Last chapter, thanks to everyone who read this. :)
4. Perdition and Pleasance
You anxiously awaited Harry's return home. Today was the day. He was to meet up with the Council, to take up his seat on it. And finally he would be free from Justin's ever looming shadow in his life. He would leave the mansion. He would leave you behind too.
Still you had worried too often, too much about him, while he had been in his uncle's care, for you to not await this day with impatience. It would be a relief to know him out of Justin's reach.
Still it was hard for you to take that he was returning home only at the very last moment. It would be a hasty farewell.
Hiking in South-America – what a curious suggestion on Justin's part that had been. Why did he want Harry out of the house for such a long time just now? What was he planning?
He certainly didn't confide in you.
But he had seemed to make arrangements for something huge and it had made you extremely nervous.
Now however, the day had come and nothing suspicious had happened. And he couldn't possibly do anything today, right? Not with the whole Council around.
But somehow you felt cold. And odd sensation for someone who has no to connection to temperature whatsoever and it took you a while to figure out what it was supposed to convey. The little bumps that had appeared on the spectral equivalent of your skin finally gave it away. Chill, that was it. Stupid mind, where did it get these ideas? But somewhere deep down in the layers of your brain simmered the dreaded suspicion that this one wasn't entirely unfounded.
Finally Harry arrived and you just watched without showing yourself while Justin was with him.
And you saw, what Justin did not see, that Harry noted the ring on his finger. The ring that had belonged to his father. And a dark feeling of premonition came over you.
Just as you feared Harry started to investigate the moment that Justin left him. Not this. Not now. Not when they were so close to freedom.
You tried to stop him, but of course it was no good and that whole shining palace of hope you had been building over the last years came crashing down in one huge and mighty blow when Harry caused his uncle's death using black magic. Even if it had not been on purpose, it meant a death sentence by the Council and you had failed to prevent it.
You did the only thing left to do, urged him to run and hide while you would receive the Council and do everything it took to convince them that Harry was not at fault.
Because you knew that when it came to black magic the Council had a tendency to cut off heads first and ask questions later. So it was safer for an already dead man to greet them at the scene of crime.
Self-defense you told them and no intention to kill the man. You saw it all.
And that was true, luckily, because they had ways to find out if you were lying.
You pleaded for him, speaking of his difficult childhood and how he had still turned out to be a good person. How he deserved a chance to prove himself. And that was true, too.
But of course that did not stop the skeptical questions from being asked:
Why did Harry - in the rush of the moment - choose to defend himself with a voodoo doll of all things?
Why did he have everything handy just when a self-defense-situation arose?
And why did he even know how to use it, what exactly have you been teaching that kid, Bainbridge?
Lots of questions that could be answered, but not everyone approved of the explanations.
It was a close call, there were many who felt that Harry was too much of a risk to let him go free.
But in the end, a small majority agreed to let him live, on probation so to speak.
And then the mansion stood empty for days and you had no means of finding out what was going on, until finally Harry appeared, thanking you stiffly for getting him off and telling you that he had inherited everything and was planning to leave it all to rot. That he was going to move into a small flat in the city and try to scrape a living of whatever opportunities might come up.
For a second there you felt happy. If Harry had inherited everything, that meant that he had inherited you. That you could stay with him.
But then you noticed the disgust in his eyes as he looked around the hall and only now really took in his words from before: he rejected his inheritance. He wanted to leave it all to rot. Well, surely that did not include you, right? Of course not, the idea was ridiculous.
Suddenly you felt nervous. You looked to Harry who had fallen silent and was staring at the wall, gazing into nothing. There was something he wasn't telling you.
"Harry?" you ventured. "Is something wrong?"
Slowly he tore his gaze from the wall and looked at you. His eyes were wet, swimming with anger but also a little pain.
"You knew!" he declared suddenly. "All these years. All the time I lived here, you knew he had killed my father and you let me live with him, unaware."
The fury and sense of betrayal in his words seemed to pull the ground away from under your feet and even if you did not really need any ground to stand on you stumbled, lost your balance. "I could not tell you. Justin commanded it. The curse." you tried to explain in a small voice but the look he threw you, shut you up.
"I figured as much." he spat. "But even if you could not tell me this exactly, how could you let me live here? How could you let me live with the man who killed my father? Why did you not even try to tell me to leave?"
You felt like crumbling, shrinking. When you could finally speak, your voice sounded beaten. "Your uncle was a very dangerous, very unscrupulous man. I feared for you. He had plans for you and he was not one to take the spoiling of his plans lightly. He might have tried even harder to pull you to the dark side, might have used force on you or just tortured you out of spite if you were of no other use to him. If he had thought you a dangerous witness after exposing you to his dark secrets, he might even have killed you."
Harry had gone very pale listening to your words. "Do you really think he might have done something like that?" he asked in a low threatening tone.
You realized that that must be a very hard truth to hear. "I'm sorry." you answered. "But that was what his true nature was like. I never wanted you to learn it like this. I only wanted you to stay safe and … well, as happy as possible."
"Happy?" the young man repeated incredulous. "Now that is rich, even coming from you. Living happily ever after with the guy who killed my father and would turn me into a black mage after his own image or, if he felt like it, kill me too, or torture me, without giving it second thoughts. Now who could reject this lovely offer. What an ungrateful brat I was to complain."
Harry had talked himself into a rage and you tried to make him stop: "Harry, please."
You succeeded in breaking his litany, but he turned to you, his eyes still unforgiving: "How could you?" he asked. "How could you let me live with this monster? I trusted you! You were the only one left that I trusted and you were lying to me all this time. Preventing me from seeing what he was!"
"It was too dangerous." you tried to explain anew. "I was too afraid of what he might do. I wanted to keep you safe from harm and I-" you faltered when you realized that in the end you had failed him, because you had been too intimidated by Justin and the last words of the sentence fell out empty: "I feared him too much."
You stood still, defeated, and only when Harry had reached the end of the room you realized that he was leaving. Without you.
There was no room for pride at this point, you called after him: "Aren't you going to take me with you?"
He didn't even halt his steps. And then he was gone.
When you heard footsteps approaching that night you thought it was your wishful imagination. You didn't even for a second allow that tiny seed of hope to bloom, the one that had burst open unbidden at the first sound that reached your ear. You crushed it immediately.
And indeed when the footsteps ceased, nothing followed. Perhaps someone was stealing you. Or the Council took you in so that you would not fall into the wrong hands.
Pah, as if that hadn't already happened. Whatever it was, you couldn't care less.
But then there came a tentative voice: "Are you there?"
Harry. Could it be true? Well you certainly wouldn't find out by staying in this skull.
When you saw him sitting on the floor you didn't know what to say, but he gestured for you to sit next to him and then took the parole. "I thought about what you said." he started without further introduction. "About what kind of a man my uncle was and that he frightened you." He paused and looked down on his hands before he continued. "You know, I felt that you had betrayed me by sullying the memory of my father. You know, not only did his murderer go unpunished, but I, his only son, for whose sake he had died, was living with this same murderer like I was his own son."
You tried to interject a comment but he waved you into silence and carried on. "But I suddenly realized that my father probably wasn't the only one I cared for that Justin had harmed. Not the only one you stopped me from avenging." He suddenly looked at you. "You were afraid of him, right?"
You could just nod, unsure what was to follow.
"Which is absolutely understandable." Harry affirmed. "Considering that you were utterly in his power and had no means to oppose him. It is only natural, considering what kind of person he was, that someone in your position would have to be very careful. "
He stopped for a moment as if wanting to give that time to sink in and added: "Far more careful surely, than messing with demanded formulas just to state a point."
It took you a moment, but then you understood what Harry was alluding to.
"It wasn't your choice, was it?" Harry asked compassionately. "It wasn't even your fault. He hurt you just because he could."
It didn't sound much like a question but you hadn't contributed much to the conversation up to this point and now Harry seemed to expect something.
"Yes." was the only thing you could bring yourself to say. You realized you really did not want Harry to know, but it was too late now.
Your monosyllabic confession apparently sufficed, Harry did not dig any further. "I'm sorry." he said.
"It's not your fault." you answered, your words soulless and edgeless like plastic. You didn't want his pity. "It wasn't unbearable. It could have been worse."
"No." he injected softly. "No, I meant, I'm sorry for this morning. The things I said. It wasn't fair to you. I didn't understand. I was blind with fury. I thought that you had betrayed me, that you hadn't cared about me, just about yourself. And it hurt so much, not because what you did had been so horrible, but because I cared so much for you."
He choked and you tried to relieve him, "It's ok."
"No." he answered decidedly. "No, it is not ok. It was stupid of me, I should never have doubted you. You lied to me when I asked you about these … punishments … although you knew that if I learned the truth, I would have done everything I could to stop it from happening again. You could have looked out for your own safety, but you cared more for mine." You could not stop yourself from arguing: "Or, one could say, that it was just too risky, that I feared worse if we tried anything."
"No." Harry answered. "You could have told me where to hide you. To find you a new master who would be able to protect his property from Justin's grip. Anyway-" he bit his lip.
"I know it is true. I always knew. It just took a little jolt to remind me. When I realized what he had been doing to you, all this time- I wanted to kill him all over again." He fell silent.
You sat in silence for a while. "So, I'm sorry." Harry finally repeated, sounding a little awkward.
"It's ok." you replied. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you."
"You took good care of me." Harry answered and stood up. "It was Justin who ruined my life. And I am not going to spend one more second in his house." He looked at you. "Let's go home."
And you nodded, your body suddenly feeling all light and warm, even though it didn't actually exist. That annoying mind-thing again.
Though come to think of it, it wasn't that annoying all the time.
The End
