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I don't own Harry Potter - only my imagination is my own :)
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A/N
I'm so sorry about the lateness - you had to wait four months...again. Still, I hope you enjoy the chapter (and write a review - as always, author's love those and so do I!). A big thanks to C.B Weasley, Brian1972, geetac, TheWoozyWriterGirl, Ceti H. Black and Shiane Ventures for reviewing the last chapter, and to all those who follow the story and have marked it as a favourite. I really appreciate your support!
I gues that's enough of a rant for now - on with the story!:
CHAPTER FOUR – BATTLE OF WILLS
Harry felt the older man eye him intently, willing him to reveal the circumstances behind his exclamation. Not everybody felt such a dislike, or even realism, in a crystal ball foretelling one's future.
He met the twinkling blue irises of his headmaster's counterpart, refusing to budge. Whatever happened, he violently rejected the idea of playing Dumbledore's head games again. Once was more than enough, and it had cost him too much.
"The prophecy…you were in it?" Dumbledore prompted.
Harry locked him in a stern glare, without yielding an inch. "Yes."
Albus Dumbledore watched the raven-haired boy with keen interest, though he was a bit annoyed. He knew the boy would not budge. Not many could look him in the eyes and resist telling him something he wanted to know. He studied the boy even closer, silently trying to persuade him to tell his secrets.
Harry barely concealed a smirk. He knew all too well what the older man was trying to do. He was a skilled manipulator, moving people like chess pieces, but somehow, battling with dark lords and dealing with dear mentors had made Harry immune to his mind's influence.
The old headmaster frowned. Most people would flinch under his unrelenting scrutiny, but the boy faced him with cool indifference. He could sense there was much history behind his collected manner. No boy, just barely of age, could bear such a demeanor without having faced something beyond life's normal difficulties. His composure seemed hardened, like a seasoned warrior, but still sadness and innocence played like fighting children in his emerald eyes.
Only a couple of minutes had passed since the silent battle of wills had commenced. They seemed not to notice the people staring at their quiet exchange.
In the end Dumbledore reached a conclusion that decidedly differed from the status quo. Is this the boy of prophecy? he wondered. The boy seemed too young to bear the world on his shoulders. But then again, if he was what the prophecy foretold, he would know of bravery and sacrifice…and death.
Dumbledore reached out with his mind, tentatively at first, just barely touching the boy's mind. What met him made him recoil violently. The wall was denser than anything he had previously encountered.
Harry felt another mind's cautious probing of his own. A livid burning rage rose in him. Legilimency was decidedly not something to use on a friend or ally. Outwardly, though, he looked unfazed. Harry fixed the man wearing his deceased headmaster's face with a look as cold as a frozen desert, but still as clear blue water.
"Albus, if you want, you may continue, but I will retaliate."
Dumbledore stopped immediately. The boy's mental wall was not something he could break through undetected. He couldn't even approach it unnoticed. It was a long time since he'd encountered such a strong Occlumens. The boy rivaled Severus in skill, and that was saying something.
"I apologize." Albus looked at him with something eerily familiar to humble sincerity. "I shouldn't have invaded your privacy."
"No, you shouldn't have. In my experience that's something Dark Wizards do."
A sudden outburst of furious indignation cut through their unbreakable bubble of mind games. Harry turned from the man with crescent moon spectacles, and looked into the livid fury that was his godfather's face.
"Dumbledore's no more a Dark Wizard than I am a furry wild kitten! How dare you threaten him?"
Harry didn't even twitch at his anger, but met him with resolute firmness.
"I only defend myself if threatened."
"If threatened! Dumbledore nev—"
Harry cut his word in half with deadly precision and light-feathered ease.
"Didn't he?"
Sirius's eyes followed Harry incredulously, forgetting for a moment who he looked so much like. He somehow expressed the air of a Slytherin, condescending and arrogant—an indifference he had never seen the like of before. Still, in a split second his features changed, looking every bit the lost seventeen year-old he was.
Weary and in unfamiliar territory.
"It's okay," Harry said while turning and looking at the old wrinkled face. "Just please, don't do that again."
Sirius did a double take when he saw the pained expression on the boy's face. No one should have such sad eyes at such a young age.
The pain the boy bore left revealing scars and alertness only found in times of war and battle.
He suddenly understood the boy's words with uncomfortable clarity. A veil of paper-thin ice, which had laced his eyes in front of the spitting image of James, melted like icicles in the warm spring sun.
"Dumbledore, would you care to tell me what this prophecy of yours entails?"
Harry met the composed gaze of one of the greatest wizards alive, the recent miscalculation easily concealed behind bright blue eyes. But still he knew he wouldn't try that again soon. If he did, it was painfully obvious to the both of them there would be retribution on Harry's part. No one liked having their minds invaded, especially someone who had already experienced it before.
Dumbledore looked at him, weighing his options, what would further benefit their cause. With a light chuckle he seemed to have come to a conclusion. His lips tugged upwards in one of his knowing and almost mirthful smiles. Just as he was about to answer, a shrill voice breached the silence.
"NO! How do we even know he's on our side? He could be a servant of the Dark Lord!"
"I'm no servant of Dark Wizards, nor will I ever be!" Harry's voice was just as piercing as the retired Auror, unrelenting and forceful in its claim to be true.
"A Dark Wizard has touched your mind, boy, that much is certain."
Alastor Moody fixed him with a penetrating glare, one he would have used while questioning captured Death Eaters.
"Do you deny this?"
Harry shook his head, obviously aware there was no point in denying the truth.
"No, I don't."
He waved his hand accusingly at him, resembling a predator that had caught his prey in a trap, knowing it was pinned down, unable to avoid obvious truth.
"Then you admit to aiding the Dark Lord?"
Harry gave him a quizzical brush of his emerald irises.
"No, who would ever let Tom Riddle invade their mind willingly?"
Silence spread like wildfire, magnifying the tension in the room. Harry knew Alastor Moody was a hairsbreadth away from hexing him into oblivion. There never had been much understanding of his connection to the Dark Lord. Now knowing he had been an unintended horcrux for Tom, it made perfect sense. For seventeen years a part of Riddle's soul had lived in him.
Harry let his eyes wander around the room, watching familiar faces and unknown ones, permitting himself a glance in his mother's direction.
Her gaze instantly locked with his. The confusion in her eyes, in turn, made him equally confused.
Bewilderment shouldn't overshadow the accusation of his involvement with the Dark Lord. He expected anger, evident betrayal in those who had loved Harry, but somehow he saw none of it in anyone present. He was without doubt missing something important.
Lily held the eyes mirroring her own, and then a second later he knew with terrifying certainty just what was amiss. Three words, once uttered, became blatantly clear as shining violet neon signs, etched forever in his mind.
"Who is…Tom Riddle?"
A/N
Thanks a lot for reading - hope it was worth your time!
The 5th chapter is written and I really really hope it won't take another four months to be edited and published!
Next chapter's heading; A Dark Lord's Illusiveness.
- Elysia