I do not own Harry Potter (or anything else that would get me sued).
"It suits you."
Harry pursed his lips and eyed his reflection in the mirror. He had never enjoyed dressing up and it often amused his guardian to no end when he was forced to do so. The elaborate robes made Harry feel heavy and gaudy but he had long since learned to deal with it. Such attire was the status quo and it was almost public suicide not to abide by it. Keeping up with and topping the latest styles were a painful part of the intricate maneuverings within the Dark hierarchy but Harry knew it was necessary.
But he had never been one to go completely with the wave and, more often than not, found ways to twist a situation into one he preferred.
So Harry had made a point of going simply but elegantly. He had the needed layers and silks and leathers, but the ruffles, capes, and accessories were kept at a minimum. His robes were made of the finest materials available and the designs unique but there was nothing ever excessive about them. It had taken Harry quite a while to find the right tailor to abide by his wishes and even longer to convince Tom that whatever he wore was appropriate. The very first time he had arrived to a public event with his simplistic style, the majority had been slightly shocked at the lack of glitter and shine but almost everybody had to agree that it suited Harry. The people who spoke to him quickly came to recognize his strange roundabout bluntness and it only made sense that his attire suited his personality.
Harry was wearing his customary black with emerald trimmings. Very rarely did he deviate from those two colors, mostly because of Tom's preferences, but tonight was his "inauguration" of sorts. Tonight, silver platinum was threaded into his robes to form elegant snakes bordering his sleeves and various other locations that the tailor had deemed fit.
Harry had always had a snake embroidered somewhere on his visage, but it had only been a small symbol. One only noticed it if one were searching for it and that was what Tom had wanted for the last few years. Harry had been attending public events with his guardian since he was five but nobody had ever known that he had come with Tom and he had only remained a wallflower, observing as the Dark Lord instructed. For seven years, Harry watched as his guardian's followers vied for attention and power amongst each other, noticing how subtle and dangerous each exchange and conversation was. One misspoken word and the next day you might find yourself completely bereft and poorer than the poorest beggar. Literally. Harry had seen it happen, especially to those that the Inner Circle or Tom himself didn't particularly like.
Sometimes, Harry himself instigated such happenings at the Dark Lord's orders but those had been rare events. Most of the time, Harry was just there to watch and Tom would quiz his afterward on the smallest of details in order to ensure that his ward had done as asked. The very first time Tom had quizzed him, Harry had failed miserably and punished accordingly. The punishment hadn't been pleasant to say the least and he had never failed another questioning again.
Harry still found the public events tedious and excessively boring but he had learned to derive a certain vindictive pleasure at knowing things many didn't from his observations. Sometimes, Harry had been tempted to test his own finesse in the arena, but Tom had always forbidden him from doing anything to catch attention. He had never explained why, but Harry knew that, at the time, his guardian wanted to keep his little Horcrux a secret. He hadn't wanted a part of his soul in danger.
But it was different now. Harry wasn't five anymore and he wasn't so vulnerable. Quite the contrary after four years of studying the Dark Arts under the Dark Lord himself. Harry had found the subject enrapturing and disturbing at the same time. It was very much like looking at something revolting enough to disgust yet fascinating enough to make one unable to look away. It had helped to discover he had an affinity for it and Harry often surprised not only himself, but also the Tom at times with his ability to soak up skills like a sponge.
"I always did like green on you," Tom continued from the doorway. "Matches your pretty little eyes."
Harry let out a sigh of exasperation and eyed his guardian's reflection in the mirror. "You've said that so many times already."
"I enjoy voicing my sentiments," the Dark Lord grinned. Amusement flickered in his crimson eyes. "And I now see that silver complements you quite nicely as well. Perhaps I should have had you wear it more often."
Harry tugged at his sleeves, trying not to stare at the embroidered snakes. "Silver is quite a change. Perhaps it has something to do with your decision regarding my role in tonight's gala?"
"It is not a gala, Harry. It is a formal meeting among my associates that I have chosen to attend."
The Dark Lord's ward smirked. "Really? I would have thought otherwise with those ridiculously fluffy dresses and particularly feminine accents on those suits. Formal meetings don't have a orchestras performing for dancing or tables filled with food."
"If you wish to see it that way then I will not stop you," Tom shrugged. "So long as you keep to your role and play it well."
Harry turned away from the mirror to face his guardian and crossed his arms. "Why have you chosen now, of all times, to go to an event like this with me openly at your side? It's Christmas and I know how much you hate this time of year." It was true. Harry knew for a fact that Tom's birthday was around this time and he had taken to being a rather ornery character. It had never actually bothered Harry. He had never seen a Christmas with a fancy tree or presents. He only saw this time of year as a time to placate Tom at all costs. "Why reveal that you have a ward now to everybody outside of your closer lackeys? I thought you wanted to keep me your own secret from those who weren't close enough to you."
"All in due time," Tom dismissed. "Perhaps it isn't the only reason, but for the majority, I just decided that you were ready."
"You mean I can actually cover my bullocks now when some bloody lunatic decides to attack me as an indirect attack at you."
The Dark Lord smiled brilliantly. "You really aren't as dull as I thought you were, Harry. You are correct…just not completely." He allowed a hint of contempt to lace his last words and glanced down at his feet where Nagini had decided to appear. Tom's eyes softened the tiniest bit at his familiar's form before looking back up at Harry. "But that is besides the point. You know what to do, correct?"
Harry sighed. "Arrive with you, smile, act as the perfect charge, and try not to kill the particularly annoying insects that mindlessly follow you."
Tom nodded. "Good. And make sure you keep to those instructions."
Harry struggled to keep from rolling eyes. Really. Did Tom actually believe that he would do anything else? Harry hadn't been punished for anything in months. Why did he think his Horcrux would act up now? If worst came to worst, Tom could always control him through possession if he did anything incorrectly. But that was unlikely to happen because the one time the Dark Lord had to control Harry that way, he had made sure Harry was properly humiliated and tortured as he would have any other Death Eater. It was the first and only time Harry had been treated as just another follower and he still had the scars to prove it.
"Master," Nagini hissed up at Tom. "The Grand Hall is now filled with your underlings. The last of them arrived just moments ago."
"Thank you, Nagini. Would you like to take part in tonight's events?"
The great, black snake snorted in derision and gave her master a look that a parent might give a child who had just asked whether the tooth fairy existed or not. (Although that was a rather poor idiom given that the tooth fairy really did exist. Harry had taken it upon himself to catch her one night when he had been about six and gained not just a sickle, but several galleons in exchange for his silence on the matter.) "I would not enjoy and entire evening with those wanton creatures. They only smell of the crudest prey and are not worth my attention."
Tom actually laughed a little at the statement. He had been receiving the same reply for as long as Harry could remember. "Very well. Enjoy your time away from those crude creatures you so apparently despise."
As Nagini slithered away, the Dark Lord stepped away from the door and said, "I expect to see you at the Great Hall's entrance in five minutes."
Harry didn't reply. He didn't have to. Tom knew he would obey. Harry frowned and let out another sigh before surreptitiously glancing running a hand over a left pocket deftly hidden within the folds of his robes. The familiar size of a small parcel greeted his touch and he nervously bit his lips. Was tonight really a good night to do it? Was it wise when Harry knew his guardian's traditional black mood at this time of year?
Harry shook his head and turned away from the dilemma for the time being. Right now he had to compose himself to finally reveal himself before the public as the Dark Lord's charge and protégé. He couldn't look weak. He couldn't have the smallest crack in his presentation tonight. Anything less than perfection would be a disaster because this was the impression that would stick with Tom's followers from now on and Tom wanted only the very best from anything that was associated with him.
Precisely five minutes later found Harry at the Dark Lord's side before the Great Hall's entrance. He walked up to his guardian and glanced at him from the corners of his eyes but when the older man said nothing, Harry quietly stood, awaiting command.
The two of them stood in an odd sort of silent companionship. Their moments of eerie understanding (which Harry thought courtesy of the their shared souls) came at the oddest of times but sometimes it was moments like these that eased Harry's doubts. Doubts like whether he would fare better on the Light side or if he actually liked his life here plagued him still and were the reasons why he had yet to completely absorb the piece of Tom's soul residing in him. In order for Harry to actually be a single person with Tom's soul actually a part of his, he had to accept his place here, accept Tom completely. Only then, Harry knew, could the souls be combined and he a single person.
At times, Harry feared that it would never happen. He knew Tom too well, knew just how incapable he was of empathy and concern for anybody but himself. This knowledge and countless other quirks and facets of his guardian's personality and character kept Harry from fully accepting the extra soul within him. Tom realized this too but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't fundamentally change himself. So he waited it out and allowed Harry the time he needed. Harry was the only person Tom was patient for in that aspect and while it was for the sake of completing the Horcrux, the action still gave Harry a sort of comfort and hope.
"Remember my expectations," Tom murmured.
Harry snapped himself out of his thoughts and quickly nodded. "Of course."
Tom gave his ward one last appraising look before taking a step forward and wandlessly opening the double doors with only the barest twitch of his fingers. Harry immediately fell into step just behind the man and together they entered.
The Dark Lord and his Horcrux.
~0~
Forget punching. Draco was prepared to Avada Kedavra the living hell out of Harry bloody Potter.
He had set off as his Master had decreed: unnoticed, prepared, and silent. Nobody, not even the house elves, had been privy to his mission and he had been gone from the Dark Lord's stronghold before the sun had set. In all honesty, Draco had been rather optimistic by the time he had taken to the road. He had everything he thought any tracker could need and the thought of actually accomplishing his goal meant raising his position in the Dark Lord's eyes. The idea was a brilliant way to encourage him, but just a few hours later, after setting up camp and protective wards, Draco had to actually face the facts.
Fact number one: Harry had nearly half a year's head start.
Fact number two: Half a year's head start meant Harry could be literally anywhere in the world.
Fact number three: It could take months to find even a clue of Harry's whereabouts.
Fact number four: Even if he did find Harry, he had to convince the other to come back.
Fact number five: Convincing would probably go beyond conversational standards and into an actual fight.
Fact number six: Harry was probably the most accomplished wizard Draco had yet to see after the Dark Lord himself.
Fact number seven: Draco would probably end up losing and completely incapable of bringing back what the Dark Lord wanted.
Fact number eight: Without completing the task, he was a dead man.
Needless to say, Draco had quickly fallen back into a sullen mood. His black disposition was only heightened when the weather took a decidedly negative turn. His wards kept the rain from pattering his clearing but it did nothing to mask the sound. He couldn't sleep for the life of him because his entire life had been spent in some castle or another where bad weather was charmed to overlook the area completely. But such charms were too taxing for a single wizard alone (except for the Dark Lord and maybe even Potter) so Draco was forced to endure.
By the next morning, he was forced to face the dilemma of black rings under his eyes for the first time in his life and grumpily began the business of locating the source of his problems.
The big question was, of course, where would Harry have gone? Perhaps to another country? Or was he going for the reverse psychology and remaining close by in order to thwart anybody following him? Draco had a strong inclination for the latter. He might have grown up harboring an unhealthy dislike for the Dark Lord's ward, but he had known that the boy had always had a strange sense of humor. He enjoyed deriving pleasure from his duties and wouldn't staking it out right underneath the Dark's nose be the ultimate irony?
Draco's lips had curled in dark amusement at the thought and quickly decided that while it was a plausible conclusion, he had too little evidence and indicators to know for sure. The best chance he had was to question the nearby towns and people for any sightings of a lanky black-haired fifteen year old with emerald eyes. Draco was just relieved that Apparating was out of the question. Harry had been secluded within the Dark Lord's stronghold even more so than Draco had been. Apparating involved knowing where one was going and Harry couldn't Apparate if he didn't know anything outside of his own home.
That plan of action gave Draco a something to go off of and it put his spirits back up but something above had it in for him because nothing had gone right from then on.
He had traveled to the nearest town, prepared to ask the tavern or hotel keeper for any sightings. It was all prepared in his mind's eye but halfway to his destination, the weather decided to hate him again. There were spells for deflecting elements but Draco had never actually learned things like that outside of the wards for stationary areas. He had been practically raised in royalty and there was never a need to learn such trivial spells when he could be learning more lethal ones better suited to duels and magical battles. Trudging his way through the weather, Draco swore to himself that he would get his hands on the nearest book for household and traveling spells.
Just as he had arrived in the town and merely a block away from a suitable place to ask for any sightings, a rag-tag group of ruffians had tried to mug him. In his irritation, Draco had left a few bleeding profusely in the mud and the rest limping away with various fractures. It had given him a vague sense of satisfaction but cursed his luck a moment later when he realized that he had not only revealed his status to whomever might have been watching but also eliminated any chance of obtaining information from the townsfolk. They were most likely unwilling to talk to a boy of fifteen who had easily trounced a group of grown men.
Draco was right and any abode he tried to enter or ask for information, he was turned away. He almost suspected the town of magic because the news spread so quickly but he, of all people, knew that gossip traveled faster than Apparition at times.
Then, to his annoyance, a girl about a year or two older than himself had the gumption to walk up to him and ask him if he were capable of healing. He had informed the girl that of course he could heal. He had to know. His father had always impressed upon him the importance of knowing how to fix oneself if hurt in battle.
The girl had nervously asked for his help. Her mother had taken a tumble earlier in the day and needed attention. Draco had nearly turned her away but the words died on his lips when the request came with the promise of lodging and nourishment until the treatment was finished.
Well, Draco wasn't one to look a gift hippogriff in the mouth.
So that was how he currently found himself dripping wet and standing in the smallest house he had ever had the misfortune of residing in.
"Sir," the girl murmured. "I will get supper prepared while you take a look at my mother."
Draco stiffly nodded and struggled to keep from asking if she was Muggle or magical. If he asked and received the wrong answer, he might say something that would land him back outside in the miserable weather and away from the last possible source of information he might have in the town.
The girl led him into a room adjacent to the one they had been standing in. It was completely dark save for a single candle flickering ever so faintly in the corner on a stood beside a low bed. Draco saw a thin woman with straggled brown hair like her daughter's lying in feverish repose and he shivered the slightest bit as the candle beside her head cast a phantom of shadows across her face.
"If you need anything, please call me," the girl murmured quietly before scurrying out the room.
Draco watched her go and let out a tired sigh. Just yesterday he was studying peacefully in his favorite leather chair, dry and content as he could be. Now, barely twenty-four hours later, he was soaked and embroiled in a mission that had begun to seem rather bleak. A part of him almost wished he had mentioned all of this to his family before leaving.
He shook his head and briskly pulled his wand out of its holster strapped to his arm and cast a drying spell. (Okay, maybe he did know some mundane spells. How else was he supposed to get his hair to the perfection that it was?) Then he eyed the unconscious woman on the meager bed and softly walked over to take a closer look.
Her brow was slick with sweat and her breaths rather short. When he pressed a hand to her skin, he found that she was burning up and her eyes fluttered frantically as if she were suffering from a terrible dream. It was obvious that she was suffering from a fever of sorts but he couldn't quite pinpoint he main problem. Fevers were easy to fix with a simple potion or two. But something about the woman seemed a little more severe than just a simple fever.
Draco pursed his lips and muttered a quick Ferula to ease whatever pains the woman might be experiencing before stepping out of the room. He cast a quick glance in the room adjacent where he had first stepped in but saw no sign of the other girl. An exasperated sigh escaped his mouth before he caught sight of another door at the other end of the room and strode over to open it.
Inside was obviously a kitchen with the clutter of various pots and pans and a tiny stove that the girl stood stooped over in curious concentration. Draco had on idea that cooking required that much attention but then again he had never actually walked into a kitchen before.
He watched her from the doorway, curious to see how long he could stand there and remain unnoticed. But then the image of the sickly woman flashed in his mind again and he sighed. She had not looked very good and Draco knew that every second could count. He could have honestly cared less if a commoner like her survived or not but if she died, the girl would most likely be less inclined to reveal information that he needed.
"Hey, could you tell me –"
The girl yelped and jumped, tipping over the pot she had brewing on the stove and spilling the contents on to the floor. It seemed like a rather unappetizing mixture of vegetables and broth of some sort, something Draco would have rather died than eat, but it seemed like the only thing the girl had worth preparing so he played gracious and pulled out his wand to make the pot and its contents revert back to its original position on the stove with a simple flick.
Finished with that task, Draco turned to address the girl again but stopped at the other's expression. A mixture of terror and familiarity twisted her features and she nervously averted her gaze to the floor upon eye contact.
Well. That pretty much gave Draco the answer as to whether she was Muggle or not. He had had an inkling that she was magical. The Dark Lord had spelled the entire Dark domain to automatically erase any Muggle memory of magic in order to ensure their complacency and no Muggle would have walked up to him after that display of magic. They would have forgotten about the "fight" and, therefore, himself. Even those he questioned afterward forgot him once the conversation between them was completed. But the girl had walked up to him of her own accord and that in itself had queued Draco into her magical ability. Given, it wasn't much of one but magic was magic and that was why Draco was here.
Wizards and witches not registered as an official follower of the Dark Lord were not allowed their own wands nor any magical supplies. Draco knew for a fact that this girl nor her mother had any access to such objects and therefore he decided to ignore her reaction. If she really did have a wand to help herself with it all, she would not have been living in such a hovel. It was most likely that she had never had any formal training at all and only had moments of uncontrollable magic.
"Could you tell me exactly how your mother hurt herself?" Draco said again.
The girl straightened up, flustered and replied, "She likes her flowers, my Mum…and there's an awful pretty area nearby that has a whole field of them. But it's right next to a drop-off, see, and sometimes my Mum can get a little addled when she is occupied and she wasn't watching her step. And fell."
Draco crossed his arms. "No, I meant exactly how she he hurt herself. As in did she fall on her arm, on her leg, or on her head, perhaps?"
The girl wrung her hands and licked her lips. "I don't really know. I didn't see her fall. I went out searching for her sometime later in the day when she didn't return for lunch and found her hurt and all."
That couldn't have been any less helpful. Draco was tempted to growl and wring the girl's neck for her obliviousness but he restrained himself and nodded curtly before returning to the sick woman's room. So the only thing he had to go off of was that the woman had fallen from something akin to a cliff and had been in this state for who knows how long. Draco knelt beside the woman's bed (really, the floor seemed absolutely filthy and h would probably have to clean his clothes later) and pressed fingers to the vein along the neck. It fluttered weakly but at least it wasn't erratic. So he at least had some time to figure this out.
Draco ran his wand along her arm and pulled back the blanket to examine the rest of her body. The statistics projected from his findings displayed only a few fractures here and there but nothing particularly serious. He frowned and furrowed his brow. Where was the injury then? Surely there was something more serious that had the woman in this state. He tapped his wand to his lips in thought, a habit he had picked up during those countless nights of studying. If the diagnosis showed nothing then…
Oh.
Draco suddenly felt completely stupid.
Where was the one place he hadn't scanned his wand over? It was the woman's head which, considering that she had fallen out of her absentmindedness, had been one of the more likely spots to hit a hard surface.
Draco scowled at his lapse and quickly conjured a ball of light to brighten the room further and examined the woman's scalp. Sure enough, he quickly ran into a small but infected laceration towards the forehead. The blood was dried and brown, the exact same color as the woman's hair, which was probably why her daughter had failed to see the injury first thing. Draco was tempted to pull out some Dittany to speed up the job but he knew that he shouldn't waste it now. It was meant for dire situations and this woman did not need it. It would take much longer to heal, but she would live and now Draco could safely claim her stable and gain the information he needed from the girl. He swiftly murmured an anti-infection spell at the wound and a Vulnera Sanentur, examining the area one last time for any other larger wound. Then he quickly fixed up the minor fractures throughout the rest of the body and exited just in time to bump into the girl just about to enter the room.
"Ah! Oh..Oh I'm very sorry about that. I –"
"It's alright," Draco interrupted. He wasn't in the mood to hear her apologies. "Your mother will be fine. She hit her head but she will recover so long as she remains in bed a good week or two. Make sure she receives plenty of water and decent food and make sure she doesn't push herself. If she begins to have headaches or feel moments of dizziness, send her right back to bed and make her rest longer."
The girl gaped at him for a few moments before snapping out of her initial surprise and stuttering, "Ah, um, thank you so much! I-I don't know how to thank you enough for this."
"The food and lodging you offered me for tonight sounded good enough payment."
The girl looked up at him in surprise again before ducking her head and muttering, "Oh, of course. Right this way."
Draco soon found himself sitting at a low, wooden table in a rickety chair he was sure would collapse any moment as she poured a ladle full of the soup she had been cooking earlier into a cracked bowl. He had never been so repulsed in his life. How did people live like this?
The girl seated herself across from him with her own serving and nervously began to pick at her food, glancing up every few seconds as if to make sure the food was to his liking. Draco almost slapped a palm to his forehead but instead mechanically forced a spoonful into his mouth.
It was disgusting, of course, but he plastered a smile on his face and asked, "So you live here alone with your mother?"
The girl jumped at the questions but quickly replied, "Y-yes. Ever since my father…" She died off and wrung her hands in anxiety before continuing, "Ever since my father was gone."
"It must have been difficult to manage on your own like this."
"It is," she said with a little more conviction. "My Mum…she really liked my father. I did too but I don't remember much, see? Just snippets and flashes."
Draco swirled his spoon in the soup. "Like?"
"Like sometimes I would look at something. Something like a particular place and I would remember but only then do I see." Her eyes took on a far-off look. "There was this one time the town had a small fair and I was just walking by the juggler at the corner when I suddenly remembered my father standing with me in the exact same spot and laughing. I was happy. My whole family was happy until they came and took him away -"
The girl cut off abruptly, stricken at her slip. Draco had to struggle to keep the self-satisfied smirk off his face and asked with a note of concern, "Somebody took your father away?"
"I-I'm not…no, I…Mum doesn't like me talking about it –"
"It's alright." Draco smiled disarmingly and leaned closer towards her and lowered his eyelids just enough to reveal the veil of his eyelashes. His voice lowered to a quiet murmur and he breathed, "It's alright. I will not speak of this. I see your mother so sick and you struggling so and my heart aches for your family. I just wish to know what happened to your father to see if I can do anything about it. Maybe I could help you there."
It worked like a charm. Immediately, the girl's posture slackened and she finally met his eyes in a blatant and naïve display of trust. To be honest, Draco would have been surprised if she had resisted. He had grown up playing this game with others far more cultured and devious than a simple witch living in a tiny hut with barely any magic to her name.
The girl took a deep breath and exhaled. "Well…the only real memory of my father that I can remember clearly is of the night he was taken away. It was just another night like any other. Mum was knitting in front of the fire and my father was resting. Then, suddenly, somebody knocked on the door and my father began to panic. He told us to hide in the cellar – we have a cellar by the way – and we hid. The only thing I could hear were voices demanding for – for –"
"Go on," Draco whispered and placed a comforting hand over hers in reassurance.
" – for his wand." She looked up fearfully at Draco as if she were expecting him to suddenly turn on her and drag her away like her father had been but when he only smiled at her, she relaxed again and continued. "My father refused many times and finally, there was shouting and spells, I think. Then it went silent. My Mum waited a good hour down in the cellar before finally climbing out of the cellar with me and by then my father had been taken. My Mum fancies that he just disappeared and will return but I know better. I know they took my Da away from me."
Draco feigned sadness and bit his lip while tightening his grip around the girl's hand. He honestly could have cared less about this girl's sob story. He had heard and seen far worse from other wizards who had resisted the loss of their wands. He had no doubt that the girl's father was one of them and was most likely dead by now. His Master had little patience for such rebels and most were killed on the spot. But he was doing all of this to gain her trust before launching into questions about Harry. Just a few more minutes on this nonsense and he could actually get to the real purpose of his being here.
"I am so sorry," he said consolingly. "I cannot say I have suffered as badly as you have and I wish, with all my heart, that I could do something for you, but…I fear that your father was a wizard who resisted the Dark Lord's decree and was taken for it."
The girl's eyes widened. "The Dark Lord?"
Draco nodded. "There was decree that all those who weren't proclaimed his followers had to give up their wands for the safety of the domain. Those who didn't comply were punished."
"That – that's horrible!" she gasped.
"It's not. The Dark Lord only asked so in order to make sure that no wizard or witch went wayward and alerted the Muggles any more than necessary. Surely you understand how catastrophic it would be if something such as magic were revealed to those non-magical beasts? They fear people like you and me. And they tend to destroy the things they fear."
The girl's eyes were wide but she seemed to soak in his words. She wasn't rebuffing him or shrinking away so Draco took it as a good sign.
"Me?" she asked. "I – I have magic?"
Good Lord was she really that dull? Surely she would have had at least one bout of accidental magic by now. Even the weakest of witches and wizards produced some sort of magical occurrence by the time they reached eight years old.
"I sensed your magic from the moment I met you," Draco murmured. "People like you and me are special. We can do things Muggles cannot. Can you not see how we are far more cultured, far more structured than those creatures who would persecute us merely for the abilities we were born with?"
The girl hesitated but tremblingly nodded in tentative agreement. "I suppose."
Draco nodded. "You see, I lost a friend of mine a few months ago. He just disappeared one day after watching a wizard be killed by a Muggle."
"That's horrible!" she burst out. "A Muggle really did that?"
Draco sneered to himself. Of course not. Harry would never let a Muggle touch him, let alone kill him. And any wizard could easily best a Muggle. They were inferior and it was ridiculous to even think something like that happening but it seemed to garner the girl's sympathy.
He bit his lip in mock emotion and gasped out, "I – I couldn't stand those countless days without my friend. We'd known each other for years and just suddenly he was gone…I think that killing really affected him and I'm searching for him now."
The girl's eyes flared at the excitement of being a part of another's secret and she eagerly leaned into him, putting her other hand over his and asked, "Can I help you? I would do everything I could! I owe you at least that much!"
Ah. The beauty of deception. It really was fun controlling people like this. "I came to this town because I think he might have passed by. He's about my height…maybe a little shorter with black hair and green eyes. He's also a wizard like me."
Recognition immediately flared in the girl's eyes and she smiled. "I know exactly who you're talking about!"
Maybe Draco's luck wasn't so bad after all. This was his first town and already he was running across Harry's tracks.
"Did you see him?"
"I did," she grinned. "I was visiting the nearby town, the next one over about ten miles from here, and the situation there had been terrible. The head of the town was taking too much and offering too little, see? And the townspeople weren't very happy about it but they couldn't do anything about it. They were beginning to starve over there despite the good season this year. Things were beginning to look bad." An excited air began to surround her. The more she spoke the more she seemed to gain confidence. "But just when things were going to go right down the hole…this one boy shows up out of nowhere."
Draco smiled in anticipation. "That sounds like him."
"He told the townspeople he could do it, fix the situation. I didn't think they would believe him and they didn't at first. But he spoke barely a few words more and they were all listening to him like he was the next Merlin reborn. And sure enough, he had the head of the town fixed up and all by the end of the day and things were looking up. Nobody ever learned who the kid was but I'm pretty sure everybody saw that boy's eyes despite his poor cloak. Most brilliant green I've ever seen."
That most definitely sounded like Harry. He could convince a basilisk it was a flobberworm if he wanted to and he had a way of making people do things the way he wanted them to do it with nothing more than some words.
He could still remember the very first meeting Harry had openly attended at the Dark Lord's side and even he had to admit that the night's performance had astonished him.
He had really been the Dark Lord's protégé.
~0~
Draco watched as the double doors opened with a magnificent flourish and saw the Dark Lord stride as he customarily did. He arrived with all the aura of power encasing him and he was as imposing as ever in dark emerald robes embroidered with enchanted platinum thread to shift in design and pattern with every rustle of the fabric. His pale face was immaculate and his eyes as piercingly crimson as ever but there was a collective stiffening of surprise at the figure that followed closely behind.
If Draco hadn't known better, he would have thought the Harry the Dark Lord's son of some sort. His hair was just as dark and his skin just as pale. His face was elegant and high cheekbones accented their appearance. There was only the difference in eye color and one seemed far less severe than the other but there was a certain fierceness and assurance in their countenance that seemed to dub them far closer than mere guardian and ward. Of course, Draco's father was one of the highest in the Inner Circle and Draco had known of Harry's position with the Master for years so he was apt to notice things that others wouldn't for some time.
The sudden lull in conversation served as the perfect silence for the Dark Lord's subsequent announcement. He came to a stop just at the outskirts of the throng and beckoned for Harry to come forward before placing a hand on his ward's shoulder in a strange, silent declaration of possession.
"This is Harry. He is my charge and has come with me tonight to taste events such as these for himself."
Harry looked at all of them with a cool air of quiet confidence and clearly said, "Thank you, my Lord. I must thank all of you as well for allowing me this experience."
There was a moment of almost awkward silence following this but the air of conversation and quickly came back to life as Harry was automatically swarmed by a crowd of surprised followers hungry for more information from a seemingly weak link.
Draco couldn't help but keep an eye on Harry the entire night. He watched in jealousy as the Dark Lord's protégé easily spoke to the Death Eaters and Inner Circle as if he were taking a simple afternoon stroll. He handled each situation with poise and finesse and although Draco was standing too far to hear any conversation, he knew that nobody managed to get anything more out of the other boy's lips. More often than not, he caught people appearing almost flustered and confused after exchanging a few words with the Dark Lord's charge. It amused him to a certain degree that they left with more questions than they had upon the outset.
So the night progressed in relative peacefulness (or as peaceful as a Death Eater event could go). But Draco knew that something would happen. Nothing so large as the introduction of the Dark Lord's personal charge could pass along so easily. Somebody would test him. Somebody would do something large enough in an attempt to reveal Harry for what he really was. The majority thought the seemingly inexperienced Harry would fail and they would take glee in finally discovering the Dark Lord's one mistake. But Draco knew it would go otherwise and he was determined to be as far away from Harry's retaliation as possible.
Sure enough, Draco heard a particularly loud Death Eater of the upper middle ranks speak in clear disdain. "Surely you are not Harry Potter, now are you?"
The Dark Lord had not introduced Harry with his last name on purpose. He knew the mass here would not take the mention of a Light name well and now that one Death Eater had somehow come across that juicy information, the confrontation that Draco knew would happen was happening.
"I am," Harry said simply.
The Death Eater sneered. "That's a Light name. What's a Light wizard doing as our Lord's ward?"
Harry's brilliant emerald eyes bore into his accuser's face and his voice took on a cold edge. "Who ever said anything about my being a Light wizard?"
"All Potters are Light. Everybody knows that. What right do you have to hide under our Master's protection and leech off his magnificence like the parasite you are?"
Harry's lips thinned. "I daresay I an far less of a parasite than you. At least I am useful in some form. You, on the other hand, spend the majority of your time trying to gain influence through petty squabbles rather than actually contributing to my Lord's cause."
The Death Eater turned a shade darker. "How dare you say that? You, who knows absolutely nothing about the true arena we must deal with daily."
"I think our definitions of 'the arena' are vastly different considering you spend the majority of your ventures on the comfortable seat of your leather chair back at your home which, I must mention, must be rather large in order to accommodate your girth."
"Why you insolent brat –"
"Bentse, if you think nobody is aware of your active inadequacy, then you are far more misguided than I initially thought." Harry smirked. "It's astonishing, really, how you even managed to make this far and remain somewhat intact. If the sheer amount of people who you annoy on a daily basis aren't after you yet, then I'm sure that those whom you have swindled into obscurity are already planning your downfall."
The Death Eater (was his name Bentse?) only got so far as opening his mouth and twitching his wand in some preemptive attack before he was screaming on the floor and writhing in agony. Anybody who hadn't been already watching the scene unfold was certainly watching now and all movement in the room had ceased.
Harry hadn't even moved or said a word. The only indication that he was the one performing the spell was his fierce gaze upon the wailing man. His emerald eyes seemed to blaze with deadly fire and he shivered from the intensity of it.
A smile slowly found its way on to Harry's face and he slowly paced around Bentse, his hand held loosely behind his back and never lifting his eyes from the man's form. It appeared something like a fierce predator encircling his prey and playing with it before the final devouring.
"Such weakness," Harry mused in an almost amused tone. "But I suppose I couldn't have expected much from such a pathetic excuse for a wizard. You are truly not worth my Lord's time or presence. Groveling will only get you so far." He abruptly approached Bentse's screaming form and shoved a shoe onto the man's chest, standing over him. He allowed the spell to cease and the man was left whimpering on the floor with Harry's weight on him.
Harry bent down and grinned, "But I would rather like to see you grovel, Bentse. It would amuse me so if you would beg. Lick my shoes and beg."
Amazingly, the Death Eater's eyes flashed with some rebellion and he spat, "Make me you son of a bitch."
The next moment Bentse was screaming again as the skin on the right side of the man's face began to slowly peel itself away. The gruesome sinew and muscle could be seen beneath and the red dye of blood began to paint the floor beneath a crimson that matched the Dark Lord's eyes.
"All you need to do is beg," Harry purred. "Beg like the mongrel you are."
The man resisted for a few moments more but even Draco was beginning to feel a little sick as the right half of the man's face was beginning to look nothing more than a bloody mass with the eye rolling in its socket. By the time the right side was finished, Bentse seemed to relax marginally in relief before the left side began to peel from the forehead down.
He broke then. Bentse whimpered from his mutilated mouth and Harry took that hint to step off the man's chest. A pleased smile graced Harry's face as the man began to kiss bloody lips to his shoes and when the torture still didn't cease, Bentse began to lick and beg in some contorted words that were unintelligible from a half-destroyed mouth.
"See how easy that was?" Harry sweetly asked as the man licked. "So simple. I hope you've learned your lesson this time, pet. I would hate to have my shoes stained again like this. But this is good. This is good."
The skin abruptly stopped peeling and there was a frozen moment of pure relief in Bentse's body before he collapsed, unconscious before Harry.
So Harry would allow the Death Eater to live. It seemed to be an almost anticlimactic ending to such a show, a failure to complete the job. But Draco saw this ploy for what it was. It was far crueler to leave the man alive now that his face was permanently destroyed beyond repair. There were potions, of course, to ease the pain and maybe even heal it to a degree but even if he did regrow the skin, the man's face would forever be in a state of uncontrollable spasms because the nerves would never perfectly reattach again. By leaving Bentse alive, Harry was leaving a living testimony of his power, his influence. This way, nobody would ever forget that Harry Potter was not somebody to be trifled with and somebody that deserved to be by the Dark Lord's side.
Despite being a middle class Death Eater, Bentse had had some merit to his name and was by no means completely weak. Many of the followers would have been hard pressed to defeat the man because of his spell repertoire. This just proved that Harry had the power to completely crush one of high rank without so much as a blink of an eye.
The hall had fallen deathly silent and only when the Dark Lord finally extracted himself from the side did the mass take a breath.
"I think I shall retire for the night," the Lord said. He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder again and a hint of an actual smile tilted the man's lips. "And my charge will as well."
Hastily murmured farewells and bows of respect were exchanged before the pair headed towards the entrance doors again. Draco stood, waiting towards the exit and watched as the Dark Lord passed by without so much as a glance. He hadn't expected anything from his Master but when Harry came into Draco's vicinity, he caught the protégé's eyes and saw the slight repulsion and discomfort at destroying another human being's life flicker in emerald orbs for the briefest second. It was no more than a second, but it was enough and some of the tension that only a select few could see in Harry's shoulders lessened, knowing that somebody understood.
The Dark Lord would only be pleased with the performance tonight. But Draco had provided the one moment of weakness Harry had needed.
~0~
"I'm very proud of you, my Horcrux," Tom whispered into Harry's ear as he slowly helped pull off the formal robes that Harry had worn to the night's event. "I don't think I could have done much better myself. And keeping the man alive? I was displeased with your decision at first. But in hindsight, I see the brilliance of it."
Harry didn't say a word. He only stood quietly as his guardian peeled off his outer layers as he had once done when Harry was younger and a little more helpless in such a complicated array of cloth.
"Ah…you cannot be feeling remorse for what you have done, could you?"
"Of course not," Harry replied smoothly, only a hint of amusement in his voice. "Bentse had it coming. All of those other events I have watched the oaf blunder about as if it is his right and I was rather pleased that he, of all people, dared to confront me. It was a pleasure to destroy him."
Tom laughed pulled the rest of Harry's outer layers off. His charge now only wore a simple dress shirt and vest with pants and dress shoes. He made no motion to help Harry with those so Harry promptly began to loosen his vest on his own.
"I would like to keep Bentse as my pet," Harry said. "I shall keep him alive a little bit longer but when his usefulness runs its course, I shall send somebody to dispose of him."
Tom smiled and he reached down to pick up the outer robes that had been so carelessly discarded on the floor. He opened his mouth to speak again but stopped as a curious expression overcame his features.
Harry tensed as he realized exactly what had caught his guardian's attention and he watched apprehensively as Tom pulled out the parcel he had been fingering earlier that evening.
"What is this?" Tom hissed with a slight edge to his tone.
Harry felt a flutter of panic in his chest but he remained composed and replied, "It's a gift."
"For whom?"
Harry couldn't help but bite his lips. "It's…It's for you, Tom."
The Dark Lord seemed to freeze on the spot. All indication that the man was a living, breathing being seemed to disappear as Harry agonized over his decision. Tonight really hadn't been the right night to give it. He had finally completely pleased Tom and now he only brought back dark memories and his dark mood.
Harry was prepared for the harsh retaliation but was surprised when none came.
"What is it?" Tom asked, dropping the Parseltongue.
Warmth blossomed where panic once occupied and Harry allowed a gentle smile escape. "Open it and see."
Tom almost seemed to hesitate before gripping the green ribbon adorning the small, black box and untying it. His pale fingers skimmed over the lid before lifting it and resting his eyes upon his present.
He slowly pulled out a bangle crafted entirely out of platinum and formed to perfectly fit hi arm. Small runes were inscribed on the exterior and, if he were to look on the inner side, other symbols of power marked it.
To avoid the silence that Harry knew would follow, he blurted, "I made it myself. I know it is probably nowhere near as perfect as you could have made it or as intricate but in my defense, I have only been studying this sort of thing for four years. It's enchanted to –"
" – protect the wearer from a variety of deadly spells and serve as a connection to a twin bangle," Tom finished.
Harry was almost disappointed that his guardian had recognized its function before he could explain but he nodded and strode over to a drawer to pull out an identical bangle.
"I won't mind if you don't wear it. I just thought that maybe…" Harry couldn't finish the thought. He just didn't want to say anything related to Tom's birthday or Christmas for fear that it would ruin the man's odd acceptance.
Finally, the Dark Lord murmured, "I shall wear it. There is nothing wrong with the smallest bit of extra caution." A sly smile quirked his lips. "Even if it is mediocre."
Harry couldn't stop the full-out happiness from pervading his face. Tom had accepted his gift and that in itself had been worth the entire evening and more.
Alright, alright. I know it's been forever. And I have been saying that a lot lately. I suppose you're going to have to attribute it to my sudden reawakening love for Avatar (no, not the blue people, the actual legit one). I was hit with an idea for another story so I started another and got a bit sidetracked...
But please don't think that I am, in any way, ever going to drop this. I honestly have too many ideas for this one too and honestly, I just love Harry and Voldie. I know I haven't mentioned Voldie much so that's why this chapter is so saturated with memories of him :) I am planning on involving him a lot more later on but there's much to be done and said about what's going on in Hogwarts with Harry. It's going to be a while before any long action will happen between the two in anything outside of memories.
And Voldie might be a little OOC in the last scene...I don't know if he would actually accept it. But this is my AU so mwahaha I'm gonna make him take it :) But of course I'm never going to have him spout some sentimental crap. It just wouldn't work with somebody like Voldemort. He is a freaking psychopath. Or pretty damn close to it. So the only reason why he might be so accepting towards Harry is because psychopaths only care for themselves. And Harry, carrying a piece of Voldie's soul, counts. So, technically, Voldie is only being the tiniest bit of sentimental towards himself. Which is completely psychopathic.
This chapter was also more of a interlude type of thing and introducing Draco's little dilemma of hunting down Harry. Poor Draco. Next few chapters will primarily feature Harry and his antics at Hogwarts. They will turn a little bit (okay, a lot) more morbid in the oncoming chapters. Initially, I painted Harry as the reluctant to cause pain type of guy (although he was more than capable of causing pain). But he did grow up around Voldie so it's kind of expected that he would have a sort of taste for torture and the whole shebang. Notice that he doesn't completely revel in it like some sadistic creep but he can and does enjoy to a degree but also manages to feel remorse afterwards.
This aspect of Harry will play a key role in the oncoming chapters. So if he becomes a little...unhinged and less of the gray type of character then that is why.
I mentioned in my previous chapter that Harry's soul was completely dedicated to the Dark. Yes, in the first chapter I said he was of neither loyalty...and that STILL stands. His soul, his magic might be Dark but that is completely different from his LOYALTIES. The Light barrier actually only measures loyalties and since Harry is kind of iffy on that, he has yet to be burned to a crisp :)
PS No editing this time either so sorry about mistakes Xl
PPS I suck at those torture scenes guys. Really, I do. So if it just sounded lame then I'm really really really sorry and I'm still working on them :(
PPPS I also have no idea about medical jargon and theory and whatnot. So if I messed up somewhere in Draco's diagnosis then I'm sorry about that too. I just kind of made it up as I went.