Finally finished! Ugh, this chapter was such a disaster to write. I hate to try a mopy and depressed Harry, it's just so hard... Anyway, I hope I didn't fail too badly...
Besides, this chapter is a bit longer then normally but I wanted to put some things in it...

Onto another point: my mail/ fanfiction had some troubles so I missed quite some reviews so I couldn't exactly tell how many people wanted the torture scene. Therefore: there is no torture scene in this chapter.

And my last point: I was really tired when I wrote the last part and I really wanted to post this chapter but I'm too tired to check it. So if you guys notice some mistakes, just tell me and I'll change it.

Summary: When Sirius told Harry that all pure-blood families were interrelated, he wondered if he had other living family members, besides the Dursley's, who were close enough related to fall under the blood protection, hoping that once he found them that he could legally live with that family and leave the Dursley's forever. What he found changes everything, for both him and the war... Dark Fic.

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling... or other people.

Warnings: depressed Harry (terrible to write)

Pairings: TR/OC, HP/LL

I want to thank everyone who has reviewed, it's appreciated.

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and don't forget to leave a review once you've read it!

Family ties

Chapter 20

Letters, books '…'
Spells, inside the memory …
Parseltongue ":…:"

oOoOoOo

Days went by and before he knew it, it was the evening before Christmas.
He was once again laying in the bed which had been deemed his, and he was once again looking at the ceiling hoping that the images in front of his eyes would disappear.
He carefully sat up, mindful of the snakes which were using him as a heater and pillow, and took a quick peek at the time, only to groan as he realised that it was already two am and he still hadn't been able to fall asleep… again.

He had spent the last couple of days – more like one day and a couple of hours, the time which had gone by since Voldemort had… well tortured his ex-caretakers – reading and sleeping – though more reading than sleeping - in an attempt to forget about the fact that he was the reason his former caretakers had been tortured and probably killed. And even though they had only been tortured with the Cruciatus curse and he hadn't actually seen Voldemort kill them he still felt guilty and horrified as it had been his fault that they were… well dead. Probably anyway.

His nightmares – when he actually managed to fall asleep – had been filled with his once family's faces as they screamed in pain, their shouts and screams at him that it had been all his fault – which he already knew but which only made him feel more guilty – and the faces of his friends as they told him what a coward he was for doing something Voldemort wanted and how he had turned dark – which he hadn't even though his grandfather was the leader of the dark section - before they all turned away from him, abandoning him to the mercies of Voldemort. Leaving him, once again, alone in a too harsh world.

All in all, he had had a crappy two days and he still didn't know if Voldemort had found out what he wanted to… test. He hoped he did because he was not going to be in the same room as Voldemort – not that he wanted to be in the same room as Voldemort at all – if he was going to torture someone.

Strangely enough, the snakes – who seemed to know how he felt and who, weirdly enough, seemed to dislike seeing him… depressed – had tried to comfort him with funny tales about their lives and with gifts – which mostly consisted of dead rats, mice and other small animals – but he could understand their meaning and he was thankful for their efforts.
One of them - a small, green snake he always carried around because he actually liked it… not that he really disliked the others - had even started to call him 'master' instead of 'master's hatchling'. The small snake was about three feet long with a forest green body, yellow eyes and small lighter green, round marks adorning its body.

Equally weird was that he hadn't seen hide nor… hair – which Voldemort only had if he choose to look like a fifty year old version of Tom Riddle… which he always seemed to do when he spend some time with just Harry – of Voldemort since the man had… tested some things and that made him feel worse, somehow – he didn't know why and he was not willing to find out why.

He sighed as he realised that he wouldn't get anymore sleep and he carefully slit out of the bed – which got him some disgruntled and annoyed hisses from the snakes, which he ignored – before he padded towards the comfortable chair near the fire in the study, hoping that reading would at least keep the memories and the visions his mind had created at bay.

oOo

A lot of crashes, shrill hoots and menacing hisses managed to wake him up the next morning. He blinked lazily in confusion – momentarily unaware of the horrors of a couple of days ago – before it all came crashing back and he shuddered slightly and hugged himself as he remembered what he had been forced to do.

":Get back here, bird-prey!:" a female hiss sounded before another crash alerted him to the fact that maybe he should check what was going on so he quickly forced the dark and depressing thoughts away before he pried himself away from the chair - apparently he had managed to fall asleep while reading one of the books.
He carefully stretched to get the kinks out and hissed in pleasure as he felt his spine pop back in place – he was not going to tell a snake to stop hunting when he was stiff and sore from sleeping in a chair all night, the last time he had done that he had ended up getting bitten by one of the pythons and he was not willing to try that again.

He carefully made his way over to the bedroom only to stop short as he saw the mess. His covers and pillows were ripped and the feathers that had previously been inside said covers and pillows lay everywhere, the nightstand lay on his side and his trunk had been overthrown by something, probably one of the larger snakes. Besides that, feathers from different owls lay everywhere – though the owls themselves seemed to be still alive, only visibly annoyed by the attacks – and while the floor was covered by irritated, hissing snakes, the sky was filled with angry hooting owls which seemed to carry either packages, letters or both.

":What is going on here?:" he asked a soon as he had managed to regain his wits.
":They entered through the hard invisible protection, master,:" the snake which he carried around the most said, ":one of them smells like master's prey but the rest smell like bird-prey. Can we eat them?:"
Harry quickly looked up and searched until he spied the white feathers of his owl Hedwig.
":Hedwig!:" he quickly called out and held up his arm so she could land on it. He had sent her away as soon as he could so the snakes wouldn't hurt her and Voldemort wouldn't use her as bait for… something. He immediately checked her to see if she was okay, only to sigh as he noticed that she was unhurt, though she did seem awfully angry if her glare towards the snakes was an indication.
":No, you can't eat the owls… I mean bird-preys,:" Harry told the snakes, ":they belong to people who want them back alive. And this one on my arm is Hedwig, my ow- er… bird-prey and I'll turn the snake who hurts her into a worm! Understood?:"
The snakes hissed in annoyance before they bobbed their heads and returned to the warmth of the hearth. One of the snakes, the one which called him master, carefully slithered up his body until it was twined around his arm, near Hedwig. It just looked at her for a couple of seconds before it bobbed its head at her and closed its eyes.

oOoOoOo

Voldemort stared pensively at the package in front of him, his thoughts a mile away as he tried to come up with a way to get the boy to come with him to a Death Eater meeting without forcing the boy – as it wouldn't do to have a sulking, moping, irritated and depressed heir in front of the Death Eaters as that would appear as if he had … grown soft - and without giving away who the child was and how he felt about the Death Eaters, the war and his side of the war.
He wondered briefly on which side the boy was, before he decided that it didn't matter as his side was now the boy's side, if he wanted it or not.

He contemplated the idea of promising to hand over Pettigrew in exchange for the boy's obedience during the meetings. The man had been useless after he had betrayed his best friends' location – though he had had some use when he resurrected him – but he knew that the boy would just hand him over to the Ministry, which would free the boy's godfather. After which the man would want to claim guardianship of the boy and which would only lead to the discovery that the boy was related to him, something he just wouldn't allow.
Suddenly he remembered how the boy had never known about his parents – the real story – until he had turned eleven. He decided, pleased, that he could work with that.

He had… avoided the boy after he had forced him to choose between his friends and the Muggles as he didn't know how to deal with someone who was clearly depressed and who hated himself – at least, that was what the snakes had told him.
And while he felt slightly guilty for hurting the boy – something which was completely new for him and which he blamed on the magical promise that he would never hurt the child as long as he was his heir – he was aware that he would do it again if he had to, as he had found a way to keep from hurting the boy when he tortured someone… well he knew how to keep the boy from hurting badly when he tortured someone. He knew that the scar would still sting as long as he was indifferent to the child.

He had tried different things while torturing the Muggles - with only the Cruciatus as he was afraid that he would… enjoy it too much.
The first thing he had tried was reducing the amount of power he used in the spell. Sadly enough, it hadn't worked as he still felt pleasure at the pained screams and the scar still hurt.
The next thing he had tried was to suppress the satisfaction he felt as he tortured someone. Needless to say, that didn't work either.
In the end – after five more attempts which all failed and after the horse-faced woman had lost her sanity, his heir had passed out and the scar had begun to bleed again – he had decided to try and close the link between the two of them. It had taken him some time and effort but he had managed to close the link completely so when he had checked the monitoring spell which told him the condition of the child while torturing the young pig he had been happy to see that the child felt only a slight sting. Something which the child could easily ignore and which would only cause some slight discomfort.

He gracefully stood from his seat and picked the package up before he made his way towards the door. It was time to deal with his heir… and Christmas, the first he would celebrate – suffer, he hated Christmas – with someone since his beloved had died and he had to give his daughter away.

oOo

His felt his eyebrow rise as he noticed the mess, the many snakes which were eying the owls and the small stack of gifts – which seemed to mostly consist of candy - the child had already unpacked.
"What happened here?" He asked.
":The snakes were trying to eat the owls,:"his heir answered distractedly as he unpacked another box of sweets.

He dismissed the child's words in favour of watching the snowy white owl which was resting on the boy's shoulder and the small snake which was sleeping around his upper arm.
"Have you named him yet?" he asked curious.
":Who?:" the boy asked confused and he turned his full attention towards him.
"The snake, child," Voldemort told him dryly, "who else?"
":Why should I name it?:" he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.
"Because he is your familiar," he answered slowly as if he was talking to a small child.
":It's not. Hedwig is my familiar,:" the boy protested.
"Hedwig?" Voldemort asked, his eyebrow raised and the boy carefully raised his arm and pointed towards the owl before he started to pet her.
"Can you talk to her?"
":She can understand me,:" the child pointed out.
"That is not the same," Voldemort explained, "a familiar is a creature which can understand you no matter what language you speak and which can understand how you feel and where you are no matter what."
":Hedwig can do that,:" the boy pointed out, ":She found me here and she could understand me even though I was speaking Parseltongue.:"
"Interesting," Voldemort muttered, "but she doesn't share you magic, does she? The snake does. Name it."
":Bu -,:" the boy protested.
"Think of it as a pet and name it," he said through gritted teeth.
":Fine,:" the boy huffed, ":I name it Ular.:"
"Ular?" Voldemort asked amused, "do you know what it means?"
The child just shrugged, ":Don't know, I just like the name.:"

"Anyway, I came to tell you that we'll celebrate Christmas together and to get you to gather your… gifts and bring them with you," Voldemort sneered as the boy blinked at him, clearly surprised, "leave the sweets here."
The boy nodded and quickly relieved the rest of the owls of their letters and packages while Voldemort moved towards Nagini to ask her about the child's health, which she answered with 'withdrawn' and 'depressed'.

oOo

He watched on as the boy unwrapped a thick book about mythical creatures, a weird but rare plant, more boxes of candy, a two-way mirror and a couple of books which were clearly from the Black library, a box filled with home-made fudge and a green sweater, a couple of books on defence, produced which were clearly for either pranks and a pair of completely different socks.

He had brought the boy to the smallest sitting room the Mansion had. It wasn't decorated for the season – luckily – but the fire was burning merrily and there was hot chocolate, so that had to count for something.
Besides, the room was… cosy enough as it was.

He took another sip of his tea – he preferred it over hot chocolate - as he wondered how to give him his own gift. He knew that he didn't have to give the boy something – he even doubted if the boy had anything for him – but he had felt it… appropriate.

":What the hell?:" the boy's words interrupted his thoughts and he turned back towards his heir with a short: "Language."
Only to stop short as he noticed the pink and golden necklace, which was clearly meant for a girl, the child's expression of utter disgust and the fact that it seemed to be the last present, though he still had the letters to read.
"Might I inquire as to why you're were given a necklace meant for a girl?" he asked him smoothly but the boy ignored him as he rummaged through the box in search of a note. He repeated the question but the boy didn't seem to hear him as he muttered something under his breath.
He cleared his throat loudly, completely irritated by the child's behaviour, and the boy finally looked up, a note in his hand.
"What does it say?" he asked curious.
":Nothing,:" the boy sounded annoyed.
"What did I tell you about lying?" Voldemort asked, his eyebrow raised, "now, either you hand me that note or you'll tell me what it says, your choice."
":Fine, one of my friends thinks I like his sister and he wants us together, badly, so he sent me the necklace so I could give it to her,:" the boy grumbled.
"And I take it you don't like this girl?" he asked amused, his irritation forgotten. The boy just nodded and a silence fell as he threw it, disgusted, against the wall.

"Anyway, on to another subject," Voldemort said after a couple of seconds, "first of all, I've something for you."
He took the small package from its place on the ground next to him and placed it in front of the child before he flicked his wand and turned it back to its normal size. His heir looked at him, surprise clear in his eyes. He raised his eyebrow and the boy flushed, much to the amusement of the small snake, Ular, wrapped around his arm, but he carefully unwrapped it to show the books Bellatrix had managed to get her hands on. They weren't dark, but they weren't light either. What most people didn't know was that the Black family had a lot of books about grey magic.
The boy looked up at him, clearly unsure as to what to do, before his face suddenly brightened and he placed the books next to his seat.
":I've got something for you too,:" he said nervously and he bit his lip slightly as he picked up a neatly wrapped gift and handed it to him.
Voldemort looked curiously at the boy as he hadn't expected him to bring something for him.
He turned his attention back to the gift and studied it. It was a… novelty to get a gift from someone who wasn't out to get something in return. At least, he doubted that the boy had an alternative motif for giving him a gift.

A soft, impatient sound made him snap out of his thoughts and he carefully removed the wrapping paper, only to gasp as he saw his old diary – now with hole – the fang of a basilisk and two old books written in what seemed to be Gaelic and old Norse.
"Where did you get this?" he demanded.
":Er…," the boy squirmed, ":the books are from the Black library, I managed to salvage them from the clean-up… and the fang and the diary… well...:"
"Spit it out," he hissed.
":Did someone inform you of what happened almost three year ago?:" the boy asked him attentively.
"I can't say they have," he hissed – which was a lie - and he almost slipped in Parseltongue in his anger, "why don't you inform me?"
":Well… Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy that is, gave the diary to Ginny and er… well she ,:" the boy said rushed.
":What?:" he asked dangerously.
The boy took a deep breath and repeated, slowly, ":she opened the Chamber of Secrets and I went after her to safe her. In the end I killed the Basilisk and stabbed the diary.:"

":You did what?:" he asked, carefully keeping a leash on his temper. In the end he failed and the windows, the mugs and small glass and stone trinkets shattered.
The boy curled up in fear as his magic snapped and crackled about him but he ignored him as he tried to get a grip on his temper and magic – and his sanity. He hoped that this… incident didn't make him loose his sanity like it would have just weeks ago.

It took him a couple of minutes, but finally he managed to calm himself enough to say, "I already knew about the opening of the Chamber. Lucius, however, failed to mention that the diary was destroyed and the Basilisk killed."
":Er…,:" it was clear that the boy didn't know how to react to that.
"Why did you give this to me?" Voldemort asked emotionlessly.
":I though you might want them back,:"the child mumbled.

He rose from his chair and moved towards exit.
"Stay here," he ordered the child, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

There was something he had to do. Hopefully the shields would hold.

I hope Harry's situation is clear... it was kinda hard to write it...

About the snake's name: I was really uninspired so its pretty straight forward. Wanna guess what it means?

Anyway: please push that lovely little button at the bottom of this page and review!

~Marwana