Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended. The story and chapter titles come from the Edith Piaf song of the same name, and do not belong to me, either.


Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien

Chapter 11: C'est Payé

On Monday morning Harry woke to find that he had had a wet dream, again. He had finally taken to keeping a roll of toilet paper next to his bed for this very purpose. He didn't remember what it had been about, but he did remember flashes of blonde hair. He wiped the cum off of his stomach and saw something out of the corner of his eye. There was another letter on his desk. As his window was open, he assumed that the owl had been by, slipped the letter through the bars on his window, and left. His heart beat fast in his chest. He recognized the writing on the font of the letter. Erastes. This letter, like the last, was charmed to bloom from a flower to a letter when he touched it. It read:

Dear Eromenos,

I wish I could allay any of your doubts regarding the sincerity of my affection, but I am afraid that the only way is for me to continue showing you the truth of it until you believe. I can only assure you that I wish you no harm.

I would enjoy getting to know you better. I must say that I am sad and outraged at the treatment you receive while with your relatives. I am sure there is a lot you are not telling me regarding your relatives, but I understand your reluctance to share more. I only wish there were something I could do to help.

If you have not figured it out, I am older than you. I assume that you have, though, from your use of 'Eromenos.' I always knew you were intelligent. I am married, but please do not fret. It was an arranged marriage. My wife is often away and when she is not, we are apart as much as possible. I am alone much of the time. I am afraid I don't really have friends. I have associates, as I have trouble entrusting my confidence to other people, and am an intensely private person.

To tell the truth of it, I have always been a reserved person, prone to bouts of silence and deep thought. I believe this makes me seem unapproachable. People think that I am cold, and maybe even a little sinister, when in fact I am merely reserved and quiet. When I was younger this made me more mature than my peers, and so we never really got on; I have never made friends easily. Even still, with the realization that my reticence is what pushes people away, I have only two people I consider friends.

You mentioned ending each letter with little known personal facts. When I was in school I excelled in charms work. It was my greatest desire to be a charms master. But it was deemed an unfit profession by my father, and so I accepted an occupation at the ministry instead.

You should be getting your OWL results soon. They will be sent out this morning, so you should be receiving them later this day or tomorrow. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

With affection,

Erastes

Harry set down the letter with a small smile on his face. He had learned a lot about Erastes in this letter. He was right, too, that there was no way for him to prove the trueness of his affection but by showing him continually. And considering how intelligent Erastes seemed, Harry wasn't surprised that he had picked up his allusions to his treatment at the Dursley's. Harry hadn't actually said anything outright, but Erastes has successfully discerned the truth. Harry was not surprised that he was married, come to think of it, considering how Erastes was older, but he was still sad. He didn't feel right getting in with a married man. He felt like a hypocrite thinking that, considering that he already had, but there was a difference between one night of passion and consciously beginning a relationship with a married man. Even if the wife was frigid, and it had been implied that she regularly cheated on her husband. He idly wondered if it worked the other way around, too, and he was just one of many for Erastes. He would just have to wait, and in the meantime hope and trust this was not the case, at least anymore.

Harry really felt for the man that seemed very lonely. He had a distant wife, almost no friends, and a job that he didn't want. Harry knew very distinctly what it was like to have no friends. The entire Dursley family had, after all, taken it upon themselves to assure this fact. He could easily see the fact that as a quiet, reserved boy, Erastes would have had few friends. It was natural to ignore or fear what could not be understood. He was glad that Erastes had at least two friends. He himself hadn't had friends until he got to Hogwarts, and even now he had two best friends, about six close acquaintances, and a hundred or so people that he would consider acquaintances or hangers-on. And the man had a job that he was pushed into by his father. He could see the man's love of charms just from the charms on the letters he had sent. It seemed sad that such a passion and talent was wasted on the ministry.

Harry put the letter aside to reply to later. He dressed in his hand-me-downs from Dudley, made his bed, re-hid his library books, and slipped on his shoes. As he was about to leave, he noticed an owl about a couple hundred meters from his window, flying straight towards him. It had to be the OWL Results. He waited for the owl to arrive and relieved it of its burden. Before he could offer it a treat, it flew off. He quickly opened it, as he was already late, and scanned it. Seven OWLs, all told. Not bad. He hadn't been expecting History of Magic, Divination, or Astronomy to turn out all that well, after all. He had been sidetracked in two of them, and Divination was Divination. Then he realized that without an 'O' in Potions, he wouldn't be able to be in NEWT level Potions— which meant no being an Auror. But, he told himself, he wasn't sure if he wanted to be an Auror anymore anyway. He had just said it because he couldn't think of anything else. It was like a kid saying he wanted to be a policeman when he grew up. He didn't even know what kinds of jobs there were in the Wizarding world. He resolved to check it out when he got back to Hogwarts. It became number six on his list of things to research.

"Boy!"

Oh, crap, he was late. "Coming!" he shouted. And with that he raced down the stairs.

ooooooooooooooooo

Harry was weeding the garden when he heard a muffled sound coming from the fence. At first he thought it might be one of the neighbors, but then he realized that he didn't recognize the voice, or what the person was saying.

"Ve rrge vings kerming vhy zagain, ooe bust tay till. Eery till. Izh callot shee oas iv ooe zare till."

Harry sat very still, wondering what kind of language that was. It didn't sound like any language he knew, magical or not.

"What?" He whispered.

"Oo, zhust tay till. Shh. Itzh callot shee us iv ooe are till."

"Hello?"

Harry waited for a response for a good two minutes before he realized that one was going to come. He went back to weeding, albeit a little slower than before. After a couple minutes he forgot all about the strange whispering, and went right back to his former thoughts. Memories of his night with Lucius Malfoy had served him well the past two and a half weeks, occupying his mind while he worked. It certainly made his days less tedious. He thought about Lucius's normally steely eyes clouded with lust. He remembered the expression on his face when Harry lied for him. It was pure surprise, an odd emotion to see on the normally stoic man. Then it had become cool calcu—

"Zhit gone? Ooe bust go vack to shunvathing. Ooe bust do oar pushes."

There. He had definitely heard something. It seemed clearer that time, too.

"Mow, mow!"

Harry had opened his mouth to speak but before he could say anything something darted out of the bushes and onto a rock a few feet away. It was a lizard. It was about 15 cm long, and green, with dark green and yellow spots in two rows down its back.

"O, crack! Ve lrrge ving till dere! Tay till, it kern't shee ous."

Harry's mouth opened in his shock. He could understand what it was saying! Well, not really. But he could hear words that vaguely sounded familiar coming out of its mouth, which was more than he could say for most people. He wondered if it was some sort of extension of his Parseltongue abilities.

"Hello?" he hissed at it.

"Ooat? Ooat? Ooat ish dat?"

Harry gasped. He understood it that time! It sounded garbled, but he head heard (he thought) 'what, what, what is that?'

"It's me. Harry."

The lizard spun around to look up at him. "Ze lrrg ding! Ooat doesh it shay?"

"I'm Harry. Can you understand me?" Harry said very slowly.

"Se lrrg ding! It shpeak to ous!"

Harry realized that he was slowly becoming used to the accent that the lizard spoke with. It was becoming easier to understand. "Can you understand what I'm saying?"

After a pause, the lizard replied, "Yrs."

"What is your name?"

"Ooat ish e mame?"

"A name is what you are called. I am called Harry."

"Ooe do mot habe e mame."

"Can I give you a name?"

"Yrs." If it was possible for a lizard to sound indifferent, this one did.

Harry thought. A name for a lizard. A lizard. "How does Lazarus sound?"

"Razres? Ooe egree."

"La-za-rus." Harry thought that maybe the lizard was hearing his speech garbled as well.

Lazarus was speaking something, but all of a sudden Harry felt the world turn itself upside down. He put out a hand to support himself. He felt fine, so he just thought that it must have been a dizzy spell from the heat until Lazarus spoke again.

"What is wrong with the large thing?"

"What?" Harry realized that he could understand perfectly fine what Lazarus had said. It only sounded as if there was a gurgling sound in the background. He didn't know what happened, but it worked, and he wasn't going to complain.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. I can understand you perfectly now."

"We can too."

Harry could think of nothing to say that didn't sound stupid. What was he supposed to say, 'So, sun bathing, huh?' or 'What are you doing here?' Lame.

Eventually, he didn't have to say anything. Lazarus spoke first. "What do you do?"

"What am I doing, you mean?"

"Yes."

"I'm pulling weeds."

"Why?"

"My aunt and uncle told me to."

"What are aunt and uncle?"

"The are my female sire's sister and her mate."

"Ah. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you do this?"

"I have to do chores."

"What are chores?"

The conversation went like this for a while, Harry quietly hissing answers back and forth to the inquisitive lizard. It would have been annoying had it not been the first conversation longer than ten seconds he had had since getting to Privet Drive. The lizard had to ask the meaning of many words, and the reasons behind his actions, but after having to repeat himself a few times, Lazarus seemed to retain information. So, Lazarus slowly learned about the human world, and Harry supposed that he was relatively smart, for being a lizard.

By the end of the day, he had learned the way to a lizard's heart: its stomach. He fed it a worm that he had dug up, and after that it followed him around asking questions and demanding more food. It was quite funny to see Lazarus trailing behind him as he mowed the lawn, trying to shout to be heard above the racket of the lawnmower.

Eventually, he had learned to explain terms before Lazarus had to ask, and so conversations went much more smoothly than they did at first. So it turned out that while be pruned the roses and hedges, he spoke in a monologue to Lazarus about his problems, his concerns, and even told him about the Dursleys and about Erastes. Lazarus listened to his speech while sunbathing, and occasionally eating bugs which were either hunted by him or given to him by Harry. Lazarus, being an animal, had a simple yet humorous view of the world, and gave interesting advice. For example, he had told Lazarus that Ron and Hermione had yet to write. The concept of writing letters to communicate had taken a while to explain. Harry wasn't sure if he completely understood.

"So what if they do not write? You need this not. You see them, greet them. If they give you a cricket, then it is okay. There is no need for the fretting about not seeing each other. It is that way with animals. They do not need letters."

Harry thought Lazarus's way of explaining himself incredibly amusing, but understood the sentiments nonetheless. So, though the advice was humorous, he thought maybe it was the best type of advice. Keep things simple. He would see them eventually, they would most likely apologize, and then they could tell him what went on in person. The unnecessary angst was just bringing him down.

"Or you could write them first."

There was that. Was it bad that it was a sort of test to see how long it would take for them to finally write to him? He felt like a woman scorned, or a jealous lover or something. One thing that made him reconsider this plan was the mark that had showed up on his arm. It was still there, and he still had no clue what it meant. He could write Hermione and ask her. If anything, she might be able to tell him a) if sudden marks were common, b) what it meant and c) why it showed up. But then each time he was about to write to ask her, he stopped. The mark just seemed so intensely personal that he couldn't bring himself to share it with another person. Speaking of the mark…

"Lazarus, do you know what this mark means?" Harry bent down and showed the lizard his arm.

"We do not know. Marks have no meaning. They just are."

"This one does, I think."

"Then we do not know."

Harry had to finish the rest of his chores inside. He knew that he could probably convince the lizard to come with him inside, but it didn't feel right asking him to be a pet just yet. Lizards were outdoor creatures, and as long as he had someone— ahem, something— to talk to and confide in, he was happy, and he knew that Lazarus would be happier outside.

But for the rest of summer, whenever he was outside, Lazarus would come to him. He would tell him of his life, and ask about Lazarus's (though his version was much shorter and simpler). He taught him more and more words and terms, and even began to teach him to understand words in human language. Mostly simple words that would be used with any pet, like 'stop,' 'Lazarus,' 'hungry,' etc. Harry hoped that when he left for the summer, Lazarus might accompany him. He knew he couldn't speak Parseltongue or Lizardtongue or whatever to the lizard all the time, as it would make people uncomfortable, so he decided on a compromise. A mix. Mostly English in front of his friends, and mostly Lizardtongue when they were alone.

Now all he had to do was convince Lazarus to come with him.

ooooooooooooooooo

Harry walked into the kitchen on Friday to find his aunt standing there with a banana in one hand, and a slice of bread in the other. She didn't even bother with a plate. She just walked up to Harry, slapped the bread, then the banana into his hand and said, "This is your lunch. I'm going grocery shopping." And she left.

As soon as she had shut the door, he raced up to his room. He hadn't had a free moment to write to Erastes yet, and it had already been four days. The letter was sitting where he had left it on his desk. He, like always, already had formulated a reply mentally. He wrote:

Dear Erastes,

Please don't worry about my relatives. I'm fine. I'd rather not talk about it, really.

I did gather that you are older than me, so I'm not surprised. I have to admit, though, I don't really like the fact that you're married. Frigid wife or not. Something doesn't seem right about that to me. I'd feel like 'the other woman,' or man, or something.

I completely understand your loneliness. Before I went to Hogwarts, and every summer that I have to come back here, I am shunned. Everyone around here thinks that I am some sort of hoodlum, and I go to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, so everyone pretty much stays away from me. I, too, was a quiet child, and that added to my bad reputation and made sure that no one stayed my friend for too long. In fact, I've quite gotten used to quiet times, and find myself missing them when I am with the boisterous company of my house mates. It's so different for me, to go from the silence of my summers to the loudness of Hogwarts. They are all pretty much nice people, though, so it's not too bad. Hogwarts is more of a home to me than here, after all.

But as much as things are rowdy at Hogwarts, sometimes I feel so alone. It really gives meaning to the whole 'It's lonely at the top,' thing. Not that I'm implying I think I'm better than anyone else. I just feel so different. Everyone expects me to be their hero, all charismatic and everything, but I can't really do that. And I think my fame pushes some people away, while it draws others in. It's the people that don't care about my fame that I really want to get to know, and the ones that are attracted to it that I want to push away. I hate not knowing whether anybody's trying to get close to the 'Boy Who Lived,' and not me, Harry. Plus nobody really knows that I come home to summers like this. I think they'd be disappointed if they knew the truth.

It makes me sad that you are so lonely. You seem fine in your letters, though. I wish there was something I could do.

I feel that you have me at a disadvantage. You know about me, but I hardly know anything about you. I only really know that you are an older male, who is married, besides the other things I might have gleaned from your hints. So I ask you to tell me about yourself. You don't have to give away your identity yet, but I'd like to know more about you.

As for my OWL results, I think I did fine. I got seven OWLs. History of Magic and Divination were a loss, anyway. Both of those classes are a joke. I'm sure one of my friends, Hermione, got better than me, but I don't really care. The only thing is that I didn't get a good enough grade to get into Professor Snape's NEWT level Potions class, so I can't be an Auror. I don't really know anymore if that's what I wanted to do. I just said it. I don't know what types of jobs there are out there for wizards.

As for that closing fact, here it is: I just befriended a lizard. I named him Lazarus. It turns out that I can understand lizards. I guess it is a byproduct of understanding Parseltongue. It just sounded garbled at first, but now it's fine. Lazarus is pretty funny. He only speaks about himself in the plural. I go outside and talk to him as much as possible now. It's funny to hear the advice he gives because it's so lizard-like. The other day, he told me to bite my uncle because he was yelling at me. He's also told me my friends should give me crickets. It's quite funny. But it is nice to have someone to talk to.

I hope to hear from you soon,

Eromenos

With that done, he folded the letter, sealed it, and whistled and called for Hedwig. After a few minutes, she still hadn't shown up, but just as he was about to call again when he saw her white form flapping towards his window.

"Here, girl. I want you to send this to my secret admirer, alright?"

Hedwig bobbed her head. He gave her a couple own treats, and then she dropped from his window, furiously flap-flapping up, up and away.

ooooooooooooooooo

Harry had read every word of the three books he had rented from the library on Basque mythology and medieval beliefs and practices. He still didn't know how it all related to him. He still felt excited when he thought of the god Sugaar, also known as Sugoi or Maju, as they were interchangeable. The words felt oddly familiar to him. But he still didn't feel ready. Prophyta had said he would know. He was so frustrated. He needed more answers! He couldn't just read books and be ready. He wished he had a way to contact her. He flopped on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

He didn't know if he had fallen asleep, or how long for, but when he opened his eyes something felt different. A prickling feeling made him turn to look at his desk.

"Finally up?"

It was Prophyta.

"OH, my God!" He jumped and fell out of bed.

She chuckled.

"You have questions," she stated, as he got up and sat on his bed.

"Yes."

"I understand."

"What—" he began to ask his first question, but was cut off.

"No, just let me explain. You know of Sugaar, the god. He was the consort to Mari, who was in turn, his consort. Sugaar mated with a Scottish princess in Mundaka. She had his child, and he became the Lord of Biscay. She, against his wishes, returned to Scotland, though she knew that she would be disowned for having a child out of wedlock. But she never knew that by touching her, he had marked her."

"Was she a witch?"

"No. She was a muggle. But it was foreseen that one of her ancestors would commune with Sugaar again, and help him."

Harry was beginning to get a niggling feeling in the back of his mind.

"It was you, Harry. That Scottish princess was one of your ancestors, from hundreds of years ago. You are his avatar. You will help him. It has been put down by the fates. It has been spoken by our Aztiak, our soothsayers, that you must reestablish the balance in the Wizarding world by defeating an evil. "

Oh, he knew it! Nothing ever went right for him, did it? Why couldn't he have a normal life? He just wanted to be a normal teen, whose only problem was finding out if a boy liked him or not. There was always something freakish or huge that happened to him, and this was no exception. This seemed bigger than Voldemort (assuming that the evil he had to defeat wasn't, in fact, Voldemort). He had to save the fucking world? What the hell? How did the worst stuff always happen to him? He had thought facing the Dark Lord at eleven, or a huge ass basilisk at twelve was bad. That was nothing compared to this. How the hell was he supposed to even start? What was he to do? It was so hugely overwhelming and impossible to even wrap his mind around. He was beginning to feel faint, but Prophyta continued as if nothing was wrong.

"When you are ready, you must come. This," she gently touched his lightening bolt scar, "marked you as one with potential. When you became an adult, you received this," she pointed at the odd mark on his arm, "you will be coming in to your powers. I suspect you already have begun. We will help you on your quest. When you come, we must perform a ritual, to help you."

"A… a ritual?" he asked faintly, still feeling dizzy.

"It will help you control your powers, to ground you. And we will teach you to use them."

"A-alright." He was too confused to fight. And he could hear the truth and conviction in her voice. If he didn't go, something bad would happen. He needed to learn control. He could be angry at fate, for blowing up his entire life and making him some sort of freak, later. By now he should be used to odd, freaky, amazing things that happened only to him, right?

"Am I ready? Are we going?"

"If you have to ask, you are not. But soon." And then she was gone again.


So, can you tell me what you think about the letters? I mean, if you like reading what the actually say, or id you'd prefer them to be just summarized? I do have them all written out, but I can change that if people are bored reading letters.

Also, Lazarus does say real stuff before Harry can understand him, but it's not important to the story. It's just him talking to himself. If you want, I can put the 'translation' at the end here, but just know it's not necessary.


Review, please!

-Boom.