And it's out!
Oh, hey there. It's been a while, huh?
Yeah, it's a bit of a story actually. You see, this fanon took over my mind, then immediately declared war upon the mindset I need to write this story. Once I got over my small relapse in shojo manga, with the help of those good mentally messed up ninja (with a side-effect of a small addiction to the Naruto world, but it's not like it's a bad thing, right?), I finally went back to work.
Then a black cat got lost on its way of life and happened to cross the road in front of an old lady carrying way too much groceries... It was horrible.
Anyway! I hope you enjoy this new chapter!
Disclaimer : I don't own Harry Potter.
As soon as Harry was out of his room, he had been 'led' to the room the Minister was waiting in (he had doubts about the true motive behind this escort, considering that the tall muscled Auror looked at him as if he was going to bolt instead of looking out for an attacker – Riddle called him a traditional sort of Auror, existing more to fill in the ranks of canon fodder and give an impression of strength rather than to do actual work in the fields). Standing next to the door had been another Auror, an old-looking one who didn't seem happy to be where he was. After exchanging a nod that didn't quite looked like a greeting between counterparts, the old Auror had taken over Harry-Watch duty while his partner went to station himself at the end of the corridor.
Harry flinched when a hand curled threateningly around his arm, only just keeping himself from retaliating as Riddle glared at the older wizard. A wand was pointed under his nose and his breath hitch – why was he threatening him?! Stop fucking touching him! Get away from him!
"What do you think you're doing, Sirius Black?" The wizard growled, the wand's tip glowing red.
…what?
The words made Harry's face melt into an unimpressed stare, his uneasiness gone when he understood what the other was trying to do. On a side note, he really had to think of something to do about the Tower's brain cells draining power, because he'd bet his wand arm that the Auror before him had been a Gryffindor. Or, if less likely, a Hufflepuff (because the House certainly has its fair share of idiots, but again most Houses did), but most badgers seemed to associate physical contact with comfort instead of aggression like the rest of Hogwarts. So he was very likely to have been a lion, the pride of Hogwarts doing most of said aggression in the school to begin with.
"Harry, please meet Traditional Auror Number Two." Riddle said in a pleasant voice, an odd lilt to his voice saying that he was completely not thinking flattering thoughts. "Considering his pathetic magical aura and pitiful intimidation skills, he was probably stuck with babysitting duty despite his years of so-called experience in the Auror Corps' offices. His family or friends, if he ever had any, most likely put a word out for him at the Ministry, since I do not give him enough credits to have passed his end of the year exams at Hogwarts, never mind his O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s."
Harry huffed in response to Riddle's mockeries, then gave the Auror his best uncooperative expression. "My name is Harry James Potter. Tom told me the Minister was here to see me and I came."
The suspicious look he got from his answer might have made a guilt-ridden child to spill his guts over an old case of candy-smuggling in the nursery. It looked more like the man was twisting his face in an ugly mask, and without the serious glint in his eyes one could have mistaken the man's motive to be a jesting one.
Harry didn't laugh. It was a very close call, but he managed to resist the urge. Riddle scoffed with disdainful contempt, a sound Harry had surprisingly not heard before – a quick look to the side informed him that the young Dark Lord was wearing a disgusted expression, one that pulled at his lips, nose and eyebrows and twisted his beauty into a mildly threatening, less-than-perfect fleshy face. Not to the point of looking rabid or simply mad, but just as approachable (which meant that anyone seeing that face would feel the desire to turn heels and run away – this expression said that he might just let you do it, too, if you were quick enough about it).
Harry noticed that he didn't felt his scar twinge, not even a little bit, when it was clear that Riddle was upset. Did that meant that Riddle was usually hurting him on purpose (which would not surprise him), or that there was an element of the pattern he had yet to understand?
He was forcibly shoved into the private meeting room before he could continue that particular line of thought. Two more Aurors were guarding the door in the inside of the room, while another was coming and going in the back, walking exactly one meter behind the seated form of the Minister of Magic.
Cornelius Fudge, Harry realised, looked even more nervous in person than he did in the Daily Prophet's pictures. Of course, announcing the capture of the responsible for the self-transfiguring pebbles tripping people in Diagon Alley was not the same thing as coming out in the open to tell a teenager that a murderer was after him – or so they (as in Harry and Riddle) thought was the reason behind this little meeting. Surely the Minister would not show up in person to summon Harry to the Ministry?
"Hello, Minister." Harry greeted politely.
"Ah, Harry!" The Minister pulled himself out of his chair (with great difficulties, as the chair was fluffy and the man portly) and walked toward Harry, holding out a hand that Harry shook with a repressed wince – the hand was sweaty and, just like Aunt Petunia's arms, squidgy. "The Boy-Who-Lived, eh? Oh, what are my manners? Please sit, sit! I had Tom bring me some tea, if Earl Grey is fine with you? Excellent! Augustine, please pour us a cup each."
"Thank you." Harry said when the Auror previously walking behind the Minister paused in his duties to play servant. He got a nod in reply, before his attention returned to his duties. Harry decided that it was time to get the conversation started so that he could learn the reason(s) of why the Minister was there. "Excuse me if I'm blunt, Minister, but may I enquire as to why you wanted to see me?"
The Minister sipped his tea, causing Riddle to make an irritated sound at the obvious attempt to delay his answer. This time, his scar itched for about two point three seconds, before Riddle straightened his back and started walking around them, passing through Auror Augustine like he didn't exist when the Auror turned unexpectedly.
"Yes, well…" Fudge blinked, before turning his eyes on Harry, then looking down and taking one of the pastries on the table between them. "I probably did not need to come in person, but my schedule was free and I wanted to make sure you were safe in person."
"Someone has been doing interferences between you and the Ministry." Riddle spoke up, almost making Harry look at him – he fortunately caught himself in time. "To isolate you from them, to keep their influences away from you. I don't think I need to tell you who was being this."
Harry agreed, even if he was a bit confused as to how the older teen had gotten to this conclusion with only one sentence. He'd ask later, if he still didn't understand.
"I'm very grateful." Harry replied gently. "But safe from what?"
The Minister bit into his scone, once again delaying his answer. Harry inwardly scowled – didn't he get his speech prepared beforehand or something? Like : Harry Potter needs to be told this, that and that ; he must not know this and this. It wasn't that hard to plan ahead, was it?
And yes, he was perfectly aware that he was being somewhat hypocritical. But Harry thrived on improvisation (he was still alive, it was all the proofs he needed), while the Minister clearly didn't, so it wasn't that big of a deal.
"After what happened with your uncle," the Minister started, pausing when Harry flinched to give him a reassuring smile, "it has come to the Ministry's attention that a few wards against your home were illegal. You are in no way in trouble for them, because they are too old for you to have been able to cast them, but a particular ward had been concealing information from the Ministry-regulated wards put in the area when you were accepted into Hogwarts. Information that could have prevented your familial situation from becoming what it is now. It isn't rare when muggles react badly to our world and a few Ministry-approved spells are often all that is needed to correct the guardians' behaviour toward the children. It is for this reason that, while we would have returned you to your home considering the current situation, the Ministry will instead post an Auror guard at the Leaky Cauldron as well as double the security in Diagon Alley. Since this is mostly for your security, we will ask of you that you do not leave the area until a Ministry chauffeur is sent for you on September 1st."
The first thing Harry understood was that the Wizarding World had an even poorer attitude toward muggles than he had thought – the second was that, by the Minister's orders, he was obligated not to got back to the Dursleys'. A wide grin spread on his lips as he nodded and assured the Minister that he wouldn't leave, because while he was being ordered, he was also being saved from going back to his relatives' home – he had a solid reason not to return, and for this he decided that he would play nice with the Minister.
Riddle seemed to have followed his thoughts and scoffed again, probably calling him un-ambitious and easily pleased in not-so-gentle words in his mind. Harry ignored him.
"Good." Minister Fudge said with a pleased expression. "Now that this is over with, we can talk about your family's fate. Normally this would have been done at the Ministry, but this room is secure enough and Augustine here will serve as witness. Alright?"
Harry nodded, but he knew that he didn't really had a choice. This was most likely another reason for the Minister to visit him – Auror Augustine was probably someone the Minister felt was loyal to him, so anything Cornelius Fudge didn't want known would never leave this room. It made Harry wonder what about this made the Minister think he'd have to meddle with, or what could possibly hurt his career.
Riddle also made an interested sound, which managed to make Harry nervous where meeting the Minister didn't. But, of course, a wanna-be Dark Lord would always be scarier than a portly wizard, especially since the first could torture Harry with a thought. He very much doubt that Fudge would torture him in a public building, too.
The Minister took a deep breath, then started speaking again. "Because your uncle, and we were recently made aware of his sister, was not related to you, he would normally have received a 'promotion' of sort at his job, to disguise his disappearance, then be sent to the Tower, a wizard-kept muggle prison, but with his death his family will only have to pay you an amount of gold for years of ill-treatments. Marjorie, Dudley and Petunia Dursley will be judged once the legal mourning period is over, so in three months, but since you will be in school it was decided to do your interrogation now, then during the Christmas holidays if any more points were brought up. Augustine, if you would?"
The Auror scowled, but stopped walking and stood behind the Minister, before pulling a red notebook and a gold quill.
"Now, I will ask you a few questions and you must answer truthfully." The Auror gave a dark glare behind the Minister's head, adding the 'or else' his boss wasn't saying. "It's only protocol, but I understand that a few questions might upset you, so take your time answering them. We have the whole morning to do this and I'm sure Tom won't mind if we take a little bit longer."
Of course he won't mind, you're the Minister of Magic, Harry thought with a shy polite smile.
"July 12, 1993, approximately seven o'clock, Room 12 at the Leaky Cauldron, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge as Prime Interrogator. Auror Frederic Augustine as Prime Witness and Script." Harry jumped in his seat when a voice spoke from behind him. One of the Aurors guarding the room had stepped closer to them and had started speaking, Auror Augustine's quill running across his notebook without the man even holding it – why was he even the Script, then? "Me, Auror Hubert Sloper, as Overseer. Auror Armand Kiely as Second Witness. Hogwarts student Harry Potter as interviewee."
Fudge cleared his throat, then spoke with a loud and authoritative voice. "Cornelius Fudge speaking. May the interviewee say his name and date of birth."
"Harry Potter, July 31st. 1980." Harry added at the sharp look given to him by the not-so-nice-looking Auror Sloper.
"May the interviewee narrate what happened on June 25th, 1993."
"May the interviewee explain why he left the Dursley home on June 27th, 1993."
"May the interviewee list the offences against his person he suffered from associating with the Dursley family."
"May the interviewee inform this party of what he knows about the wards on the Dursley propriety."
It went on and on, Harry answering with half-truths whenever he needed to mention something that could possibly hinted at his less-than-innocent personality. He certainly didn't want to know if the strange quill would react to a lie, because then he would have to explain why he had lied and what was the truth he had tried to hide.
They finished one hour before noon, which the Minister took as an opportunity to ask Harry about his life – how was school, who were his friends, were those rumours about Harry finding the Chamber of Secret and fighting its monster was true?
Riddle had advised him to answer cautiously about the Chamber, so Harry decided to deviate the conversation to the previous year's 'adventure'. About how Professor Dumbledore had used the Philosopher Stone as a bait for the surviving Lord Voldemort. Fudge had reacted in an interesting way when he mentioned that, after the usual shiver of fear and unease. Riddle looked smug at that.
"Harry, my boy, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead." Fudge replied softly, as if speaking to a mentally deficient boy. Harry twitched a the tone.
Harry was about to insist that Voldemort was very much alive, but then he paused and turned to look at Riddle, seemingly watching the painting the older teen was standing in front of.
"He said that he was Vol… him." Harry said, interrupting himself at the apprehensive look the Minister gave him. "He said that if I gave him the Stone, that he'd bring my parents back. And his skin burned when I touched him. Headmaster Dumbledore said that V… he had never really died."
"Well, he was lying, probably trying to conceal his lapse in security and judgement. He could be excused for falling to You-Know-Who's schemes, but to a normal wizard?" Fudge looked like he was trying not to snap, pursing his lips a little and twisting his handkerchief in his sweaty palms. Then he sighed, and said strongly : "You killed You-Know-Who almost twelve years ago. The Aurors who investigated your old home found his ashes in the ruins."
Harry shrugged, uneasy. He never really liked the fact that everybody just assumed that he had killed the powerful if insane wizard because he had been the only survivor. He still knew better than to hint at someone else having done the deed, because, while his fame was unwanted, he certainly appreciated the perks of being a celebrity (a.k.a people giving him special treatment and not punishing him harshly when he broke the rules).
"I'm sorry." Harry whispered, sounding ashamed. "It's just, Headmaster Dumbledore…"
"Is an old man trying to capitalize on his reputation of Dark Lord slayer." Fudge insisted arrogantly. "He probably wanted to use you to 'recreate' You-Know-Who, to relive the glory of defeating a powerful enemy. No, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead, Harry. Don't let anyone else persuade you otherwise."
Harry nodded shyly. "Yes, Sir."
"Good." The Minister nodded fiercely. "Then I must say that our time together has come to an end. I have an appointment at one o'clock, you see…"
"I understand, Minister." Harry said gently. "Thank you for your time."
"Ah, yes, yes…" The man rose from his seat and headed for the door, patting Harry's shoulder as he passed by him. "Enjoy the rest of your summer vacations, Harry."
Harry gritted his teeth as the Aurors followed the Minister out. He took the last scone on the plate (the Minister had felt a bit too awkward to pick it, considering that he had eaten all of the others Tom had left in the room, and Harry had just enjoyed watching the man give it painful longing looks) and bit into it, waiting for Riddle to give his assessment of the situation.
"You're toeing a fine line." Riddle finally said, sitting in the seat the Minister had just vacated. Harry figured that, since he had no body, he didn't had an actual weight or mass – Riddle was just a soul using a projection his old body's image to interact with the world, right? – so he wasn't really sitting, just looking like he was sitting. "You agreed with the Minister that my older self was gone, when Dumbledore knows that you know that you truly met me a few times. And your perfect story will probably sound a little too perfect to his ears – he never really believed me or my allies whenever we did some cover-up."
Harry hummed, sipping his cold tea. His scar stung in warning and he gave the other teen a small glare, opening his mouth to show the half-masticated food inside – thus explaining why he wasn't talking. Riddle gave him a disgusted look, but didn't insist on the issue.
"You did a good enough job of covering your trail." Riddle continued as if he had never stopped and Harry startled at the compliment, immediately wary of the teen. Why would he butter Harry up for? The teenage Dark Lord knew that sucking up to Harry wouldn't get him into his good graces, so what was he planning?! "Just be ready for some of it to end in the Daily Prophet. Fudge seems to have a vendetta against Dumbledore and probably didn't appreciate the tinkering wards on your house. Your Uncle's death is a perfect opportunity for him to attack the old man's reputation by putting the blame of your abuse on his shoulder."
"The blame already is there." Harry retorted, scowling a little. "He wants me miserable – if all he had wanted was the Blood Wards for my protection, then he still could have used those mind-altering Ministry spells to make sure they treated me right. And it's not like I ever hid however they treated me. Or how they felt about me."
"But you never outright said it, I gather." Riddle didn't seem to mock him, which made him even more suspicious.
Actually, Harry was two breaths away from reaching the paranoid-level, Riddle's uncharacteristic patience and niceness not going well with him… and bloody Merlin! Did that made him some sort of masochist if he preferred the short-tempered, easily annoyed, condescending sadist Riddle usually was to this level-headed, emotionless personality twist? For some reason, the latter seemed scarier; it was like he could explain how exactly he will torture you for his sole pleasure in a purely mechanical and factual voice.
Then Riddle sighed, tilting his head and frowning with a displeased expression on his face. Harry already felt better at the small show of emotion. "It doesn't matter anymore. Now that your Ministry interview is done with, we can start training seriously. I shall instruct you in the art of Occlumency and we will spend the rest of the summer asserting your abilities. I refuse to teach you if you cannot reach an acceptable level of competence, especially if I have to suffer through Divination with you for the next five years."
Harry winced behind his cup, sipping the cold beverage not to give his apprehension away. Being trained by Riddle? A nightmare hidden behind a dream: he'd probably learn a lot of wonderful and powerful magics, but Riddle would probably be a slave driver. Scratch that, he was a sadistic slave driver.
The following weeks were filled with curses, tears, aching muscles and a throbbing mind. Riddle would take advantage of their connection as often as possible to inflict pain to his poor, innocent little student whenever he thought that Harry was not giving everything he had to his studies.
The young Potter only got some respite when he was fetched from his room by what Riddle had called his 'ginger minion and walking-brain friend' – Riddle called it a reward for meeting his standards within two months, Harry saw it as a much needed breather after climbing out of some new sort of Hell.
Because while he understood the necessity of hiding Riddle's continuing existence from people fishing for information in his mind, he didn't quite understand why he needed to relive, again and again, every humiliating moments of his life (because that was what Riddle was primarily digging for – it made him furious afterward, for some reason, causing their connection to give Harry a potent headache, but he still didn't look for anything else. Maybe Riddle was a closet masochist under all that sadism?).
Riddle was strange. And Harry was going to have to live with him, in close quarters, for the whole next five years.
He didn't weep, but it was a close call.
