the Half-blood Prince, and Harry likewise adopted his mother's maiden name and became Harry Potter-Black to much of Slytherin house. The other Blacks adopted him with open arms, especially his distant cousins, Andromeda and Narcissa. The pair could often be found in the common room late at night, referring to each other jokingly as 'Prince' and 'Black' as they bantered some point back and forth.
Friendship with Severus also meant that Harry regularly came into close proximity to Lily Evans. He had refrained from calling her a mudblood since that decisive fight with Severus, though it didn't stop him from using the word on other muggleborns in the castle. The girl had some merits. A talent for charms, for one. She was also apparently Snape's lab partner in potions, and they always had the best marks on Slughorn's exams. But aside from a sharp mind, the girl also apparently held a great dislike for James Potter as well. Harry was delighted on their first meeting when she called James a "puffed-up peacock of a lummox who deserves more than a simple taste of his own medicine". They were not friends, by any means, but they tolerated each other. For Severus.
A great deal of the dynamics in Slytherin house shifted as a result of their friendship as well. No longer was Snape the merest step above a first year student. A great number of the boys in his year and above had adopted him in one way or another, as well as Harry. Regulus joined them, as well as Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange who were in Severus' year. A fifth year named Evan Rosier was a part of their circle, as well as Lucius Malfoy in his sixth year. There were others, but those were the ones Harry spoke to most often. Malfoy was the oldest, and seemed to have the most authority over the group.
A few girls played hangers-on to the older boys. Malfoy could hardly leave the room without Narcissa Black taking his arm to walk with him. Then again, they were already engaged with a wedding planned for just after Narcissa's graduation. She was only in her fifth year—Harry thought that planning a wedding so far in advance was a foolish idea, considering the engagement could be cancelled at any moment. But then he actually saw Malfoy and Narcissa interact and he realized it was a love match.
The other Black sister, Andromeda, seemed to disapprove of their group for some reason. It wasn't until very late in his first year that Harry found out why.
At the end of the Easter break, those students who had chosen to go home for the holiday were returning to the school late in the afternoon. Among them were Slytherin students Lucius Malfoy, Tarquin Nott, Jadrian Wilkes, Antioch Dolohov, Thorfinn Rowle, and Kent Jugson. Three sixth years and three seventh years. All of them had a tightness around their eyes; and blue, brown, or grey there was something new in their gazes that hadn't been there before.
Harry had never killed anyone, but he knew that look.
All six of these students could also be seen—though only in the privacy of Slytherin—rubbing their left forearms as though a deep-seated ache had settled there and wouldn't leave them be.
Harry wished he had James' invisibility cloak, so he could sneak into the upper years' dorms and see if what he suspected was true. Those six—who had left boys and returned as men in his eyes—had taken the Dark Mark. He longed to see it for himself, to study the magic that had created it. To feel the Dark Lord's power for himself. It made him quiver with a longing he could not explain.
Severus noticed, of course. He had a remarkable ability to see things that other people wanted to stay hidden. And Harry had stopped trying to hide anything from the older boy once it became obvious the attempt was futile and would only result in Severus becoming angry with him.
"Whatever is the matter with you?" Severus finally asked. "You've been shaking like a leaf since the end of Easter break. If I didn't know better I would say you were afraid."
Harry turned wide green eyes on his best friend. "Not afraid," he whispered. His voice was hoarse and passionate. "I am…longing. Malfoy and the others, they must have taken his Mark over the break. I want to see it, Sev. I want to touch it. I need to."
Severus gave him a considering look, then leaned back in his chair in the common room, fingers steepled as his elbows rested on either arm of the chair. "Have you ever cast a dark spell, Harry?"
Harry blinked, surprised. "No, I haven't. Father would have a fit if he caught me even just reading about them. And all of the books on dark magic in the library here are in the restricted section. Why?"
"I think you are being drawn to the darkness of the magic in their Marks. I can feel it, but it does not call to me as it does to you. Perhaps because I have already dabbled—more than a little, I admit."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry asked, eagerness lighting his eyes. "Do you have books of your own? Or did you trick Slughorn into giving you a pass for the library? Or…"
"Calm down, Harry," Severus laughed. "I don't have any books, and I didn't get a pass for the restricted section. It's much simpler. Some of the older students here, Malfoy and Nott in particular, are from pureblood families with quite the collection of dark tomes. I simply asked, and they let me borrow one or two. Studying on your own is difficult. I'm sure they'd teach us if we asked."
Harry was speechless. He had known, of course, that many of the older Slytherins were Dark wizards. The six he suspected of joining Voldemort in particular. It simply hadn't occurred to him to learn himself or to ask for help in learning.
Without a word, Harry stood and approached the area of the common room where those six had taken to gathering. Numerous younger students had ensconced themselves in the circle so they could listen to whatever topic was being discussed. He and Severus had participated in several, and they ranged from school subjects to politics and everywhere in between.
Malfoy was expounding on the subject of illegal spells at that moment, as it happened. Harry joined them and listened in rapt fascination to what was being said.
"But the ministry has classified those spells as illegal because they're dark magic!" Reggie Greengrass was objecting. "It doesn't matter if it's an Unforgivable or just a household cleaning charm—dark magic has been banned."
Malfoy nodded agreeably, then said, "But why is all dark magic banned? Why ban a charm that cleans and mends moth-eaten curtains, and not the cutting curse, which could easily kill another person? Why is dark worse than the light?"
No one there had an answer for that, though the six Death Eaters traded knowing looks.
"It's because of the way dark magic makes you feel," Malfoy murmured into the silence. All of the younger students looked at him in surprise. "Yes." He nodded and looked at each of them in turn. "It is addictive. More powerful. It makes adrenaline surge through your veins. Makes you more aware of the world and yourself. So when you stop casting, the real world around you seems dead by comparison. None of you have ever cast a dark spell before, so you wouldn't know that. Dark magic makes life worth living. And dark magic makes it impossible for you to live without it."
Harry stifled a moan at the back of his throat. The dark energy he felt from Malfoy's mark had spiked during this speech, as though pleased. It was heady and thick, smoky and smooth. It called to him. His hands shook with the effort of not grabbing the man and wrenching aside his sleeve so he could soak up that power.
Dark magic was more powerful? He had to learn. He needed to.
Without realizing it, he fell to his knees in front of Malfoy, who looked down at him calmly, not a trace of surprise on his handsome face. "Please," Harry begged, "teach me!"
"I—we," Malfoy motioned to the other five, who stood, "will teach anyone who wishes to learn."
Harry bowed his head, surprised to feel tears of relief and joy pricking his eyes. He could learn. He would learn.
~Believe You Can Shine When You're Silver~
The first time Harry ever cast a dark spell was on the night of September second, at the beginning of his second year at Hogwarts. It was a small thing; a charm that could give small objects wings until dispelled.
To say he was disappointed would be an understatement. It was dark, and he could feel the power of the spell, the addictive energy of it. But it was so very insignificant compared to what he felt from the dark mark. Malfoy and the others claimed that life became dull after one cast their first dark spell. For Harry, that had happened the moment the upper years returned from Easter break the year before.
In the face of his disappointment, he threw caution to the winds and approached Malfoy after the lesson.
The older man, now a seventh year and Head Boy, was too busy to sit in on many of the lessons. He was putting away the books and other things he had brought for teaching the handful of Slytherins who had expressed an interest in the dark arts.
"Malfoy," Harry said hesitantly.
Piercing grey eyes looked at him in speculation for a moment before the man returned to packing his things. "What is it, Black?" Everyone in the study group called him Black, now. They all agreed that he was more a Black than a Potter in any case. Things could get somewhat confusing when Regulus attended at the same time, but no one felt comfortable enough to use first names yet.
"May I see it?" Harry whispered.
This time, those grey eyes didn't leave his face at all. Harry stared back, unable to stop his need and desperation from showing on his face. Slowly, Malfoy nodded. "When the others have left."
They stood there, eyes hardly leaving the other as the unused classroom they used for these lessons slowly emptied.
When Severus finally left, having caught Harry's eye and understood what was happening, Malfoy shot a rather strong locking charm at the door and immediately began rolling up the left sleeve of his white uniform shirt.
"You were the first," Malfoy murmured as he slowly exposed the Dark Mark. "The first to kneel. The first to ask. The first to succeed. You must have been feeling this very strongly."
At last, at long last, the black elegance of the skull and snake was revealed to Harry's eyes. He soaked it in for a long moment before asking. "Can I touch it?"
Malfoy's lips quirked in a half-smile, though Harry could not see it for the Dark Mark. "Go ahead."
At once, Harry reached out his hand to stroke along the raised skin. The dark magic sang at his touch. Gasping, he clutched Malfoy's arm with both hands and traced the outline of the mark over and over with his fingers. This is what he had wanted, needed. The sheer power contained in that small expanse of skin astounded him. And the Dark Lord marked all of his followers like this?
At the back of his mind, Harry began to reevaluate his plans.
"What is he like?" Harry asked at last, still caressing the mark with careful touches.
Malfoy's voice was filled with reverence. "He is…everything you can imagine and more. I would die for him. I have killed for him. I would commit a thousand terrible crimes and commit my soul to Hell if he but asked it. When you feel his power, Black, you cannot help but want to serve him."
Harry nodded. He could feel the power, the merest echo of it, through the mark.
Those plans at the back of his mind spiked and settled on a new result.
Looking up at Malfoy through his lashes, the vertical scar through his left eye making Lucius shiver, Harry said, "I will join him."
Nodding, Malfoy carefully extracted his arm. "He will mark you when you are sixteen. I will arrange a meeting."
"Thank you…Lucius."
Startled, Malfoy gaped slightly before a small smile appeared on his face. "The pleasure is mine…Harry."