Sorry for the long wait. this chapter is my longest, and I hope it satisfy you.
On another note, this story is officially my longest (not only it is more than 20 chapters, each chapter also have at least 5000 words) and so, I am thankful for people who stayed and read this. This is a huge effort (as some of you may know, I am super lazy ass and have the tendency to give up before finishing something till the end).
Unbeta-ed.
Reason why Harry suddenly change: It will be explained below in the story, but also, HORMONE. Hormonal imbalance in teenagers, especially with background such as Harry's, may be very explosive. Oh, also, I made a one shot (for Krysania) epilogue of pure smut between Marvolo and Harry. It is titled the Difference in Preference. If you want to taste my smut, that is my style. Hope you like this.
Enjoy!
Marvolo pushed aside his chair and walked towards the child. Previously, he had not been pinning too much hope on Lucius successfully delivering Harry to him, and so he truthfully hadn't been all that prepared to receive Harry. He had given Malfoy the special Portkey some time ago, before even Harry's birthday, and had honestly forgotten about it. And apparently Lucius had used his own son as the means to bring Harry to him. Quite a smart move. Marvolo had been wrong to place such low expectations in the skills of the heir apparent of the Malfoy family. Yet, the small brat had showed some degree of competency today by successfully transferring Harry into his Manor.
His manor was the aptly named Riddle Manor. Ironic as it may seem, it had always served as his primary base. Of course he had another official address, but this manor was his base for his most important operations, and his life's work. He had used a powerful Fidelius charm to protect it, and only those bearing his specialized Portkeys, or the Dark Mark, were able to bypass this ward. And ever since the Riddle family name had been tarnished, the family had virtually fallen off the face of the earth, away from all aspects of society; Tom had taken full advantage of this discretion. By now, nobody would ever remember that there was once a wealthy blue-blooded family living in that area of the country, let alone their actual Manor. It was a very useful place to recuperate from the travails of his ongoing campaign, especially after that last duel with Dumbledore.
Marvolo had been in the middle of torturing his lovely, lovely (traitorous) Potions Master when suddenly Snape had hit him full-force with that bludgeoning hex. Taken off guard, Marvolo had been hit right on his chest; a critical blow that would normally have killed other wizards, but not him. And he proved to have the worst timing, as the nosy Headmaster had then burst into the room and attacked him in his blind spot. The silent Reducto charm had gashed him horrifically on his back. The serious wounds prevented him from fighting Dumbledore at his optimal level. Thus, he'd retreated before he could kill Snape. He'd managed to get into the Chamber of Secrets, and had Disapparated from there.
His spies in Hogwarts eventually relayed him their reports. Apparently Snape was being kept in the infirmary, in a special room that was being protected by tight security wards similar to those surrounding the Headmaster's office. Marvolo was forced to reconsider moving Snape's ultimate extermination to another time. And it seemed that the Potions Master hadn't even woken up as yet, so nothing in this case was exactly urgent. He had other, more pressing matters to attend to.
With the help of Lucius, he had succeeded in exerting nearly complete control over the Ministry. Most of the Winzengamot (in fact, approximately 66% of the members) had already become his devoted followers, or at least under his payroll. Ever since the runaway success of his effective, potent, Slytherin-targeted fertility elixir, more and more pureblood families had come begging him for it.
Furthermore, the research he had designated for his followers to conduct, which explored the combination of working Muggle knowledge and magic-based principles, had proven quite promising, particularly when one of his more intelligent followers came up with the first prototype of a magical gun (he'd created it using some sort of magic propeller combined with a Muggle's pistol). It worked via supplying one's magical power into the barrel of the gun; instead of bullets, pure increments of energy would be shot from the muzzle at much higher force, intensity, and velocity. However, there was one limitation. Every time the gun was fired, only one spell could be utilized. Marvolo was quite satisfied with the development, however. At least now he was one technological step ahead, compared to the Ministry's Aurors as well as Dumbledore. Heh. Dumbledore.
Thinking about Dumbledore always made Marvolo annoyed.
The main obstacle in his way of total dictatorship was those faithful followers of Dumbledore's, and some politically neutral parties. Marvolo knew the politically 'neutral' were truthfully made up of true opportunists who simply waited around for the best options to materialize, so he wasn't overly concerned about them. But the increasing strength and numbers of Dumbledore's party was becoming a thorn in his side; although they were not currently great in number, they were very famous as being symbolic of the 'Light' side of magic, which of course would gather more support from the Wizarding World (although Marvolo doubted the strength of most of the population's collective intellect). Compared to his followers, his party had garnered the label as those who served the 'Dark' side of magic. So far though, he had the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, eating from the palm of his hand, via Lucius's doing. But that might very well change very soon, especially with next year's oncoming election.
At first Marvolo had been thinking of running for the position of Minister, but that meant too many public exposures, too much open invitation for critics to come attack him, and no allowance for political mistakes. So instead, he planned to have Lucius run for Minister—he knew he could control that man. However, at some point, he started to realize that he had overlooked the ambition of one previously useless Cornelius Fudge.
The man was a weak wizard, but he made up for this by being a greedy and ambitious politician. He had already been showing signs of trying to regain the authority of his position as the Minister. He refused, over and over, to surrender it to Lucius, even though he knew that most of the money in his back pocket was being 'donated' by Lucius. It seemed that the puppet was getting a bit of backbone and was rebelling. Marvolo suspected that Cornelius would create a distraction, great enough to postpone the election, so that he could gather more public support.
Marvolo did not have the time to think about the upcoming election at the moment. He was neck-deep in dealing with the affairs of the current (incompetent) Department of Magical Reinforcement. When he had initially become the Head, he figured that by allowing the Aurors to become disorganized and weak, the easier it would be for him to take over the Ministry. Within mere weeks, an absurd amount of incompetency, tardiness, and lack of discipline was evident within the Department.
However, now, upon having realized the importance of making sure Lucius would be elected Minister in the following year, he decided that a better, more competent Auror department was required in order to back the Ministry up (although, it would still have to be less powerful than his own Death Eater army). So it seemed as though his plans had now backfired onto his own arse, and Marvolo now needed to make over and improve the Department. However, at the same time, he needed to refrain from handing over too much power to the Aurors. It was a delicate, stressful, and complicated job. Most of the current Aurors were incompetent wizards and witches who were severely lacking in either skills or courage, or both. It embarrassed him to see how poorly they trained and fared with each other. There were some exceptions of course, like Mad-Eye Moody, and his group's subordinates, but they were at Dumbledore's beck and call.
Furthermore, there was another advantage in store for Marvolo, if he managed to successfully take control of the Ministry. The research being conducted by his followers on Muggle weaponry and magic was so far promising, but the developments weren't coming fast enough. If Marvolo could implement his particular brand of research into the workings of the Ministry's Unspeakable Department and the Department of Magical Research, the added people and resources would surely greatly improve the progress of his inventions. And so, conquering the Ministry seemed to be a good idea, but also, at the same time, a lot of hard work.
Thanks to his overwhelming workload, Marvolo hadn't been able to loosen up at all in the last month. So, Marvolo was currently incredibly happy. Harry had come out in front of his fireplace, like some early Yuletide offering. Something about Harry's presence always relaxed him. All the hassles and problems coming from his stupid Death Eaters, Dumbledore, the idiot politicians and incompetent subordinates, were gone; Disapparated in a flash. All that mattered now was that he had Harry with him, away from Hogwarts, away from Dumbledore.
He was the Dark Lord, after all. Whenever he found he disliked something, the emotion eventually turned into pure hatred. Contra wise, whenever he took a fancy to something, the mild interest quickly evolved into obsession. And Harry had been his main obsession ever since he'd first heard the infamous prophecy. The obsession had only grown worse and more out-of-control after he'd met the Boy-Who-Wished-to-Die during Harry's first year.
Yet Marvolo hadn't realized that he was, in truth, glorifying the memory of his submissive, innocent Harry. In Marvolo's mind, Harry was still the powerful yet sweet boy he needed to protect. He'd failed to recognize that Harry was developing into a teenager, and with so much childhood abuse, developmental hormones and mental issues in his wake, Harry was bound to develop into an angry, raging, and awful tempered teenager. Marvolo had failed to take into account any changes in Harry's personality after he (and Tom) had stopped being the support for Harry's weak mentality.
So, when he saw Harry's facial expression, any positive feelings he'd had for Harry's existence were suspended momentarily, poised to shatter. It was displaced by a certain amount of disbelief and—doubt.
The boy in front of him wasn't the Harry from his memories. He couldn't be!
The boy was looking at him with the eyes of a small, cornered animal. His big green eyes were darting from Marvolo's face, towards his surroundings, and back again, clearly looking for a way out. And the boy was pale, limbs shaking; but poised and ready to run. It seemed that the boy was too used to being cornered. And that reminded Marvolo of what he'd once seen in Harry's relatives' minds; they were filthy and horrible memories.
So Marvolo took a step back.
"Harry… Calm down. I won't hurt you."
The boy swallowed and stared back into Marvolo's eyes. "Why… Why am I here?"
"You are here because I want you to be here. Don't you want to be with me?"
The boy looked away and suddenly his body dropped and bent, so that he was kneeling on the floor. Marvolo's jaw dropped in surprise, before he paled. The child started to vomit, mostly water and foul liquids; but also some amount of blood.
"Harry!" The Dark Lord quickly gathered the child into his arms, but Harry smacked him away, leaving Marvolo frozen.
"Why did you kiss me?" the boy whispered. "What do you want from me?"
What sort of answer could one rightfully give, when one was being interrogated with this kind of question?
"Why am I here? What… do you want?" Harry asked again, looking up and this time, he sounded so cold. Marvolo didn't even want to believe the child could say something in such an icy tone. "Do you want me to suck you as well?"
And then the memory he'd once seen inside the pig-Muggle's head, came into his mind. Yes, that bastard had forced his Harry to submit to his perverted inclinations. He growled.
"No. That couldn't be further away from my intentions when I… I did that. Have I ever lied to you?"
Harry clutched his knees tighter towards his body, and he didn't reply. Instead, he stared distrustfully at Marvolo, and the intensity of his stare spoke volumes of distrust towards the older man. "... Then what do you want from me? Tell me now. I don't want to play your games anymore."
"What 'games?'" Marvolo was at a loss. He remembered when they had previously met in the Room of Requirement, Harry had mentioned something about 'playing games,' about how he had toyed with the boy's emotions. He wasn't sure what Harry had been getting at, and Marvolo hated to be unsure about anything. He walked over to the boy and grabbed his arm, pulling upwards, forcing Harry to stand up. The boy looked away from him, and it annoyed Marvolo. He hissed in Parseltongue.
"Look at me."
But Harry didn't obey. Instead he whispered back, "I am not a Parseltongue anymore. Didn't you know that? Isn't that why you left me?"
He had forgotten. Marvolo swallowed hard and reached out, seizing Harry's chin. He tilted the boy's face. Those green eyes had nothing in them but cold anger and fear. It was such a shock, coming from the usually innocent and lovely boy. He pulled the boy close.
"What changed you?" Marvolo whispered, burying his face into Harry's hair. The scent he'd missed so. "Why are you so angry?"
Harry's answer was so soft that Marvolo almost missed it. "You. You and your games made me realize how foolish I was being. How desperate I have been. To ever trust you. To ever depend on you."
Marvolo shook his head and moved his head away, so he could face Harry closely. "Look at me, Child. I don't understand what you mean. I don't play games. I won't hurt you. You are mine."
Harry jerked at the sentence. Every inch of his body was screaming in anger and rage. And the boy started shouting. "Liar! I know you think I am just a source of amusement. But I don't need you, if all you'll ever do is leave me again and again. You lied about everything. You promised me death, but you left after you had the Stone. I know you were really Tom, and you left afterwards without even saying what I did to deserve it. Now, you expect me to forget about all this and suck you. You hurt me. You are a liar, just like all those other adults!"
As much as he loved the boy, the lack of respect insulted the Dark Lord down to the core. Yet Marvolo tried to keep his temper at bay. "… Do not think that you know everything, boy. If this were all a game to me, then what would you possibly consider as my end goal?... I did what I did for reasons that you don't understand. Stop this insolent behaviour. I may favour you, but you are trying my patience."
Harry laughed. "What? You want to kill me? Then good! Finally you can accomplish what you promised me in the first place! I won't trust your lying mouth anymore! Or you can tell me what you want me to do now, and I'll suck you, or fuck you— I'll do it. You don't need to promise anything to me anymore. I have other things to worry about without you trying to mess me up again and again. I am not, will never be yours."
Marvolo was stunned. The boy had just yelled in his face. He was the Dark Lord, and it had been eons since anyone had talked to him like that and had lived to see the next day. In his annoyance, he unconsciously conjured up his magic.
"Crucio."
The sudden burst of sensation from every single nerve of his body shocked Harry. It felt like being kicked, whipped, punched and tortured by Dudley and his uncle and aunt all at the same time. Harry was no stranger to pain, but now all he could think of was how to stop the pain. Unfortunately, his magical core reacted with the pain. Instead of lessening the agony, Harry's magic actually enhanced the effect.
He begged for the pain to stop. Usually he endured everything in silence, but this time he couldn't. Conversely, he wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He experienced a bout of déjà-vu; several years ago, his uncle, enraged with his nephew's perceived freakishness, had kept beating Harry over and over before finally deeming that Harry had learned 'enough'. And during that episode, although Harry had wanted to scream for mercy, he had known better than to voice it out because whenever he screamed, the pain came even harder and faster.
Stop thinking. Stop. If you retain consciousness, you'll feel pain. Uncle Vernon wouldn't stop hitting you either. Just stop thinking and the pain will cease. Stop thinking. Just let yourself be.
He would die. If this continued, he would surely die.
And although dying so sounded so good, the images of Professor Snape, Blaise, Professor Lupin and the house elves suddenly passed through his mind. If he died, he couldn't meet them anymore. He didn't want that. He still hadn't thanked Professor Snape for throwing him a birthday party, he hadn't finished his Animagus lesson with Professor Lupin, and he had promised Blaise that he would meet him inside the castle, waiting until his best friend was back from Hogsmeade. He wanted to be inside the Hogwarts kitchen again, to help the house elves cook.
Before, he had wanted to die, for he'd had nothing to look forward to in his young life—the future was bleak and meaningless to him. And he was the 'bad guy' all the time, anyway—he had felt he deserved to die. But recently, he had come to a new resolution—that he didn't want to run away from reality anymore. He needed to fight back.
And in that moment of desperation, Harry wandlessly cast one of the spells he'd learned from studying Necromancy.
He wasn't sure what happened next, but the pain did stop, and Marvolo was blasted all the way to the other corner of the room. Harry fell onto the floor, his small body shaking and his mouth wide open, unable to regain control over anything in his body. He couldn't even breathe properly.
"…You…You dare?"
Harry heard an enraged voice calling from the other corner of the room.
He knew he was in trouble.
The desperation he felt warped his mind. All his newly found courage and anger were gone in a snap. He regressed back to being the mere 'Boy' who was aware that he was in trouble. More trouble. He was being punished for being a freak—that was where all that pain had come from—for letting his freakishness cause harm to his uncle. He'd blasted his uncle. Oh, his uncle would be so mad. His uncle was coming towards him and promising more pain than before. Harry knew he could stand it but he didn't want more pain. He didn't want to be touched anymore. His uncle was scary. The scariest sight in the universe.
He was going to die.
And so, despite his shaky limbs and unstable gait, Harry got up and ran.
Ran away from his uncle. From the anger. From the madness. He didn't want to be hit anymore. He wanted to go to a safe place.
He didn't want to die.
…Or did he?
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry remembered that he used to be angry. He was mad at something. He had been changing recently. He had been thinking of getting revenge. He had even wanted to change something about his life. He wanted to be better. He was so angry. But his current state of mind was blocking those feelings, as though they'd never existed. He'd returned to his past, primal way of thinking, which was coming more naturally to him compared to the newly built rage.
Currently it suddenly sounded so funny that he'd felt anger earlier. It was so unbelievable that he had been thinking of getting revenge. It was weird for him to think that he deserved something better out of his life; that he deserved anything at all, for that matter. What was he but a 'Boy'? Not even human; he was a slave. He deserved pain. He wanted to die. Hadn't he always wanted death?
So he stopped running. And he stood there, in the middle of this strange environment. Slowly, his mind started to more clearly register his surroundings. He was still inside a house, in the middle of the intersection of two large corridors. A big house. An old house. With nice, plush carpeting, and fancy ceilings.
Where was he? Where should he go?
Suddenly he detected some movement coming from his left. Harry quickly turned, but his eyes were suddenly covered by a pair of big hands. His body was engulfed into a hug from behind. Tight. Warm. Familiar.
Safe.
"Don't look. Close your eyes."
The voice was familiar. Harry followed the voice's instructions obediently. And he heard something moving from around him; a huge, long, body with a great mass, sliding quietly beside him. Then he felt a something flickering in his hair. It felt… familiar. Harry knew that he'd missed that flickering sensation. The sense of magic around him was very familiar.
The man behind him hissed something inaudible, and the flickering stopped. Harry knew both of them. He knew the scents and that warm feeling…
"Annana?" Harry called weakly. "Is that you?"
At day's end, when everybody else had returned to the castle, Blaise became more worried than ever.
He had bought some chocolate bars and some toys from Zonko for Harry, thinking that it might cheer Harry up. Blaise had been expecting Harry to be waiting inside the Slytherin dorm, but after double checking the common room and the dorms, Harry was still nowhere to be found.
Of course, the library was his next bid. He passed row after row of book shelves and still, no Harry turned up. He grew even more worried and when he finally reached the Restricted Section and still turned up empty-handed, Blaise knew something must be terribly wrong. The boy was a problem magnet, after all!
He ran to the Great Hall, but there were not many students inside. In fact the Slytherin table was almost empty, and Harry wasn't one of the few Slytherin students still sitting on the bench. Blaise hurried out again, this time checking the hospital wing. He still couldn't find Harry anywhere.
When it was time to have dinner, Blaise returned to the Great Hall with his fingers crossed, hoping that Harry would suddenly appear at the Slytherin table. Yet he didn't. Harry was still missing even after the meal started. Blaise looked around, almost in a panic, when suddenly a hand was put on his shoulder.
"Relax." It was Malfoy. "Harry is safe."
"How do you know?"
Draco snorted, as though saying, what else would make you look that worried, if not Potter's condition? "It's not your concern, really. I just wanted to warn you—don't let the teachers know. They don't need to know."
"Harry is missing, and you are saying that I shouldn't inform any teachers?"
Draco smirked. "I thought you were smart. Smart enough, anyway. Oh, and a personal warning to you: I know what you feel for him, but it will be futile to keep chasing him. Your rival is just too dangerous."
"What do you mean?" Blaise raised his eyebrows in scepticism. "What do you know?" he added more dangerously, after regaining his steely Slytherin composure.
"I am just trying to help." Draco shrugged and dug a spoon into his pudding. "I know that I once said I'd help you, because it was amusing to me at the time, but things are different now. We are now treading in very dangerous waters here, my friend."
After that, no matter how much Blaise coaxed the young Malfoy to speak, Draco wouldn't open his mouth at all. Instead he ignored Blaise, for the sake of his pudding. His attitude was copied by all the Slytherin third years, indirectly informing Blaise that all of them were in on this together. Or at least, Goyle, Crabbe and Pansy were.
So Blaise eventually gave up, keeping to himself and wondering what to do next.
But he didn't need to. After dinner ended, Professor Lupin came to him.
"Mr. Zabini, I noticed that Harry wasn't at dinner tonight. Is he sick or something? Do you know where he is? He would surely have returned by now from Hogsmeade, wouldn't he?"
Blaise bit his lip. Should he tell the professor? This professor clearly cared about Harry's well-being. Blaise had seen the Professor act like a substitute guardian for Harry, now that Professor Snape was currently comatose.
But Draco's warning had been quite straightforward—he shouldn't tell the teachers anything, or else. And apparently the professor wasn't aware that Harry hadn't been able to pass through the Hogsmeade gate earlier that day.
"I… I am not sure, sir. But maybe Harry overslept tonight in the dorms."
Professor Lupin chuckled. "Maybe he was tired. Thank you, Mr. Zabini. Have a good evening."
Blaise felt a foul taste curdle inside his mouth—the taste of lies, and the feeling of uncertainty about whether he had done the right thing after all.
"Where were you all day?" Blaise's voice seemingly came from nowhere, startling Harry.
"You scared me! Don't come in, will you? I am naked!" Harry nearly screamed from his place in the bathtub. He hastily covered himself with enough bubbles to hide his body. Or, nearly enough.
Harry turned back to see his best friend, Blaise, folding his arms across his chest and looking disapprovingly at Harry. The green eyed boy swallowed hard and slid to the back of the tub, as far away from Blaise as possible. They were the only two boys inside the bathroom, and it was past midnight. Snores could be heard coming from the third years' dorm and Harry had previously been sure he'd been the only one awake.
"Why are you taking a bath now? Where were you?"
"I…. I was out."
It was the truth. He had been sort of kidnapped by Draco, sent to Marvolo's Manor, and had unexpectedly gotten to meet Annana. Upon realizing it had truly been Annana who'd flickered her tongue in his face, Harry subsequently lost consciousness. He'd slipped into a forgiving, blissfully unconscious state, momentarily free from the continuous tension and anger that'd rushed through his body and mind when he realized Marvolo had forced him to come into that Manor or wherever he was. Sadly, in the back of his mind, Harry knew he needed to face whatever fate threw at him next, so he eventually woke up. He found Marvolo sitting beside his bedside and a magically blindfolded basilisk curled around them.
While his mind was still fuzzy from remnants of fear and anger, Harry also felt really nostalgic. He had finally gotten to see Annana again. It was funny that Harry always felt animals were better companions than humans. Up until this point of his life, animals had never hurt him; even the goodbyes he'd exchanged with the unicorns were more bittersweet than hurtful. The huge serpent was still as huge as ever, and maybe even bigger than the last time he had seen her in the Chamber of Secrets.
Last time, it had only been Harry and Annana in the room, because Marvolo was stuck inside Harry's head. Now that Marvolo had regained his body, there were now three bodies in the room. Strangely, however, Harry felt content, not out of place at all. Annana hissed and flickered her tongue again and again onto Harry's face, earning a hissing scolding from Marvolo, but Harry was too happy to care. He hugged the huge serpent while carefully rubbing the cold scales. He'd missed her so much.
"Harry… I want to apologize. I lost my temper and I hurt you."
The words made the boy freeze in his movements. With a start, Harry realized that Marvolo was there, standing beside him and Annana. Suddenly he felt a rush of fear. Why? The answer raced through his mind: the man had just Crucio'ed him. At that moment, the dam of memories broke inside his mind. All at once he was hit with a series of mental flashbacks, seemingly juxtaposed randomly and out of order— the large hands that had covered his eyes; his running away from Marvolo; the sudden feeling of absolutely crippling fear; his accidental casting of forbidden Necromancy magic; his outburst of pure rage; and lastly, the source of all his rage and disasters from that day.
The kiss Marvolo had given him at his first birthday party.
Harry blushed. He refused to look the man in the eye. He truly didn't understand all the uncomfortable feelings he was now experiencing. His emotions were fluctuating and changing every single second, and Harry couldn't decide which emotion he should hold onto at the moment. He had never been good at sorting out his feelings, after all.
"I was glad you came into my Manor. It was a very pleasant surprise and I hadn't been expecting your visit. It would have been the very first time we'd have been able to talk to each other, without being restrained by the wards and walls of Hogwarts.
"About that time…" Here Marvolo paused. "I did leave you very suddenly, and I had not been planning on it," Marvolo continued, explaining at a slow, gentle pace. "When you exchanged your source of magick for the Stone, the mirror of Erised took away all your power. At the time, I was still depending on your magical core for survival. If I hadn't left when I did, you would have ended up a Squib; your magical core would have been destroyed. I wouldn't have been able to help you, because I had yet to gain a physical body. So I left you. I don't want to leave you to die. You have great potential, Child, just like what I told you before. Instead of pursuing death, why won't you let me help you mould a better life for yourself?"
Harry grabbed Annana's body tighter. Even with his two outstretched arms, he couldn't span the full circumference of Annana's thick body. He didn't want to listen to excuses. He didn't want to… but, obediently, he listened anyway. Harry closed his eyes, trying to ignore the voice, but he couldn't.
"...About the Tom in the diary… yes, he was me. I am him. You are looking at us now. But you must believe me when I say I hadn't planned on having you meet him in the first place. He was slipped into your shopping bag by someone other than me. And when I found him at last, we merged our souls and became one. And that's how I finally regained the full body you are looking at now."
The boy, as if on cue, slowly looked up to glance at the man in front of him. Marvolo had indeed turned into a handsome man, an older-looking, more matured version of Tom. Just like what had happened that day in the Room of Requirement, Harry felt suffocated with the waves of magical charisma the man was radiating. He was powerful, he was attractive and he was wise. Marvolo was a Lord, and he was the owner of the large Manor they were currently in. Harry should have been nothing but glad that Marvolo was offering him his help in gaining him a better life.
"Why did you kiss me, then?" Harry couldn't help but ask. Courage and rage were returning slowly to his senses, fuelling his determination to have his questions from that day all answered. "What is it that you want from me?"
Marvolo looked pensive for a moment, but his brown eyes suddenly shone bright red, filled with possessiveness. "I want your complete devotion to me, in exchange for my protection and guidance. And today's meeting was unplanned as well. This is my mansion, and I hope you can stay here longer. Annana misses you, and so do I."
Harry's heart rate spiked. Really? Marvolo missed him?
Stupid, he berated himself almost immediately. He should not ever, ever blindly believe whatever Marvolo said. Marvolo was just saying what he was saying in the context of goodwill and politeness, and out of courtesy. He was a deft politician and manipulator. Marvolo had actually admitted that he wanted Harry's complete devotion, and Harry knew, better than anyone, that Marvolo was the ultimate master of manipulation. Harry guessed that Marvolo was trying to coax Harry with false, lovely-sounding sentiments like he used to do, especially during the last two times they were very close.
"Why should I trust you?" Harry couldn't help but whisper his challenge. "I trusted you and you left. I am no longer a weak and stupid child that you can just lie to; I want proof that this is real."
"I will do my best never to lie to you, Harry. And I offer you this. I promise you that this place will serve as a sanctuary for you. Nobody will ever bully you here, and in here it will be just you, me, Annana and three house elves that I am sure you would be delighted to get to know better. I have warded my mansion so that it has complete privacy, and no one can enter here without my direct permission. Thus I offer you a place of privacy; a room in this mansion, any room you would like, for the price of you coming to meet me here every Sunday. I have a lot of plans for you and I think you need to catch up with your suspended Necromancy studies. I prefer to have you here every day, but it is vital that you stay at Hogwarts for your normal education, so Sundays would work best for us. What do you think?"
Marvolo had contained him inside his manor for the entire remainder of the afternoon. Harry wasn't allowed outside at all, but Marvolo did not touch him either. That night, he let Harry pet a blindfolded Annana, while Harry finally told him his decision. Harry, seeing that he had no way out, and as the deal didn't sound half-bad (and he did miss both Marvolo and Tom. Not that he would ever tell the other man, though), ended up accepting the offer.
And when Marvolo had beamed a smile at him, Harry felt himself blushing to the tips of his ears. His chest was filled with pain. Why was it that every time he resigned to succumb to the worst possible fate, this man came and turned everything upside down? This wizard kept making Harry feel something that Harry knew would surely bite him back one day.
Marvolo slowly walked towards the frozen yet blushing boy, and hugged him.
"I owe you a hug, Child."
Harry let himself melt inside the hug; and the somewhat familiar feeling of magic enveloped him. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world and Harry desperately clung onto it. He remembered when he'd asked Marvolo for a hug last time. Percy was the one who'd actually ended up hugging him. But hugging Percy was nothing compared to being enveloped in Marvolo's arms. So Harry basked in the wonderful feeling and the familiar sensation. It was just what he wanted. He knew he was too easy—Marvolo had managed to reduce him into a puddle of goo just by hugging him; but then, again, he wanted to be safely inside Marvolo's arms for once.
Honestly, if Harry must die, then Marvolo would be the only one Harry ever wanted to be killed by.
Meanwhile, Annana coiled herself around them, until Harry heard Marvolo hissing in irritation and Annana reluctantly uncoiled her body from them. Marvolo let Harry go as well, and Harry missed the contact as soon as their bodies weren't touching anymore.
"Can you teach me Parseltongue again? I want to be able to speak to Annana," Harry asked, when he heard the serpent hissing. It felt weird to not be able to understand Annana after all this time. He wanted to converse with the playful serpent again.
"That can be arranged." Marvolo showed a small smile and let Harry go. "However the night is late and you need to return to Hogwarts; otherwise, you will be missed. Wait here."
Marvolo went out from the room and came back with a pouch in his hand. Harry watched as the man opened the pouch and produced a small ring; it was set with a prism-shaped, green coloured gemstone in the middle of a sparkling golden band.
Marvolo gently took Harry's hand and slipped the ring onto his wedding finger.
"This is a Portkey that I constructed from a family heirloom; a drop of your blood will activate it. You may only activate it outside of the wards of Hogwarts, in places such as Hogsmeade and in the Chamber. I am sorry but you need to use your own blood for identification purposes, because I want you to be surrounded with the utmost security."
Harry nodded his head. He somehow knew better than to say anything. That moment felt sacred, and he could feel the magic heavily binding the both of them with the ring.
"Be safe. See you next Sunday, Child."
It was the last thing Harry heard before he was pulled back again into oblivion, assaulted with the familiar sensation of being magically transported. Harry could rightfully say he disliked such a method of transport, but when he opened his eyes, he was back inside the Chamber of Secrets.
The room itself hadn't changed much, save for traces of old potions and some smears of blood; however, when Harry walked to the end of the corridor; he saw the deceased body of his aunt. She looked horribly thin and her body had shrunk, as though she had starved to death. The body had started to decay some time ago, and Harry tried hard to hold in his vomit.
He quickly went to the usual exit, but then he realized that he'd forgotten (and he was sure Marvolo had forgotten as well) that Harry couldn't speak Parseltongue anymore. He couldn't call for the stairs. Harry started to get desperate, and began to devise a plan to Portkey back to Marvolo's Manor in order to borrow a broom or something. But, a large part of him didn't want to go back so soon, mere moments after being Portkey'ed to the Chamber. It would show Marvolo that Harry was weak and fully dependent on the man. And the new Harry was still quite angry at the man, angry enough to refuse to ask for help from him.
So he looked around, only to find there were bones and stones around him. Harry took a bone and he utilized his magic, concentrating very hard, imagining the bone Transfiguring into a broom.
After fifteen minutes, he managed to Transfigure and combine five bones into one fairly strong broom that would allow him to carry himself out from the hollow well. As he flew up, the toilet entrance opened itself up and allowed Harry to pass through. The moment he reached the second level toilet floor, the broom collapsed back into a pile of bones. Harry grimaced and threw the bones, one by one, back down into the entrance. The entrance slowly closed up and Harry fled from the bathroom before he could run into the resident female ghost.
It was already midnight, and Harry knew that he rather smelled foul, like the dank interior of the Chamber of Secrets. It would be a good idea to take a bath before slipping into his bed. The hot bubble bath would also help him calm down and unwind. Harry was starting to develop some kind of awful migraine—which only worsened when he realized that he couldn't physically remove the ring. Then Blaise had stormed in and caught him buck naked in the bathtub.
"You didn't. I know for a fact that you couldn't get out from past the gate."
Harry turned away. Not only he was rather self conscious about his best friend seeing him almost naked (it was mainly because of the state of his body—Harry knew he was kind of scrawny, covered in old scars, and ugly to look at, especially when he dared compare himself with other third year Slytherin purebloods who constantly used optimal skincare products), he also didn't want to lie too much to his best friend. Harry might be able to manipulate Blaise using his newfound emotions and courage, but Blaise had always been the one beside him, even when he was only the pathetic, little, idiotic first year, so many years ago. So Harry knew Blaise at least deserved the type of honesty that Harry unfortunately couldn't grant him at the moment.
"I was searching for you the whole afternoon, you know."
Harry swallowed hard. He knew he couldn't lie anymore—Blaise knew that he had gone somewhere. But somehow, for Harry, spending an afternoon with Marvolo and Annana was a subject of utmost secrecy that he didn't want to share with anyone else. So Harry kept his mouth shut and blew the bubbles on the surface of the bathwater.
Suddenly big splashes of water flew all around him. Harry turned to find Blaise entering the bathtub—fully clothed, with his robes dragging—the boy coming full speed towards him. Harry tried to scramble over to the opposite side—yet there wasn't much room, and he realized he was trapped.
Blaise kept coming nearer and nearer until he was much too close for Harry's comfort. Then the Italian boy reached out, cradling Harry's face with both of his hands, forcing Harry to directly peer into the purple eyes of his best friend.
"Talk to me, Harry," Blaise cooed. "You can trust me. I honestly worry about you. About all your sudden moody changes. About your attitude these past few weeks. I know you are stressed and depressed, maybe because of Professor Snape, or by something else I don't know about, but I am truly worried. Just talk to me. I promise I will help you ease your pain."
Harry bit his lip. His cheeks started to flush, but he blamed this on the hot water. It had nothing to do with the sincerely worried, amethyst-colored eyes in front of him. Or the genuinely worried tone of the boy he called his best friend.
"Trust me."
And in the next moment, Harry felt another set of lips pressed onto his, for the second time that year.
Harry was confused.
Did being 'best friends' with someone permit him kiss to you? Did 'best friends' hold hands all the time, everywhere they went? He was sure that Blaise wouldn't want Harry to 'suck' him. After all, after the boy had kissed him, all Blaise did afterwards was help Harry dry himself off. They had then settled into their own beds. But the next morning, Blaise was the one who woke him up, and waited for him till class began. Just like usual. Nothing had changed… right?
He was currently sitting beside Blaise inside the Great Hall, each of them eating their dinners as their hands were intertwined underneath the Slytherin table. The other third years had seen them holding hands earlier that morning, so they weren't paying attention to this gesture anymore, but some of the older students saw it now, and were currently stealing glances over at the Italian-African boy and the Boy-Who-Lived.
To be honest, Harry wasn't very comfortable with the sudden closeness between him and his best friend. True, he was very honoured and glad that his best friend had suddenly decided to be even more buddy-buddy with him and spend more time with him, but Blaise's timing was just the worst. At that moment, Harry needed his solitude more than ever. He wanted no more than to hide inside the Room of Requirement at all times and read tomes on the subjects of Necromancy/Animagus. He also needed his space and time to think. To decide what he should do about the newly-made arrangements he'd made with Marvolo.
Harry admitted that spending time with Marvolo didn't sound bad at all—in fact, if he were still the eleven-year-old newbie from two years ago, Harry would have given everything to be with Marvolo all the time. But many things had happened since then, and everything had changed since that time. Being abandoned by Marvolo had proven to be, Harry realized, a huge blow to his mental state. When he was with the Dursleys, he'd always readily surrendered to the abusive treatment and the prospect of a bleak future, because it was clear back then there would be no hope for a better life. But Hogwarts, and the general world of Wizarding and magic, had showed him a different side to life, albeit not so nicely in the beginning. Yet after Marvolo had appeared, everything had changed—Harry still remembered desperately doing anything to make Marvolo happy so that the man wouldn't leave him.
It had been futile, since Marvolo had still eventually left him. He'd been handed the first huge disappointment in his life, which killed him a little inside. And after his uncle had forced him into doing that perverted deed, he'd created Harry's Box inside his head to cope. Yet not long after, Marvolo had returned to his life, this time using the diary. This time, Harry subconsciously tried to keep Tom as happy as possible, so that he wouldn't leave Harry anymore—even by refusing to acknowledge that Tom was Marvolo, until it was too late—and this plan had also failed. And this second blow had crushed the last remains of hope Harry ever dared to have. The last straw came when Marvolo returned to him again—seemingly annually he would come, year after year—this time, not as a voice or as a diary, but as a solid body, with a public identity to boot. Harry knew the risk of Marvolo leaving him a third time was smaller—after all, he knew Marvolo was kind of famous (he had seen in the Daily Prophet the courtesy being handed over to Theodore Nott)—but again, could he handle yet another disappointment?
And now he needed to reconsider his newly pledged resolution of becoming stronger, getting revenge and hurting others as much as they had hurt him. Harry needed to thank his lucky stars for that unexpected kiss that Marvolo had laid upon him, for it had been the trigger that had detonated Harry's Box for good. However, when he had seen Marvolo yesterday, and heard the man's explanations—although Harry had yet to decide whether he should trust the man—that every time he'd abandoned Harry, it hadn't been intentional; Harry was again facing a dilemma. Should he believe Marvolo again? More importantly, could he survive another possible abandonment, now that he had decided that he wouldn't depend on anyone else anymore?
His mind was filled with all these complicated questions and matters, something that usually wouldn't bother him at all—in fact, Harry was so used to single pointedly thinking about death and its prospects to even care about realistic consequences—and so he needed his privacy so badly now. He wanted to figure out what to do, the best way to go about it, and get everything in his life back under control.
Alas, he lacked experience in taking charge of his life, and the sudden waves of dramatic emotions stemming from all his issues had somehow made Harry think of Blaise's sudden affection and closeness as sources of discomfort.
"Harry? Do you want more steak? You need to eat more," Blaise whispered near his earlobe, making Harry blush. He still wasn't used to having someone so close to him. Harry was glad Blaise didn't look even a bit like his uncle; their respective builds could not be more different. Harry was thus able to rein in his reactionary fear whenever the Italian African boy came too closely into his comfort zone.
"N..no, I am full." Harry stuttered, but to support his statement, he seized a goblet of water and downed it fast. He needed to hang in there and calm himself down. He was supposed to be better at this now.
"That's not wine, silly." Pansy laughed. "I see that you two finally do it. What a waste of two gorgeous boys."
"Do…Do what?" Harry blushed even harder, remembering the kiss in the bathroom last night. And he hated himself when he heard his own stuttering voice. He sounded so weak! He should be acting like a cool serpent, the epitome of Slytherin! And he shouldn't be weak! He shouldn't blush! He shouldn't stutter! Harry berated himself and pinched himself as a form of punishment.
Blaise chuckled, speaking up for Harry. "You have Draco, after all, Parkinson. I see that you should have no reason to complain."
The Slytherin girl smirked and latched herself onto Draco's arm. Draco groaned.
"Thank you, Zabini." The Malfoy heir scowled as he tried to eat with his other hand, trying to ignore Pansy latching onto his arm.
"You are welcome." Blaise smiled like a gentleman. This was his revenge for yesterday's ambiguous warning from the blonde boy. He had been truly worried and hadn't been able to fall asleep, so he'd laid wake until he'd heard some sounds coming from the bathroom. He had quickly gone there, only to find Harry, wearing no clothes, naked, taking a bubble bath in the bathroom, naked.
Naked.
When Blaise had seen Harry's blushing adorable face, all he'd wanted to do was confess his love and kiss the life out of the other boy. They might be teenagers, but Blaise was almost 14 and he felt more mature than any of the other third year students. Ever since he was young, his mother had never bothered to shield him from her "adult" activities and duties. And so, right in the Slytherin bathroom, he had done what he had felt like doing, and now he was glad Harry hadn't refused him.
But it saddened him a little that Harry hadn't responded so well in kind. The boy had barely spoken to him and had only been blushing ever since they'd kissed (it looked adorable though). He looked lost, rather than one who was enjoying himself in Blaise's company. However, in some ways, Harry resembled a lost lamb that had followed his shepherd (a.k.a. Blaise) and had simply gone with the flow. But Blaise didn't mind. He preferred the meek Harry, because Harry's innocence was what he treasured most.
The Slytherin group was walking to their next class, Care of Magical Creatures. Blaise wasn't in the class; he had Arithmancy instead, so Harry was free from his best friend for the moment. Yet it all seemed like wishful thinking, for Pansy Parkinson, who took Care with him, suddenly came up beside him and took his hand.
"I see that somebody has given you a gift," Pansy smirked, and then giggled.
Harry blushed, but he maintained his composure. "…So?"
"That was fast. And this shows how possessive Zabini is." Pansy smirked. Harry's face drained of colour as he realised that Pansy had figured the ring was a gift from Blaise. "Weird, though," she continued chattering. "I would never have thought that this was his style. I mean, I can see why he chose a green gem, but a golden band? I thought Zabini had better fashion sense than this."
Harry stayed silent. He neither confirmed nor denied her statements, because he didn't want anybody to know about Marvolo. But then again, Pansy was not only one of Draco's group members, but also his girlfriend of sorts. Harry was almost certain that Pansy would know all about Marvolo. It brought another question to mind though… why on earth did Draco know about Marvolo's connection to Harry?
Harry's mind whirled. Draco's father. He was a very prominent politician in the Ministry. It would thus not be improbable at all for Marvolo to intimately know the Malfoy family. The Malfoys were very famous after all. Maybe Marvolo had paid Draco an allowance to kidnap him.
"Are you listening to me?" Pansy clicked her fingers in front of Harry's face. Harry nodded half-heartedly. He didn't care about what the girl was babbling, anyway.
"Hey, Harry! You need to realize that this ring is an engagement ring!"
"What!?" Harry almost choked on his next words. "What do you mean?"
"A ring, with some sort of family symbol, I guess, but I am not sure which family's symbol. I have never seen Zabini's, but maybe that is the Zabini crest. Anyway, according to the old Wizarding tradition, when you are presented with a ring like this and you accept it, it means that you are actually accepting the contract of betrothal."
Harry scowled, but then he checked himself and arranged his face in a stoic expression. "I don't think so, Pansy. It's just a… a practical gift." Marvolo wouldn't give him something that important. The ring was just a Portkey that was convenient enough to be kept with him at all times. It was functionally similar to the snake pendant Professor Snape had given him last time. The pendant was still lying in the bottom of his cupboard, since Harry couldn't see it without being reminded of the sad, current, comatose state of Professor Snape. It saddened him and it made him feel somewhat guilty. Professor Snape had done so much for him; he'd been his teacher, become his guardian, and had thrown him a birthday party; but he could do nothing to revive the Potions Master in return.
Yes, that had to be it. The ring was simply given to him for practical reasons. Marvolo didn't say anything about a betrothal, anyway. Stupid Harry; again, always leaping to conclusions. After all, why would Marvolo ever want him? Harry was nothing but a scrawny ugly boy whom nobody wanted. Useless. Harry was sure the only reason why Marvolo would ever want to keep him around, was to use him as a slave. A wholly devoted slave. Lower than the status of the House Elves.
"Hmmm… maybe I should ask Blaise about it." Pansy sang the sentence, teasing the green eyed boy. Harry pouted.
"Pansy, please stop this. And don't ask Blaise, I don't like either of us being interrogated."
"Fine, fine." Pansy smirked and they reached the outer perimeter of the Forbidden Forest. Students had already started to gather and soon, the class began. Harry was glad the girl's attention was diverted away from him. He didn't want her to question him or push his buttons any longer. He needed to think so badly. He wanted to be alone.
All of the sudden, he felt so hopeless.
His life was getting harder and more confusing by the minute.
Comment please. I need to know how badly I butchered this chapter. With all the expectation, I am really afraid I let you down. The plot will catch up next chapter. Sorry being so slow.
Thanks for reading.