Memories
The word sounded odd to Harry. Infected? … with what? The disease Lucius had just recently ospoken about, the one where the legs went yellow, or something else, less or worse?
Lucius had turned the boy, so that Harry could look his brother in the eyes.
Or, rather would have, if his glasses were on.
"Wait, don't tell me," Lucius suddenly broke the silence in two. "You drank something, didn't you?"
The man didn't let Harry answer the question. "You must have done it; Palleo usually shows when the victim has drunken strong alcoholic beverages. Besides, you two must have drunken quite a lot yesterday."
"What's Palleo?" Harry asked quietly, trying to turn the subject away from his "marriage" to Draco.
"A disease," Harry fought against the urge to roll his eyes at this, he had guessed so already. ", which usually starts in the teens. It's not contagious, but it runs through the blood of many a Pureblood family. It was designed centuries ago, to rid the world of wizards, by a wizard ironically enough."
The man took a deep breath before he continued. "Your legs indicate that it's starting to spread through your body. Soon, your skin will turn yellow all over. Then, you'll slowly cease to feel pain others inflict on you. As it starts being harder to feel pain, you might grow fangs and horns, it depends how aggressive the disease is."
Harry squeaked as he heard the last part, his eyes widening with shock.
"Therefore many with this disease walk around with masks, which traditionally shall be made by the carrier of the disease." His brother went on, unfazed by his little brother's brewing distress.
Harry said nothing, trying to make the information process into his mind.
"If it's a rare, aggressive one which runs in your veins, then your eyes might fall out…"
Harry yelped in fear, imagining the pain rushing through his eyes.
Lucius cracked into laughter. "You really believed the last part, didn't you?!"
"That wasn't funny!" Harry shrieked in anger, and tried to knock the man down. He failed, since the other man was quite stronger, and had no problems holding the smaller boy still.
"Actually, I think it was." Lucius chuckled, before he put Harry into a body bind.
Harry felt himself being carefully put against the hot rocks, and his brother put his glasses on. He could finally see the scenery, which had become quite dark, since the sun had hidden itself under the horizon. Now, the stars were awakening.
"Now, Leo, we should discuss what to do with you." The man waved Harry's wand in the air, and he felt that he could speak.
"First off, we can't send you off to the school, so don't even think to plead. Second, your illness will spread faster if you are put to the stress which your Headmaster is so notoriously known for, and I'll flatly refuse it. And, you are my charge, so if he tries to, I'll have the last word." His grey eyes were studying the boy closely, probably waiting for an attack.
Apparently he had forgotten that Harry was petrified.
"Tell me, are you still clinging to your name?"
He really hated the man right now. No, wait, not hate, he reserved that thing for Bellatrix and Voldemort. It felt like hate at least when he thought about them.
Lost in thoughts, Harry was taken by surprise as Lucius snapped his fingers in front of him. "Leo! Are you listening?"
No, of course he hadn't been listening. Not properly anyway…
"Clearly, you're not listening to your betters, my brother. I think this has something to do with your upbringing, though I cannot blame my father for letting you rot in peace. But no longer." Harry felt the spell fade, and he was able to move his own limbs on his own accord.
"You could just leave me out here to die you know."
Lucius stared dumbly at Harry.
"Are you…" the man seemed to be at loss of words. "In our culture, not caring for the ones who are ill is frowned upon."
"But The Noble House of Black honors the tradition of killing those who have filthy blood in their veins. Aren't they close to us?" It felt odd to say us, strange to think himself like a Malfoy and not Potter.
"Leo…" the man frowned. Now, he also seemed to have problems swallowing the new name, probably because he wasn't that angry now. "Yes, we are a bit too close when family counts. Our families also have same traditions, but that's a matter of personal belief, not family."
Harry blinked in surprise, and observed just how dark it was. And just how light color the man had on his hair. "But I am complicating things for you, unless you plan to give me over to your master."
"Of course not!" the man gave Harry a look which could kill.
"Why not?" Harry challenged, feeling rather reckless.
"BECAUSE YOU ARE THE CLOSEST THING I HAVE TO MY FATHER!" the man roared, showering Harry in spit.
"He is dead, Potter! He died only a week ago, because of the dragon pox. Though I did not agree with him in many points, I miss him. And here you come, an orphan child which is the last link to my father, with barely six months left. You are going to stay with me, until that day comes."
Harry opened his mouth, but in truth, he couldn't say what he was thinking. Sirius' death still hurt, and he couldn't bring himself to tell this man that he was the most selfish man Harry had ever met.
Not when the man had said something like that.
'Stupid honorable Gryffindor,' Harry cursed to himself. 'Hate it when they do that kind of thing to you, but you refuse to use it yourself, though it would be fair'
"So then, will I just be hidden away until I die?" Harry instantly regretted the words. One moment he could see his Potions Master telling him that he was just as arrogant as his father. 'But I wouldn't know any of that, would I? But he was like Lucius, then maybe it's time to change.' Harry thought darkly, realizing that his thoughts were arrogant too.
"You…" Lucius seemed to be near exploding point. "Yes." The man finished full of contempt. "You will not kill yourself like some others in our line have. People who are infected with Palleo have a habit of killing themselves, especially those who have been brought up by Muggles. They get into fights, relishing the power they have while they feel no pain. And then the injuries they get kill them before the disease."
The man waved Harry's wand in the air. "It's seven am in the morning in England." The man observed. "We have been gone for more than ten hours."
With that word, the man gave Harry something, and the smallest son of Abraxas Malfoy felt the pull of a Portkey.