Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling.
Chapter 8:
When Molly Weasley had had Henry and Archer Steinway waiting to take Harry, none of her family had been in attendance. She wondered if it had been that factor that had frightened him off. This time, most of the family were to be there, with the exceptions of Bill, Charlie and their wives, who were heavily pregnant and no longer socialising. Percy was there, but would be alone. He still wanted to marry, and was torn between offers from the House Landen and the House Smythe, both Pure-blood families, but not in the league of the Steinways. He was still hoping for an offer from one of the Vanie families, but there was no denying that House Weasley did not have a good reputation among the Pure-blood families.
Ron and Pansy were giggling together in a corner. Their Marriage Bond was still strong. Ginny and Neville exchanged warm glances, and their fondness for each other was obvious. They'd decided not to have a Bond Marriage. According to Ginny, they loved each other, and didn't need it. Bond Marriages were common among the Pure-bloods, but far less so among the Mixed-bloods, who were the majority of the wizard population.
Molly glanced again at the reply from Harry's secretary, that he was expected to return today, and if so, would 'probably' be able to attend. 'Whether able to come or not, he appreciates the invitation.' Molly's hopes were high, and she had her assortment of condiments out and ready. The plan was different this time. Arthur was to use an excuse to take him into the new workshop where the Steinways were to be waiting, but she was to only call them if Harry did turn up.
From a hidden place, Harry watched the activities under the large marquee. He always felt perfectly safe and very welcome at the Weasleys, but had made a rule for himself that he must never let his guard down. He was in light Muggle clothing, and he wore his knives, one on his hip, and a small flick-knife hidden in a sock.
Fred and George were obviously telling jokes as they set the table, making cutlery and crockery zoom around and dance in the air before arriving roughly in their places. Percy bustled over officiously, "Mum says that if Harry comes, you're to use no magic at all."
"Yeah, yeah, we know," replied the twins, in bored tones.
Percy continued watching them with a slight frown on his face, and then shrugged and returned to conjuring business-like chairs to set around the table.
Harry backed silently away, apparated to a place near the bus-stop, and started walking up the drive. Ginny called, "Harry's here," and ran to him exuberantly, then hesitated and said politely, "You can give me a hug of congratulation if you like. This time next week, I'll be Neville's wife."
Harry grinned and hugged her, "You couldn't have chosen a better man for yourself." He stepped back and bowed, using the exact correct inclination, "As a token of the joyous occasion, will you accept this offering from House Potter?"
Ginny laughed, accepted the gift, and asked, "Just where are you learning all the pompous etiquette of the so-called 'Best' families, Harry?"
"Someone sent me a book, obviously thought my Muggle heritage was showing too much."
"Not much Muggle. You're a descendant of two lines of Vanie. The Wikans are the leading House of the Europe."
"Who told you that?"
"We see quite a bit of Sirius. He's been telling everyone, but also that you refuse to see them."
Harry shrugged, "They haven't asked, and why should they? I'm just the grandson of the little girl they abandoned in a foreign country."
"Thank you for the gift, but I won't open it now, just put it with the other gifts."
They were walking toward the house, and soon Harry was greeting Neville, the twins, and being enveloped in Molly's warm embrace. He thought for a moment that something could be wrong, but then Neville was greeting him, and Percy was smilingly handing around some 'barely alcoholic' Pixie Tumbles, which he said were traditional for pre-wedding celebrations. Harry started to really enjoy himself.
Meantime, Molly contacted the Steinways, and cautioned, "An hour yet, it would be best if he's a little slower of reaction first."
Arthur slipped back into the kitchen after a time, where she was organising another 'special treat.' She asked, "Well?"
"He declines anything he doesn't see everyone else eating, but he's had several drinks and seems totally relaxed. I can't see any problem."
Harry was with Ron and Percy. Percy was talking seriously about the declining population of house-elves, "They're just not breeding, no-one knows why. The Ministry only has three left, but they never do well when not with their particular family." Ron was paying no attention, his eyes following Pansy who was in close conversation with Ginny. Harry's attention was also straying; he wasn't in the mood for serious conversation. He wanted to laugh and have fun. He could trust the Weasleys. He almost felt a little dreamy in the warmth of the Summer afternoon. He made an effort, and asked, "Are house-elves very long-lived?"
"Not very. Usually they live until around fifty, but quite often the females die giving birth along with the bub. They have a tendency to become irrational as well, sometimes to the point they have to be put down."
"The only house-elf I've known had a loose screw, I thought."
"A loose screw, Harry?" queried Arthur, joining them.
"Not the full quid."
Arthur still looked puzzled, and Harry said, "He was over-excitable, well intentioned, but very poor at logical thinking."
"Aaah... I see. Talking of loose screws, I want to show you something I've just acquired. It's a CVR, and it's supposed to show pictures. Maybe you can show me how it works."
Harry wrinkled his brow, a CVR? He queried, "Could it be a VCR, Arthur?"
"Yes, that's it."
Harry had often wondered whether the mispronunciation of Muggle terms among wizards was an affectation merely to underscore their utter superiority to the inferior species, but Arthur's frequent confusions seemed genuine. Perfectly willingly, he walked with the ginger-haired man to the big new toolshed, and remarked, "You've been making improvements."
Arthur's voice was strained as he answered, but Harry didn't alert to it, and walked through the door straight after Arthur. Before he'd even registered that they were not alone, he heard a snapped "Stupify!" and hurled himself to the floor, rolling and dodging, his knife already in his hand. He threw, his aim helped by magic, and his attacker yelled as it buried itself in his right forearm. He dropped his wand, but Harry was already having to dodge another spell sent by Steinway. Harry called, "Arthur, help me!"
Arthur held his wand, but not aiming. Harry dodged again, frantically, and threw a second knife, this one conjured, but missed. The injured man grabbed at him with his left arm, hindering him momentarily, and he turned and threw a punch. Another spell, but this time, he dodged, and it was the first attacker who dropped unconscious. Harry growled his utter fury, and went for Steinway shielding the stun spell this time, grabbing him and hitting hard, sending a spell as he did so. His fist would not have been sufficient to knock him out, but his spell was.
He stooped, picked up the wand, and broke it across his knee, then looked at Arthur, who was staring at him, his wand still not aimed, either at him or his attackers. Harry was still unsure whether he was allied with his attackers, and he queried, "Arthur?"
Arthur raised his wand, now aiming at Harry, but he apologised, "I'm sorry, Harry. It's Molly... she made me. For the family, you see..."
Harry said coldly, "Was I to be killed or enslaved, Arthur?"
Arthur said pleadingly, "Mr. Steinway will treat you very well. You'll be happy enough." His aim became a little more purposeful, but before he could make the incantation, he too, dropped to the floor.
Harry regarded the three bodies around him, and shuddered when he saw a slave collar sitting on an immaculately clean island bench. So close. All it would have taken was for one stun spell to hit him, then a collar would be around his neck, possibly already with the enchantments that had him ready to adore his new master. But maybe not. He didn't know much about slave spells, even with Voldemort's knowledge, but he thought that it needed additional spells using bodily fluids, his blood and a little of the new master's for instance. There were all sorts of variations, and Voldemort hadn't been much interested in the slave spells.
He glanced toward the door, thinking that he should have noticed the feel of the Silencing Spell as he'd walked through it, but he'd been oblivious. He picked up Arthur's wand and broke it across his knee, then the wand belonging to the younger wizard with the bleeding arm. He recognized the older man, - Henry Steinway, Chairman of the Vanie Council, with more true power than the Minister for Magic. He'd been introduced once. Wizards never attacked each other's wands. Even in a battle, when wizards were stunned or otherwise stopped, few thought to take their wands. The result was that they'd revive, or someone else would undo the spell, and they'd straightaway be as dangerous as they were before. Wizards often fought quite stupidly.
He shook his head. What was the matter with him? Maundering about wizard stupidity when he should be taking action! For the first time he wondered if he could have been drugged, but he was always so careful...
Three men unconscious, Arthur Weasley with no reason observable. He had to think clearly. It was still vitally important that they not know he had magic. Moving deliberately, he went to Arthur Weasley, took aim, and kicked him hard on the chin. Now when he woke, there would be a bruise to give a physical reason for a period of unconsciousness. He kicked the other two as well, making the bruises they bore more severe. His fist was not normally effective enough to instantly knock out a man, though he hoped they would think so.
His eyes scanned the workshop until he found some rope. With some effort, he dragged the three wizards into a row, tying their hands to a railing on the wall, and then tying feet to a rope that he wound right around the big bench in the centre of the large shed. He wanted them lying on their backs, unable to move. Arthur was in the middle. The one he didn't know quite suddenly opened his eyes. Harry pulled his knife from the man's arm, ignoring the cry of pain and the sudden flow of blood, showed it to him, and stated in a calm voice, "You tried to take me as a slave, presumably for sex. Your punishment will fit the crime."
Moving deliberately, he coldly used his knife to slash open the man's robes and expose genitals. The man stared at the knife, struggled against the ropes, and yelled for help. Harry ignored him, only doing the same to Steinway. He glanced back at the yelling one, and said, "This will hurt, and I'm a merciful man. I think I'd best knock you out again." The yelling became a scream, and the struggles more desperate.
Carefully, Harry measured up the yelling, struggling man, and kicked again, at the same time sending a stunning spell. Then he did as he'd planned, carefully tracing a shallow cut around the genitals, taking care not to go deep over the femoral arteries, then poured on some Turpentine to make it hurt more. He wanted them to think the worst. Really, Arthur's well equipped workshop was ideal for this kind of activity. He did exactly the same to Steinway, who still hadn't stirred, then adjusted the slave collar around his neck. It needed magic to fasten, so he had to leave it loose, but if the Aurors were called, it would make it clear just exactly what the man had intended. A sterilisation spell would not be visible, and he was beginning to think that few wizards deserved children. It only took a scant second of attention on each.
Molly wondered that Arthur hadn't returned, but remembered how reluctant he'd been to go along with her plans, and thought he was probably brooding alone, maybe an attack of remorse. It was for her children, and Molly Weasley was nothing if not a mother. The story was to be that he'd become upset about something and Arthur had kindly taken him home. Percy said something about Harry, and she said, smiling, "You know what your father is. He's probably boring poor Harry silly talking about his Muggle machines and his new workshop."
"I guess so." Percy had always deplored his father's interest in Muggle machines. It was not suitable, and was one of the reasons why he'd never advanced far in his career. He had to admit that it was not the only reason. His father was not very bright.
Harry retrieved the conjured knife from the floor, washed his hands, took one more look at his victims, two of them with blood surrounding exposed genitals, and disapparated. He was sure there was no evidence that he'd performed magic, and if they thought he was incredibly good at fighting, that was fine with him.
Once home, he sat in his favourite chair for a bit, head down, then quickly walked to the bathroom, barely making it before he threw up. He was not a fighter, he told himself. He'd never wanted to fight. They should just leave him in peace.
Henry Steinway blinked open his eyes and forced himself to stifle a whimper. There was an unbearable stinging pain... He tried to move, finding himself able to twist slightly, not enough to see what was done. He could feel that he was exposed. Could he feel his penis? What had been done to him? He thought it couldn't be that! Surely the pain would be worse, and maybe he should be bleeding to death if everything was gone. He looked to Arthur Weasley, whose face was rolled toward him. There was a large and colourful bruise on his chin. He shifted himself, trying again to see down, but he couldn't see himself, couldn't see Weasley.
Archer Steinway had no doubts when he woke and found himself exposed and hurting. He screamed and whimpered until his father told him to shut up, there was nothing to be done, and cruelly, that at least he was not the heir, as otherwise the line would have died with him. Archer quietened, but his sobbing went on and on. His arm hurt, and his jaw, and then down there. He didn't like to think of the dreadful wound 'down there.' He should have followed his brother's example and refused to have any part of it. It was to have been his father's slave, but the lure had been that he was to be allowed to share, maybe even hurt him a little, as he liked. It had never occurred to him that he'd suffer consequences. Harry Potter, who'd been the one responsible for the deaths of three of his cousins, as well as Uncle Callum. He hadn't seen him in person before, and the most recent photograph was the one taken in St. Mungo's, eyes closed and helpless. That hard coldness in those eyes, - it had been chilling. Somehow it was hard to imagine him as a docile slave any more.
Arthur suddenly asked, "What happened?"
Henry Steinway said in a carefully casual voice, "From the appearance of things, your friend Harry overpowered us all, and left us tied up. Are you in pain?"
"My jaw hurts."
"Count yourself lucky then. I'm not sure whether my son and I are still men."
Arthur wrenched himself as far over as he could, "He wouldn't..."
It was an hour before anyone came to investigate.
Four Weasley brothers stared, appalled, while Ginny blushed red and turned away. Steinway said impatiently, "Well, untie us. We need to see the damage."
Percy asked in a hushed voice, "Call the Aurors?"
"Of course not, you fool. Just hurry up."
Percy said coldly, "I am not a fool. I see clearly what you tried to do. I will call the Aurors, and they will arrest you. Leave them tied, Ron."
Ron exclaimed, "Are you mad, Perce? This is Van Steinway! Harry must have attacked them."
Fred glanced from Ron to Percy, and then to his father, who looked away from them, bitterly ashamed. "Father?"
"Don't call the Aurors."
Archer Steinway's hands flew to his penis and balls, exploring, checking before giving a sigh of relief, and glancing at his father, who had assumed an air of dignity and pretended he'd never been very worried. The slave collar was already tucked into his pocket.
Percy watched, frowning, and when Steinway requested a wand to borrow so he could repair his robes, he didn't move. Ron handed over his, but when Steinway accepted it, Percy drew his own, suddenly thinking that Steinway might try an obliviation spell. Fred and George glanced at their older brother, and for once in their lives, followed suit. Steinway hid his acute feelings of humiliation, cleaned and healed the minor wounds, both of himself and his son, repaired the robes, calmly thanked Ron, and returned the wand. His son would need a Healer for the more severe wound in his arm, but considering everything, they'd been let off lightly.
Arthur said, "You can use the floo if you want." To apparate, a wizard needed a wand, either in his hand, or at least on his person, and both Henry and Archer's wands were broken. They picked up the pieces, knowing which was theirs without thinking about it. When a child was matched with a wand, a bond came into being, only reinforced over the years. In due course, they would be buried with it held tight in their right hand, even if it had been broken. Replacement wands were never the same.
Percy said, "You were lucky. He could have finished the job."
Steinway nodded, "It was a warning. We were lucky to have escaped with a warning." He looked imperiously at the witnesses, "I am Van Steinway. You will keep quiet about this. Percival, do you still wish a Marriage Bond with my grand-daughters?"
Percy said coldly, "I do not wish to ally myself with slave-masters."
Steinway inclined his head, and wished he'd had the chance to obliviate the upstart. It was too late now. He said courteously, "Your discretion will be rewarded, I assure you. Loose tongues are not a good idea."
They saw the two men off, and rejoined the company. Molly looked at them nervously. Percy said, quite loudly and clearly, "Our father tried to sell Harry to the Steinways. He escaped, but I hardly think we'll be seeing him again."
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Two days later, Harry sat in the Chase's lounge-room. He and Sarah were to leave for France in the morning, but he guessed he should tell them. Daniel and Jason were on a couch, shoving each other in a joking bid to oust the other. Vera said mildly, "Boys, do sit quiet, or maybe wrestle outdoors."
Jason sat up instantly, but Daniel kept pushing until Jason sprawled on the floor, catching a coffee table with a stray foot, and sending it tumbling. Harry swiftly grabbed it, pulling it away from danger, and Dan said, "Oops. Sorry Mum."
Vera shook her head, and Jason thumped Dan, "See what you've done!"
Daniel said indignantly, "I said I was sorry."
Harry said, "I had a little trouble the other day."
Vera and James paid instant attention, but Daniel was whispering something to Jason, which made him laugh and protest that it wasn't fair. Harry raised his voice, "Jase, Dan? I want to tell you something."
They sat up, glanced at each other, and the pair of them were sitting straight up, hands clasped in their laps, the picture of obedient little children. Harry laughed, and glanced at Vera, who reproved, "I think this might be serious, boys."
Harry nodded, "It could easily have been serious. I just wanted to remind everyone that if I vanish again, not to make a fuss. You can't take on these people, and they still don't know that the one they want is Lee Chase. It could also be very dangerous for you. So if I disappear, cross your fingers for me, but don't do anything else."
There was a chorus of anxious questions, "Lee... Did you see someone you knew? Did they try and get you?" And from Jason, "Did you have a good fight?"
"I bruised them a little and ran away. It was the best thing to do."
Jason was disappointed, "Just ran away?"
"There were three, and they had weapons. Luckily they didn't want to physically hurt me. It's the only reason I escaped."
James asked, "Lee, are you sure you can't say who they are?"
"I told Sarah. She'd been talking to her father about powerful men with boys. There was a recent case against a lord, a strong case, but it was suddenly dropped. Men in powerful positions, they protect each other. And Tremaine told me they've got a photograph of me, and there's a reward, a very big reward. There might be more attempts to find me in the next weeks but we'll be in France for three weeks, then Germany for a week. By the time we return, the search will probably have died down."
"So they still don't know your name?"
"And they don't know my hair colour. It was my own fault. I went to visit an old friend, but when I do that, I always wear a black wig and glasses, like I used to wear. And I make the forehead scar a little more prominent instead of disguising it. It all helps."
"Maybe a big fuss in the newspapers? If they're untouchable through legal channels, maybe that would cause a stir."
"Maybe something like that might help in some circles... I might talk to Tremaine, but he might be too nervous of jeopardising his position among the legal fraternity. I gather there are judges who like boys, MPs, a lord or two, but it's all gossip. Still, I'll speak to him."
James suggested, "Perhaps I can talk to him. I take it he knows something."
"He happened to see a picture of me taken just before I escaped to Kreighley, and then that other one more recently. He's promised to keep very quiet."
James nodded approvingly, "I'll talk to him."
***chapter end***
