Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN:
Hmm, well, I've realized that there isn't much I can answer to questions in reviews without spoiling the plot. So you'll just have to be patient and see your questions answered in future chapters.
Now, as promised, here's the fast update. This chappie starts with a Julian part, but then it's back to Hogwarts.
Enjoy and let me know what you think!
Part I: Chapter 24
After Julian's performance and success in the Austrian Ministry -just like how he had transitioned from being the Dark Lord's boy-toy, to his lover, and then his favorite- he indisputably became Grindelwald's protégé, being directly involved in planning the conquest of Checoslovakia.
Though, many of those plans had already been developed by Grindelwald some time ago, some of which Julian thoroughly despised.
It was when he had nearly spent three years as Gellert's follower that the wizard chose to share with him one of Konrad Von Krauss' reports.
Up until then, he had only known that Konrad had been sent to England a few days before Julian himself had been inducted into the ranks. Not having Konrad around had been a vast relief, given that the Erlichmanns and Von Krausses were feuding rivals since time immemorial.
As the date approached in which Konrad would return to Germany, Grindelwald had handed Julian a scroll of parchment sent by his Right Hand, chortling as if he had just read the funniest of jokes.
Julian hadn't been able to make much sense of the information. All Konrad wrote about was 'the Parselmouth boys': how he had legilimized the caregiver of a muggle orphanage called St. Jerome's, a girl who was closest to 'the boys' –some muggle woman by the name of Alice Jones- and he was sending those memories in flasks; how he had constructed a muggle identity as the long-lost son of some muggle Lord, and was thus known as Alistair Ashcroft.
How with that identity he had procured a job in the Foreign Office to thus leak more information to an old muggle politician by the name of Winston Churchill, and had also formed an acquaintance with Sarah Jones, sister of the Alice woman, thus creating an indirect link to 'the boys', to be used when and if the Dark Lord decided –for what purpose, it didn't say.
And finally, how he had at last found the underground group of Communists that were causing so much trouble in muggle circles and killed the leader, noting that a man named Robert Hutchins was part of the group, coincidentally linked to 'the boys' because he was courting the Alice Jones woman.
Gellert crowed with laughter. "Isn't it just the most marvelous of ideas, that tidbit about the camps?"
"Hmm?" Julian said distractedly, staring at the scroll, still stuck with the first baffling fact, if Konrad's information was to be believed. He slowly shook his head and peered up at the Dark Lord, as he breathed out disbelievingly, "Parselmouths, truly? In this day and age? Who are they?"
"Never mind about that," retorted Gellert curtly, waving a hand dismissively before his hazel eyes glinted with amusement and he chortled loudly. "What do you say to the part about the Communists, mein Edelstein?"
Julian blinked in puzzlement before he read that part again. The leader Konrad had killed had been a wizard, a halfblood in fact: the father a muggle, the mother a witch and German Jew who had apparently disappeared.
The man had escaped from persecution and landed in England with his own evidence and ideas of what was happening to the Jews in Germany. Clearly, the halfblood had known that Jews were 'disappearing' because Grindelwald was capturing and imprisoning them in Nurmengard. Yet the halfblood couldn't say such to the group of muggle Communists he had formed. Apparently, he told them Jews were being carted off to mysterious camps.
It seemed to be the explanation that had taken hold and spread, being believed by some few muggles –mostly Communists and Jews, their relatives and acquaintances, that knew nothing of the Wizarding World, nor about the Guardians, evidently- but who knew Jews were 'disappearing'.
"Camps?" finally echoed Julian, disconcerted.
"Yes, camps," said Gellert, a crooked grin on his face. "Muggles like to throw each other in these so-called labor camps." He sighed wistfully. "I remember, long ago, that Ulrich told me how camps have been used throughout muggle history. It's hardly an original idea." His hazel eyes glinted as he added with amusement, "Yet, after the annexation of Austria, my puppet and his lackeys are beginning to wonder what to do with the Jews. Wouldn't you say that the idea of camps presents a simple solution?" He chortled. "Oh, the irony!"
Julian could certainly see the horrid irony of the halfblood's lies about camps becoming true, but he still found the concept a bit flummoxing.
"When Konrad comes back, it will be his task to work on the matter," decided Gellert in a positively cheerful tone.
Some months later, Konrad Von Krauss did come back, and it was the day when Santi's prophetic statement of "you'll find the answers to all your questions in Nurmengard" began to come true.
Gellert had vanished into Anacleto Armonios' quarters, giving Julian precise instructions to guard the door and not let anyone disturb them. Apparently, whatever Armonios had been working on had finally bore some fruits and he was prepared to earn his keep by dazzling Gellert with his brilliance.
Julian had been standing in the corridor, twitching with curiosity, when he had seen a tall, imposing man with icy blue eyes and strictly-cropped ashy blonde hair, clicking his boots on the stone floors as he made his way towards Julian's post.
With eyes widening for a fraction of a second, Julian recognized the wizard immediately.
Konrad Von Krauss' lips flattened into a severe line full of distaste as he caught sight of Julian, his icy eyes narrowing as he scrutinized him. Even though feeling a frisson of apprehension and wariness, Julian put up with the inspection with a calm expression on his face.
"Stand aside, boy," Konrad commanded curtly as soon as he reached him.
"The Dark Lord asked not to be disturbed," Julian said softly, showing nothing but meek politeness.
"He'll want to see me," retorted Konrad briskly, piercing him with a chilling stare.
"As you wish," said Julian pleasantly, bowing low as he took a step away from the door he had been guarding.
Without a second glance at him, as if Julian was too lowly to be worthy of further notice, Konrad entered the rooms.
A click, and the sound of wards securing the quarters once more, made it evident to Julian that the conversation to be held had to be a very important one. Having been intrigued by Anacleto Armonios' presence in Nurmengard for too long a time, he finally decided to take action.
Using the set of spells taught to him by Dumbledore in order to eavesdrop through wards without being detected, Julian was able to hear every astonishing, flabbergasting, mind-boggling word spoken.
And suddenly, everything he had ever known about Santi throughout his entire life, all the mysteries, all the unexplainable facts, and so much more, abruptly fell into place like the pieces of some gigantic puzzle that had baffled him for a long time. It was as if a blind had been ripped from his eyes and everything became bright and clear; everything finally made sense.
He was breathless with the revelations, and that night, as much as sex with Gellert had become a wondrous, fabulous experience, he had faked a stomachache and thus been dismissed from his duties as a lover.
Pacing in his rooms, Julian had awaited for Santi, because Santi would appear, because Santi would know what happened that day. It had been long anticipated and planned, Julian was able to realize.
And then, Santi shimmered into existence and Julian swirled around, staring at him, with eyes filled with wonder and awe.
"I finally know who you are," he breathed out, his mind still a whirlwind of thoughts, but it was a cohesive one.
He brought up a hand towards Santi, and the man seemed to realize what Julian needed and became solid just as Julian's fingers trailed down Santi's cheek, mesmerized as he observed Santi's naturally tanned skin that faintly glowed with golden specks, the curly dark hair and handsome face, the milky eyes that swirled with sparks, like stars, constellations and nebulas floating across the sheer irises. Were they really, or just a reflection of something within?
"Santiago Torres," said Julian at last in a soft, fascinated murmur. "The young, brilliant Spanish Unspeakable who discovered the clams in Atlantis and was directly affected by their Sands of Time, who vanished to never be seen or heard from again. Anacleto Armonios was your boss, the one ultimately responsible for what happened to you – that's why you despise him."
Mutely, Santi merely nodded, and Julian let out a whoop of victorious joy as so many of his speculations were confirmed.
With sky blue eyes shinning, Julian continued excitedly, "I know who our Harry is as well. The anchor, the soul, the time-traveler Anacleto spoke about. The baby that Gellert suggested. He told Anacleto that the Sands of Time had to be directly applied to the baby."
He paused and slowly shook his head in wonder, as he added in a whisper, "And it has already happened. I'm living in the secondary timeline."
Startled, Santi stared at him. "How did you come to that realization?"
Julian scoffed and replied tartly, "It wasn't easy to wrap my mind around such revelation, or to accept it as true, but it was evident because Gellert knew how the practical aspects had to work, of something that's supposedly impossible. He knew more than Anacleto himself, in that respect!" He shook his head, before he frowned and demanded, "Did Sybilla Spyros tell him about it, or did she leave the knowledge in the memories she allowed him to take from her?"
"She didn't tell him about that," replied Santi quietly. "Grindelwald saw himself in one memory of her visions, throwing Sands of Time on a baby and enchanting a spell."
Julian nodded, before he frowned at him in deep pensiveness, his voice slow as thoughts unraveled into words, "I always thought you found me first, and then spent your life with me as I grew up, whilst you waited to find some boy called Harry you greatly cared about. But it was the other way around, wasn't it?" He gazed at him searchingly. "You found him first. When did it happen?"
"A few months from now. This November."
With his suspicions confirmed, Julian chuckled wryly under his breath. "Of course, Time isn't linear to you as it is for the rest of us..."
He trailed off and then murmured quietly, "All the things about past and future that you knew and I never could explain why, other than to think you were a Seer." He shot him a piercing look. "And you often said you were one of a kind. You told Sybilla Spyros that the Centaurs called you The Fates. It's rather accurate, isn't it? You can jump through Time with the natural ease of someone swimming through tides."
"Something like that," said Santi pleasantly, his lips quirking upwards.
"In what century were you living in when you felt it?" inquired Julian, fixedly staring at him. "Because you felt it somehow, didn't you, when a baby was affected by the Sands of Time, as you were. Was it a pull, a connection, a sudden awareness of some sort?" He tilted his head to a side, his gaze riveted on Santi. "You felt there was suddenly someone like you out there and you searched for him. For years, centuries, eons?"
Before Santi had a chance to reply, Julian shook his head at himself, as he amended, "No. You cannot really tell, can you? How can you possibly measure Time when it's not linear to you." He blinked at him. "If I asked for how long you've existed you wouldn't be able to answer, would you? Time can be an eternity or the blink of an eye for you."
"True," said Santi calmly.
Frowning, Julian continued, "You looked for him, in all the possible timelines he could have landed in, and you found him in this one, some months from now. And then you traveled to the past of this timeline and found me." He skewered him with a hard gaze. "The decisions you've made me take-"
He rose up a hand as soon as Santi opened his mouth, looking hurt. "No. I made them willingly, I know. My point is that the paths I've taken are serving as a catalyst, for things to go your way. To shape this timeline as you need it to be. Your reasons and motives are not the same, but you, like Gellert, want this secondary timeline to be the one which survives. In your case, it's because you want Harry and he's here."
Julian paused as a sudden spark of understanding lightened in his mind. He felt grimness and anger in Harry's behalf, yet sorrow, sympathy, and pity for the being before him.
"You could spare him from it," he murmured quietly. "You could travel to the future and prevent Gellert from using the Sands of Time on Harry and let him have a normal life. But you won't, because you've always been lonely."
Santi narrowed his milky eyes at him, clearly not caring for his words, but Julian trudged on firmly, "Unlike other magical creatures that are considered 'immortal' because they live for millennia, your existence is unlimited and there isn't anyone else like you - no one that could be a companion. Anyone 'normal' you could possibly love and care about would eventually die." He skewered him with a demanding gaze. "But Harry won't? Will he become what you are? How does it work, how long will it take?"
"I don't know," admitted Santi reluctantly. "The transformations on me caused by the Sands of Time weren't instantaneous. They occurred erratically. Thus, I have no way of predicting how it will work in Harry's case or even if he'll fully become what I am."
"But he already has an ability that was not his by inherent nature," interjected Julian thoughtfully. "You told me that, once, regarding his magic-sensitivity. So, do the Sands of Time affect the body-"
"The soul. They transform the soul," retorted Santi shortly. "And the changes will be reflected in the magical core and body that his soul is in – that's what will grant him abilities as time passes, but I cannot predict which or when."
"I see," mumbled Julian, his eyes slightly widening with wonderment. In the next instant, he frowned deeply. "I don't understand one thing. Gellert said the time-traveler had to die before he was born in the future, because how can he be born with the same soul if his time-traveler self already has it? Doesn't it mean that Harry will be trapped in a loop?"
"No," said Santi with a heavy sigh. "There'll be no loop because the timelines will not go on coexisting beyond the day in which Harry is made to time-travel. Only the so-called secondary timeline will remain after that."
Julian frowned, not really understanding the explanation. He shook his head, before he said insistently, scowling at him, "Be that as it may, it still means that Gellert is planning on killing Harry before he's born in the future. How can you have him as a companion if he's going to die?"
"His soul won't," replied Santi wearily, not looking as if he enjoyed the topic of conversation. His lips twisted in a pained moue. "It will be preserved in a locket and transferred into another body, a baby's. He'll be reborn, in a manner of speaking."
"Doesn't sound too good," muttered Julian, glaring and feeling a mite indignant.
Santi clenched his teeth as he gritted out, "I'm not going to discuss this further with you. It is what it is."
As if to make his point, he vanished from sight without another word and Julian was left blinking at empty space. It was certainly a touchy subject.
It was several days before Santi returned, and as soon as he made an appearance in Julian's chambers, he was glowered at.
"Where in Merlin's beard have you been?" snapped Julian crossly. "Did you go traipsing into the future to see how Harry will turn out?"
Santi's eyebrows shot upwards. "What's the matter with you?" His lips then quirked upwards as he tutted tauntingly, clearly in a cheery disposition, "And using light wizarding expressions in a tower full of dark wizards isn't the wisest of choices."
Utterly ignoring Santi's humorous quips, in no mood for them, Julian pointed a finger at the book lying on his desk, as he said irritably, "That's what's the matter with me."
Just the day before, Gellert had said to him with a wry chuckle, "He abhors the 'ghastly, uncivilized, horrid little country', as he calls it. I cannot send Konrad back to England so soon, he would never forgive me. Thus, I'm giving this mission to you, mein Edelstein."
Julian had been given a portkey, instructions, and a very familiar book – 'Obscure Dark Lords and their Inventions'.
"For some reason, Gellert is interested in two Parselmouth boys that live in some muggle orphanage," said Julian frowning as his voice then turned puzzled. "I would understand it if the boys could actually be Parselmouths, but I don't see how they can. A Parselmouth hasn't been born in India in centuries and the only other bloodline with the trait was Salazar Slytherin's, and everyone knows it died off ages ago. It's clear that Konrad must have made a mistake…"
He trailed off, his brows furrowing, before he grabbed the book and flipped through it, until he pointed a finger at the first page of a chapter. "Gellert wants one of those boys to read part of this chapter. That's all he said. He gave me a portkey that will take me to the orphanage, along with the boy's name and one of Konrad's pensieve memories. So I'll know what the boy looks like-"
It was then that Santi broke into loud guffaws, heaving and grabbing his midriff as he bent forward and kept laughing.
At first bewildered, Julian stared at him, startled. When his life-long companion just kept chortling, apparently at his expense, he scowled at the man, highly annoyed.
"What's so amusing?" he snapped, irked.
"You still haven't figured it out, eh?" said Santi with a last chuckle. "Well, behoove me if I spoiled the surprise."
"What surprise?" said Julian, thoroughly disconcerted.
Ignoring the question, Santi glanced at the portkey lying on the desk. "When will it activate?"
"In fifteen minutes," replied Julian, still frowning bemusedly.
Santi shot him a wide, pearly-white grin. "I came just in time, then. I'll come along with you."
"If you wish," said Julian, eyeing him suspiciously. "What aren't you telling me?"
"You'll soon see," quipped Santi cheerfully.
Julian scowled, before he shook his head and said gravely, "I don't know if I'll carry out this mission." He gestured at the book, frowning. "That chapter regards the Dark Lord Horkos and the artifact he created." His voice turned anxious, as he added, "Why would Gellert want a magical child to know about Horcruxes? I don't like it one bit."
Indeed, when Gellert had given him his mission, he had instantly recognized the book as the one in which he had found the information regarding The Globe. It was then, also, when he suddenly understood why Dumbledore had asked him if he believed that Grindelwald might have created any of the other artifacts mentioned in the tome.
He could understand how it could greatly worry Dumbledore if Gellert had made a Horcrux, but really, the whole notion was rather ridiculous. Grindelwad had never given any indication that he was remotely interested in immortality, and if he did, the wizard would certainly come up with some other way.
Tearing out a piece of one's soul to hide it in an object that could be easily destroyed wasn't the brightest of ideas. Yet, to some ignorant little boy who knew no better, it might. And Julian certainly didn't want to be the one responsible for some innocent boy doing such a horrid thing to himself.
"Do proceed with the mission," said Santi gravely. "Believe me, it's for the best."
Yanked from his musings, Julian glanced at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"I'll explain soon," said Santi, before his lips quirked in amusement as his milky eyes trailed over Julian. "You are going to change, aren't you?"
Julian's lips twisted with distaste as he glanced down at himself.
Earlier in the day he had accompanied Gellert to a meeting in the Reichstag, and he had dressed to play the part, since when he had become Gellert's personal secretary to the eyes of the muggles, they had demanded that he became a member of one their organizations, giving proof that he was a 'pure Aryan'.
Julian had felt quite insulted and indignant at the request. The Erlichmanns –just like the Von Krausses, before Konrad had been made to marry the Russian Ludmilla– had always been very proud that they were not only purebloods that could be traced back to Roman Times, but also of pure German stock.
After being educated in Beauxbatons, Julian didn't care much about such matters. But when a bunch of pathetic muggles who were being led by the nose dared to question his blood purity, it did irk him.
Gellert had crowed with laughter, finding it vastly amusing. The Dark Lord had certainly had a blast forging papers for Julian, giving him a purely muggle ancestry.
It was thus that he was still wearing the SS Nazi uniform, with high black leather boots, puffed black pants, stiff uniformed black jacket with lapels displaying the silver stripes, stars, and the SS insignia that looked like two lightning bolts, along with the military-style peaked cap, red armband with the swastika cross, and belt with the Meine Ehre heißt Treue –'My honor is loyalty'- motto on the buckle.
"Or are you planning on giving the Brits a nasty fright at the mere sight of you?" said Santi with a chortle.
"You have a point," said Julian wryly.
In no time, he changed into a plain wizarding attire that he then proceeded to transfigure into cotton shirt, wool vest, and simple muggle worker-class pants, casting glamours on his features, giving him a forgettable, common face.
Soon, with book in hand, they were both taking the portkey to be swept away.
The London muggle neighborhood didn't impress Julian much. In fact, it was quite ghastly.
From Konrad, he knew that Dumbledore had already paid the 'Parselmouth boys' a visit. Thus, they would need to go to Diagon Alley at some point if they were starting Hogwarts in September. It would be the best opportunity in which to do it, and thankfully, Julian knew his way around wizarding England, having traveled to the country with his parents.
The inconvenience was that he had no way of knowing when the boys would go. So he prepared himself for a stake out that could last days or even weeks.
He chose an expanse of wall between two houses across the street from the orphanage and cast a Muggle-Repelling Charm on a two-square-meter area, in which he conjured a plush, comfortable sofa and proceeded to Disillusion it and himself.
Santi shot him an incredulous look. "You aren't planning that we spend the night here in the middle of a street, are you?"
"I have little choice," replied Julian, not too thrilled with the idea himself. "And it might be several nights, in fact."
He could see a muggle pub down the street. It would have to do for when he needed a restroom and required some sustenance, though he knew well that English food and cuisine was quite horrid. No, he wasn't looking forward to the experience.
"It won't, thankfully," muttered Santi under his breath, as he took a seat on the sofa.
"Hmm?" said Julian distractedly, turning his head around to face him again.
It was quite a tedious night, since Santi refused to say anything about the Parselmouth boys, nothing stirred in the orphanage, and muggle passersby were very boring to observe. So Julian could only entertain himself with a book he had already read several times and ended up dozing off and quickly falling asleep.
The following morning he was awakened by a cacophony of excited, shouting voices, travel trunks being dragged, and a large motorwagon blaring its horn.
"What's happening?" said Julian worriedly as he watched the activity coming from the orphanage and spilling into the street, making him instantly rise to his feet, alert.
Santi didn't answer him, since he was observing the proceedings with an amused look on his face.
The driver of the motorwagon, a rather handsome muggle, was helping two women to load trunks to the vehicle, whilst a flock of girls and boys of all ages were running in and out of the house, carrying things with them, yapping, shouting, and jumping with joy and anticipation.
It was quite a disorderly chaos, though the strictest looking of the women made short work of it and soon had the children inside the motorwagon, still and silent, though their faces still expressed their happiness.
Clearly they were having a trip of some sort, and Julian could only exhale with relief when he didn't catch sight of the face he had seen in Konrad Von Krauss' memory.
When they all seemed about to leave, the handsome muggle halted before opening the driver's door of the muggle contraption, as he took a backward look at his passengers and frowned. "Where are the boys, Alice?"
"Harry has a terrible stomach ache, poor dear," replied a rather pretty young woman who was seated at the front of the vehicle, besides the strict-looking one. "Tom is staying with him and Magda will watch over them."
"Old John will be disappointed," remarked the muggle man, not looking too happy himself as he entered the motorwagon and took the driver's seat. "He rather enjoys Harry's company."
"I know, Robert," said the woman sympathetically. "But he'll see him next year."
Having heard the names, Julian stared. Robert and Alice could only be the Robert Hutchins and Alice Jones of Konrad's report. 'Tom', since Julian hadn't seen the boy amongst the others, clearly was Tom Riddle, the target of his mission. But the other name…
As he watched the motorwagon drive away, Julian spun around, seething and furious, and spat, "Our Harry is here? You let him be raised in a muggle orphanage?"
Santi quirked an eyebrow at him, and retorted coolly, "Surely you must have realized. You were there when Sybilla said-"
"I didn't make the connection until now!" snapped Julian angrily. "I remember she said that the boy was already in the orphanage – but I didn't think she meant a muggle one!"
"How many wizarding orphanages do you know of?" demanded Santi pointedly.
"I've never stopped to consider the matter," bit out Julian crossly. "I assumed he was in a magical one! I assumed there had to be something of the sort here in England."
"The location alone of their flames in The Globe should have made you realize that Harry was in a muggle neighborhood-"
"What?" snapped Julian, frowning. "Their flames? You mean Harry's flame in The Globe?" He shook his head. "How was I supposed to know-"
"Grindelwald looks at their flames often," interjected Santi impatiently. "Surely that made you see their flames as well-"
"I never look," interrupted Julian in a whisper, before he lifted his head up to glower at him, his voice gaining force, "When I'm in Gellert's office, I never look at it. I don't like the reminder of what it means for me."
Santi snapped his mouth shut at that, and looked at him with sympathy and compassion, as he said quietly, "I understand."
Julian heaved a deep breath, before he frowned and gestured briskly at the shabby orphanage. "How could you have let him be raised by muggles? In such environment! To not know he's a wizard, to be surely confused and –"
"I hardly had anything to do with it," said Santi stiffly, a hard expression on his face. "You have your beloved Gellert to thank for that."
Julian frowned, before he narrowed his eyes and demanded curtly, "Explain yourself."
"What do you think the incantation Grindelwald used when he doused Harry with the Sands of Time was for?" said Santi tiredly. "It served to guide and control the time-traveling. To fix the number of years, months, days, down to the last hour, that Harry was to travel into the past. And to fix the precise location in which he had to appear." He pointed a finger at the doorstep of the orphanage. "Right there."
Julian glanced at the site, before he shook his head confusedly. "I don't understand. Why did Gellert want Harry to be in this orphanage?"
"Because here's where Tom Riddle was born," replied Santi calmly, "and raised."
"What does the object of my mission have to do with anything?" said Julian exasperatedly. "He's just some muggleborn-"
"He's not."
Julian shot him a disbelieving glance and said matter-of-factly, "If he was born in a muggle orphanage, he can only be a muggleborn. It's the only explanation possible."
"The story of how it came to happen matters little," interjected Santi dismissively. "Just know that Gellert wanted them to be raised together, and so they were, since they were told by the caregivers that they're fraternal twins." He paused, before he added musingly, "Though I gather that Tom must have found out the truth by now."
Julian stared at him, utterly befuddled. But before he had the chance to ask another question, the front door of the orphanage was opened, capturing his attention.
He instantly recognized the first boy that surreptitiously slipped out into the street.
He looked exactly the same as in Konrad's memory: quite a handsome boy of aristocratic features, silky black hair perfectly combed and neatly arranged, dark blue eyes that looked too serious, and with a solemn, adult-like demeanor, though in this instance, he wore an expression of annoyance, as if the boy regretted not being someplace else.
The other boy that came barreling right behind him, bubbling with excitement, was much different, and Julian felt all air leaving his lungs in a whoosh of exhalation.
He couldn't peel his eyes away. All his life he had heard about this boy, and dreamed and imagined what he would look like. It felt surreal now that he finally saw the boy in the flesh.
Julian drank him in, noticing that Santi's description had been sorely lacking. There was the lightning bolt-shaped scar on the forehead, and the green eyes, yet he hadn't expected their beautiful shape and shade, nor the rather hideous, rounded eyeglasses that covered them.
The little boy was very good-looking, but what drew the eye the most was the good-natured, cheerful, and carefree air about him, and the mischievous, impish grin on his face, as if he had just gotten his own way. All in all, it made him look rather adorable.
"Eins," Julian finally breathed out, as he kept staring. And at his own words, he suddenly felt a powerful surge of apprehension, grief, and regret, along with an abrupt constriction on his chest.
"One?"
Julian peeled his gaze away from Harry and glanced back at Santi. "Yes, one." He sighed deeply, before he added in a low murmur, "When I was eight years old, you told me I would never come to know Harry, but that I would see him twice - just twice. I never forgot." His gaze swiveled back to the boy that was making his way down the street. "This is one. The first time. And there will only be one other. My time is running short."
Santi said nothing to that, and Julian was grateful for it.
Without another word, he was quick to vanish the disillusioned and conjured sofa, and dispel the Muggle-Repelling Charm. With a last flick of his wand, he cancelled the disillusion on himself and quickly proceeded to follow the boys with book in hand, maintaining the required distance as to not be noticed.
When the two boys hopped into the monstrosity that muggle Londoners seemed so fond of, Julian ripped a couple of hairs from his head and quickly transfigured them into pennies, thus paying his fare and climbing into the double-decker bus.
He followed them all through their meanderings, his eyes fixed on Harry, until they discovered the Leaky Cauldron and finally entered Diagon Alley. There, Julian instantly transfigured back his clothes into plain robes, though he kept the glamours on his face.
It was Harry's expressions that he enjoyed the most, as the boy's green eyes widened and sparkled with awed fascination and wonder, keeping a constant jubilant chatter, as his gaze snapped from window display to window display.
"He reminds me of you at that age," said Santi softly, his expression wistful while he glided along Julian's side as they both trailed after the boys.
At that, Julian shot him a wry look. "When I was innocent, unspoiled, and untainted, you mean?"
"Yes," replied Santi bluntly, yet with a hint of remorse in his voice.
"And for how long will he remain thus, do you think?" retorted Julian, feeling a frisson of sadness. He sighed heavily. "It's not right." He briefly glanced at Santi as he added quietly, "I understand your reasons for letting Gellert use the Sands of Time on him and thus make him his tool, but it's still not right."
They fell silent after that, both simply gazing at Harry and basking in the boy's reactions as he discovered the Magical World.
It was when the boys entered Flourish and Blott's that Julian knew it was the perfect opportunity to execute his mission. However, with book in hand, he hesitated.
"You must do it," said Santi sharply, as they stood at one side of the entrance of the store.
Julian clenched his jaw and glowered at him. "To let an innocent boy read such dangerous information?"
"Tom Riddle doesn't have an innocent bone in his body," scoffed out Santi tartly.
Julian frowned at that, before he glanced at the aforementioned boy through the windows of the shop, who was absorbed with some book whilst Harry kept glancing outside, clearly longing to explore all the other stores.
"I don't know what kind of person he is," said Julian shortly, glancing back at Santi. "But he's still just a child, and the information Gellert wants him to read is extremely harmful if employed."
Santi clucked his tongue with dissatisfaction, before he eyed Julian with a considering expression on his face. "You once asked me what Grindelwald had seen in Sybilla Spyros' memories."
"I know he saw himself using the Sands of Time on –"
"Yes," interrupted Santi quickly, "but before finding that memory, he had spent many years studying the innumerable others. There were two, in particular, which helped him understand what it all meant."
Julian stared at him, deeply intrigued. "Go on."
"In one memory," said Santi quietly, "he saw himself, imprisoned in Nurmengard-"
"What?" choked out Julian, utterly taken aback. "You must be joking-"
"I'm not," snapped Santi impatiently, before he chuckled with much amusement. "Oh, believe me, Grindelwald was quite enraged when he saw that. He, the Dark Lord, being a prisoner in his own Tower! How dare them!"
As Santi chortled, Julian shook his head slowly, feeling a sudden piercing pain in his chest as he whispered, "So it means he was defeated?"
Santi observed him with narrowed eyes, and said gruffly, "I hope you're not feeling sorrow for him." Then he waved his hand dismissively. "Never mind. As I was saying, he saw himself, old and shrunken, in a small cell at the top of the Tower, but with a guest. A wizard who broke in and declared himself to be Lord Voldemort, demanding to know where Grindelwald's wand was-"
"Gellert's wand?" interrupted Julian, bewildered. "Why would another wizard want-"
"That's not relevant to the issue at hand," said Santi with exasperation. "The importance of the memory resides in the characteristics of the wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort - with snake-like features and red eyes."
"Red eyes," murmured Julian under his breath, frowning. "I've read about that. Allegedly, it happens to wizards who delve too deeply into certain Dark Arts which cause them to lose part of their humanity." He shot Santi a perplexed glance. "I don't understand."
"Let me continue, and you will," interjected Santi shortly. "In that memory, Grindelwald refused to give Lord Voldemort the information about the location of his wand and Voldemort killed him."
Gellert killed. Julian froze, and then took a shuddering inhalation of breath, but didn't interrupt.
"In the other memory," continued Santi swiftly, "he saw himself, looking as old as in the first one, yet free. With a disfigured face shrouded by a grey cloak, having a meeting with another wizard, who was referred by others as Lord Slytherin. This wizard was handsome, young, and yet, from time to time, his eyes would flash red when his temper arose. After seeing that, Grindelwald realized that he was seeing memories of two different futures, and that Lord Voldemort and Lord Slytherin was the same wizard, who had turned out differently due to having different pasts-"
"And then Gellert saw the memory of him using the Sands of Time on a baby," breathed out Julian as understanding dawned on him, "and he knew he could create that different timeline, where he isn't killed in a cell in his tower but free and alive, in the company of this 'Lord Slytherin'..."
He trailed off, frowning. "Red eyes." He glanced down at the book in his hands, his eyes widening, as he whispered, "Horcruxes. Lord Slytherin with red eyes. Parselmouth boys." His gaze snapped to see the boy inside Flourish and Blott's, as he gasped out, shocked, "Tom Riddle?"
"Yes," said Santi with much satisfaction. "He is truly a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. And he's the one who becomes Lord Voldemort in the original timeline, and Lord Slytherin in this one. No fool, Grindelwald came to the rather wise conclusion that if he had to deal with another Dark Lord as a rival, he preferred one who was sane and could thus be controlled and manipulated."
"But if Tom Riddle comes to have red eyes," said Julian apprehensively. "It means he will make horcruxes-"
"Don't you understand?" interrupted Santi impatiently. "Grindelwald is not going to let him make horcruxes. He doesn't want him insane and thus uncontrollable. He has already told his spy at Hogwarts to destroy the copy of that book. Tom will never find it in the Restricted Section. Your mission's true purpose is to wet Tom's appetite for immortality, to let the boy know that it is possible."
Julian shook his head uncomprehendingly. "But you said Lord Slytherin's eyes flashed red in the memory. So he must've made-"
"Just one," said Santi shortly. "Inevitably, he must create one horcrux, the same one Lord Voldemort made accidentally and unwittingly, and which Lord Slytherin will make on purpose."
Julian frowned at that, but before he could ask, Santi continued swiftly, "Whether as Lord Voldemort or Lord Slytherin, Tom Riddle has two weaknesses: his unquenchable hunger for power and his deep-rooted fear of death. Grindelwald will exploit both in order to manipulate him. He'll use the first weakness by presenting himself to Tom as a mentor and later as an ally, supposedly. The second, by offering Tom another means in which to attain immortality."
He pinned Julian with piercing gaze, as he added, "Grindelwald will demand much in return, of course. But he's well aware that this Tom Riddle who'll become Lord Slytherin has a third weakness he didn't as Lord Voldermort. The only attachment he has ever formed towards another human being. Harry. That's why Grindelwald wanted them to be raised together."
"That's what Harry's role will be in all of this?" demanded Julian suspiciously. "To be used by Gellert to pull Tom Riddle's strings?"
"Harry's roles will be many," replied Santi tersely. "As you know, he's-"
"Yes, yes," snapped Julian impatiently. "I mean besides being used to create this timeline. Is Gellert interested in Harry for any other reason?" He suddenly frowned. "Konrad said both boys were Parselmouths." He eyed Santi searchingly. "I don't understand how it's possible. But if you say Riddle is truly a Slytherin and thus a Parselmouth, then Konrad is right and Harry is a Parselmouth too? How?"
"That's a topic for some other day," said Santi hurriedly, as he gestured at the book in Julian's hands. "You must act now before it's too late."
With his fingers tightening around the book, Julian demanded harshly, "Are you sure I'll not be the cause for that boy to make horcruxes, besides the one you say is necessary?"
"Yes," replied Santi with exasperation. "This Tom Riddle will not discover how horcruxes are made when he's young. It will be Grindelwald who will tell him how, many years from now."
"Very well, then," said Julian with a sigh, before he yanked open the door of the store and slipped inside.
It was very easy. A Disillusioning Charm cast on himself. Place the book on the floor, right in front of Tom Riddle's feet while the boy was focused in reading some other tome, leaving the book opened in the chapter regarding Lord Horkos. Giving the boy time to see it and grab it.
And precisely when Tom Riddle reached the page Gellert had told him, stand behind the boy, towering over him, so that his presence was felt. Tom Riddle turned around, frowning, without being able to see a disillusioned Julian, and then, with a flick of his wand, the book was vanished from the boy's hands.
Yet, as Julian started to make his way out of the bookstore, he paused for a moment, gazing at Harry, who was still yearningly looking at the bustle and activity outside, through the windows of the shop.
Right then, Julian felt the inexplicable urgent need to grab the little boy and whisk him away. To protect him, to spare him much, perhaps? Julian didn't quite know, but he hesitated for a moment, trembling with the urge, whilst he seriously considered the possibilities.
"Let's go," said Santi, his milky gaze flickering from Julian to Harry and back, to end up frowning at Julian.
Jerked out of his thoughts, Julian peeled his eyes away from the little boy, and sighed. "Yes. Let's."
As they left Diagon Alley, Julian whispered to himself the reminder, grim and sorrowful, "Eins."
He didn't like German, decided Harry as he scowled down at the picture of the blue-eyed, blonde woman who had just chided him for his "terrible, horrifying pronunciation! Do make an effort, boy!"
"I am!" snapped Harry at the book, extremely peeved.
He was in a very bad mood that day.
It was Sunday, there were no classes, and there he was, lying against the trunk of a tree with book on lap, wrapped up in one of Tom's Slytherin scarves he had stolen, because for some reason his brother's scarves always felt softer and warmer.
He was before a lovely view of the frozen Black Lake that was being taken full advantage of by a group of Hufflepuffs that were having the time of their lives by skidding and sliding along the ice.
Another group of students, not far away, were playing with the snow that beautifully covered the grounds of Hogwarts, throwing snowballs at each other and even making a snowman.
A snowman! Harry sniffed with envy. Everyone was having fun, and in the meanwhile, he was stuck with learning German, because if he didn't, Tom would know.
His brother always tested him, and if Harry couldn't convincingly prove he was indeed studying, then Tom refused to tutor him in the two classes he was still having trouble with: Potions and Transfigurations.
Not only that, but Christmas Holidays were in two weeks and Tom had already 'informed' him, in a rather high-handed manner, that they were going to stay put.
The last thing his brother wanted was to return to the orphanage, and Tom was going to approach Headmaster Dippet to ask for permission to stay at Hogwarts.
Harry had never felt so angered and indignant in his life. He missed Alice and his friends and he had been looking forward to seeing them. Christmas was his favorite holiday and it was always spent with much fun in the orphanage, in his opinion.
Thus, first, he had attempted to convince his brother with pouts, big, teary eyes, sniffles, and whimpering, wheedling tones. When that didn't work –and Harry had been a bit stumped, because he could usually soften Tom up when he employed such tactics- he had ended up having a heated match of shouts and yells in the middle of the common room.
Nothing good came out of that, since they could both be as impossibly stubborn, and Tom had been furious with him for being the reason they caused a 'scene' before their housemates.
Furthermore, he couldn't even ditch German in order to play with his friends because they were all busy with other stuff.
Algie Longbottom's older sister, the rather serious, strict-looking Augusta, had become engaged to their cousin Francis Longbottom. The girl was over the moon –the first time Harry had ever seen her even smiling- and the Gryffindors were throwing her a party in their Tower, so Felix and Felicity were unavailable.
The twins had invited him over, but Harry knew he wouldn't be welcomed by their housemates – Halloween had proved that. So he preferred to spare himself the trouble and stay far away from the Gryff's Tower that day.
And then, Alphard was busy with his siblings, aunt, and cousins, because they were 'managing a family crisis'.
Earlier in the day, during breakfast in the Great Hall, whilst Augusta Longbottom made her announcement at the Gryffindors' Table to be received by much cheer from that rambunctious, loud lot, the Blacks at the Slytherins' Table were receiving letters by owls, all at the same time.
When they read the missives, their reactions were plenty: beautiful Lucretia had her mouth hanging open, her handsome brother Orion flushed with rage, Alphard choked on his sniggers, his older brother Cygnus lost all color on his face, and their sister Walburga…
Well, Walburga trembled, her face contorted, and she screeched at the top of her lungs with roaring fury, "HOW DARE SHE!"
Heads snapped around at that, students of other houses staring at the girl with surprise and gossipy curiosity.
Outside of the common room and especially in the Great Hall, Slytherins always comported themselves with much decorum and solemnity, so an outburst like Walburga's was indeed rare. Though when it happened, it always seemed to be Walburga.
Dorea Black, the only one who had just flinched when reading her letter, had immediately stood up, reached her niece, and hissed out commandingly, "Not here. We'll all discuss this later."
For once, Walburga instantly obeyed, though it was clear it took her great effort to rein in her temper in order to proceed with her breakfast quietly. All the Blacks did that, staying for the full duration of the breakfast as if nothing had ever happened, before they silently rose up as one and followed Dorea's lead out of the Great Hall and into the dungeons.
Harry didn't find out what had happened until Alphard made a hand sign to meet him in the kitchens.
As they skipped the Great Hall and partook of their lunch amidst the solicitous house-elves, his secret friend explained the situation to him.
"We received news that my father's cousin, Cedrella Black, eloped," said Alphard chuckling and looking highly cheerful. "I'm glad for her, really. Besides Dorea, she was my favorite relative –always gave me candies and fun toys and she told the funniest jokes!"
Grinning, the boy popped a potato chip into his mouth. After crunching it down, he piped in, "She's been a spinster for ages. She's around fifty, so we all thought she was going to die an old maid." His grey eyes sparkled. "But at last she did it! She's been in love with Septimus Weasley since their days at Hogwarts, but was never allowed to accept his courtship. And now, they escaped, went to Gretna Green and got married in a muggle church, with priest and all!"
Alphard chortled happily. "The Black Sheep Curse strikes again! See what I mean?" He then shook his head and added with exasperation, "I don't know why no one believes my theory. How much more proof do they need? Really!"
Bemused, Harry kept staring at the boy in silence, remembering the tidbits he knew about the Weasleys. Not much. From Alphard, he knew that family always had loads of children without any fertility problems like the rest. And from the Prewett twins, he knew they were weird and had a Leprechaun somewhere down their line, which apparently explained their weirdness.
"I will miss her, though," said Alphard suddenly, his voice small and sad.
"Miss her?" interjected Harry, frowning. Then he rolled his eyes. "It can't be that bad. It's not like she died."
Alphard shook his head. "It's even worse than if she had died, at least for the rest of the family. Father has already struck her out from the family tree and records and left her knutless. She cannot even use the Black surname anymore, not legally, at least."
Baffled, Harry pointed out, "But the Weasleys are purebloods, aren't they? So why is it so bad that she married one? Is it because they're light wizards?"
"Oh no, that wouldn't have mattered so much," replied Alphard with a wave of his hand. "It's because they're considered bloodtraitors – they've always liked muggles and muggleborns and are quite open with their views. And it's because they lost all their prestige and respect when they lost their fortune."
Harry scowled, feeling directly insulted. "So just for being poor-"
"It's because of the way they lost their fortune," interrupted Alphard quickly, seeing Harry's expression. "They weren't rich, but Septimus' father did have a respectable amount of galleons in his vaults, from what I've heard." He shook his head disparagingly. "But Weasleys have always been very strange. The wizard apparently thought that muggles were very funny and inventive and some years ago, when muggles invented that thing…" He trailed off, his face scrunching up with effort. "That thing they use because they can't cast Lumos Spells… eclec- eclectitty-"
"Electricity?" prompted Harry, blinking.
"Yes!" breathed out Alphard, looking relieved. "And then they made those things that look like upside-down pears made of glass…"
"Light bulbs?" said Harry, now chuckling in amusement.
Alphard stared at him, as he said uncertainly, "Hmm, yes, I suppose that's their name." He heaved a sigh. "Well, it seems that Septimus' dad thought it was the brightest of ideas for the Wizarding World as well." He rolled his eyes. "What do we need those bulbs for when we already have candles and spells?"
He shook his head disparagingly. "Anyway. The wizard invested all his galleons in those houses that muggle have in which they make stuff, and he bought those things that make other things."
Completely lost for a moment, Harry tried to fathom what the other boy was talking about.
"Oh!" he said at last. "You mean he bought a factory and machinery to make light bulbs?"
"Yes, that," said Alphard, shooting him a look as if Harry was slow of understanding and his explanation had been as clear as crystal. "So for starters, purebloods like my parents were angered because the wizard had invested in the Muggle World. It's something simply not done, you know? Purebloods like to keep wealth in the Wizarding World and not give it to the muggles."
The boy paused, a pensive expression spreading on his face. "I suppose it wouldn't have been that bad if the wizard's business had been a success and he brought back money into the Wizarding World. But it was a catastrophe. Apparently, he discovered that eclectrity and magic don't work well together. So his bulbs were useless in our world. But then he decided to adapt the bulbs so that they could work just with magic."
Alphard snorted loudly. "That didn't go well. He experimented and blew himself up. Not even the house where the bulbs were made or the things that made other things were left. So Septimus was left without a father and poor. And the family name was left in the mud."
After that rather bemusing explanation, Alphard had to leave, because the Blacks were having a meeting to discuss how they would 'confront the humiliating situation' of Cedrella's elopement with a Weasley and decide how they would present a solemn, united front against the 'ridicule, scorn, and derision' from other dark purebloods.
It was a grave family crisis that had to be quickly dealt with, apparently.
And given that Tom was entrenched in the library as usual, Harry was left all by his lonesome, with just a nasty, pushy book for company.
"Let's try again!" snapped the pretty witch of the picture, her hair by now looking frizzy and her expression frazzled and tetchy. "Where is the nearest Floo connection? Repeat after me. Wo ist die nächste Flooverbindung?"
Harry sighed, before he mumbled, "Woe is dye nachta Flooberdung?"
"No! No!" bellowed the witch, yanking her hair. "Wo ist die nächste Flooverbindung!"
Glowering at her with all the power of his frustration, Harry yelled back, "I'm saying it right, you hag! Woe is dye nachta Flooberdung!"
"Is that atrocious German I'm hearing?" said a lilting, drawling voice.
Harry snapped his head around and glared at Abraxas Malfoy, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere and was now standing besides Harry's tree, looking down at him with an expression of disdainful amusement.
"Sod off, Malfoy!" bit out Harry, slamming his book shut.
He hadn't crossed words with Abraxas Malfoy since the Hogwarts Express. It was certainly the first time the boy talked to him or even approached him. But Malfoy simply rubbed him the wrong way, especially because Harry would sometimes stare at him from a distance, feeling funny and a bit entranced, and Felix Prewett was always taunting him about it. And to add insult to injury, Abraxas Malfoy was always intensely observing him too, but as if waiting for Harry to grow horns or something.
"Sod off?" drawled Abraxas as if tasting the words in his mouth. "No one has told me before to 'sod off', as you so eloquently put it. I get the gist of it, though." His lips curled upwards in sheer disgust. "A muggle expression, is it not?"
"Yeah, and I've got plenty more for you," growled Harry. "Bugger off, piss off, go take a hike and get lost, stuff it and leave me the hell alone, stick it up yours and-"
"I'm attempting to carry a conversation with you, Riddle," interrupted Abraxas, darkly glaring at him. "You do know what that is, yes? What civilized wizards do from time to time? Rings any bells?"
Harry scowled with deep irritation. "What the hell do you want?"
Abraxas arched a pale eyebrow at him, his silver eyes briefly glancing at Harry's book, as he asked coolly, "Why are you learning German?"
"None of your bloody business," said Harry gruffly, as he rose to his feet. He scowled, highly miffed, when he saw that Abraxas towered over him. He shot the boy a glower and snapped, "Is that all? You can leave now."
Seeing that Abraxas didn't move and kept staring at him with puzzled, narrowed eyes, Harry huffed and started to move away.
He was suddenly forcefully grabbed by the arm and pulled back, and he swirled around, trying to shake himself free as he yelled, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Let go, Malfoy!"
Abraxas stared down at the arm he was tightly clutching, frowning. "You're solid."
Harry blinked, gobsmacked. "Solid?" He then snorted loudly. "Of course I'm bloody solid! That's my arm you're grabbing. What's the matter with you?"
Looking thoroughly confused, Abraxas gazed down at him. "What are you then?" He frowned. "A golem?"
"A what?" Harry stared at the boy, nonplussed.
"Don't play dumb!" hissed out Abraxas impatiently. "I saw how the Bloody Baron touched you and he didn't go through! And I know you're working for the Dark Lord!"
"I'm working for…" Harry's mouth dropped open. Then he shook his head and scoffed, "You've gone mental, Malfoy."
"Don't lie to me, golem!" spit out Abraxas in a frosty, sharp tone. "I want to know what you're doing for the Dark Lord."
Harry shot him an angry, exasperated look. "I'm not a bloody golem – whatever that is!"
Abraxas frowned deeply and then pinched the arm he was holding and twisted the flesh, hard.
"Ouch – that hurt, you bastard!" bellowed Harry furiously, shoving the boy away and finally gaining his freedom.
He didn't waste a second in whirling around and breaking into a run.
"Stop right there or I'll tell everyone you're looking for the Chamber of Secrets!"
Harry choked, skidded to a halt, and slowly turned around to stare at Malfoy with wide eyes.
"What?" he croaked out faintly.
Abraxas smirked, looking triumphant as he coolly sauntered towards him, his silver eyes glinting. "Yes, I do know that much, at least. The Dark Lord wants you to find it and open it, doesn't he?" He cocked his head to a side, a thoughtful expression spreading on his ethereally handsome face. "And then what? Does he believe the legends about the monster?"
Recovered from his shock, Harry bit out crossly, "For the last time, I don't work for the Dark Lord. And I'm not that golem thingy. I'm just a person!" He huffed. "And I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not looking for any chambers-"
"Please, don't insult my intelligence," sneered Abraxas incensed. "After that rather pathetic display of hissing like an idiot at the furniture in the common room, I've seen you searching the school up and down-"
"You're the one who has been following me around!" gasped out Harry, jolted, before he pointed an accusing finger at him and spat with indignant fury, "Stop spying on me, Malfoy, or I'll-"
"Or you'll what?" interjected Abraxas loftily. "I can do whatever I please. And I want to know what the Dark Lord has asked you to do."
"I've got nothing to do with any Dark Lords!" snapped Harry, vexed beyond endurance.
Abraxas' silver eyes narrowed, as he demanded, "Then explain how come my grandfather was ready to get you expelled from Hogwarts and he didn't because he received a letter from the Dark Lord."
Stiffening for an instant, Harry then relaxed and shook his head, blinking at the other boy dumbly. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You do," insisted Abraxas, his gaze sharp and suspicious. He paused, his eyes travelling over Harry's body, before he frowned and said slowly, "Very well. If you're not working for the Dark Lord, prove you're not a golem."
"I don't even know what a golem is," said Harry with exasperation. "So how do I do that?"
"It's simple," said Abraxas stoically. "I came prepared."
He pulled something shiny and silver from his school robes' pocket and presented it to him.
Harry automatically grabbed it and then stared down, seeing a small, sharp dagger. He snapped his gaze up to the to other boy's face, his eyes wide, as he asked warily, "What do you expect me to do with this?"
"Make a cut on the palm of your hand."
Harry shook his head. "This is stupid. If I wasn't a person I wouldn't have a brother, would I?" He shot him an irritated look and added dryly, "Haven't you seen Tom around?"
"Tom is not your brother," scoffed out Abraxas. "You look nothing alike."
"That's because we're fraternal twins, you idiot!" bit out Harry churlishly.
Unimpressed and clearly unconvinced, Abraxas said curtly, "Cut and prove you're just a boy."
"Fine," gritted out Harry, briskly holding the dagger and sliding its tip through the palm of his left hand, his jaw clenching in pain. "There. Satisfied?"
Abraxas harshly grabbed his hand and yanked it upwards to inspect it closely. He dragged a fingertip across the wound, making Harry hiss under his breath, and then collected trickles of blood on his finger pads, rubbing them together as if to feel the texture of Harry's blood.
In the next moment, he dropped Harry's hand and plucked the dagger from Harry's hold, pocketing it back as he frowned. "You're just a person." Abraxas skewered him with his silver eyes. "Then you're no mudblood and neither is Tom, if he's really your twin. And if so, you're both Parselmouths."
Harry froze for a split second before he let out a loud guffaw. "You're bonkers! We wish!"
"You are," said Abraxas sternly. "That morning, when the whole House found you hissing at things in the common room, I thought what everyone else did – that you were just deplorably attempting to imitate the hisses of a snake. But I've heard you hissing when you go around inspecting classrooms at night." He shook his head musingly. "You wouldn't keep doing it unless you could really speak Parseltongue. And I don't really know what a Parselmouth sounds like, so I realize that you could be one."
"I'm telling you, I'm not," said Harry vehemently as he scowled at the boy.
Abraxas suddenly smirked at him. "You are. It's the only explanation of why the Dark Lord might be interested in you – why he stopped my grandfather from kicking you out from Hogwarts."
The moment Harry opened his mouth to speak again, Abraxas swiftly raised a hand, as he drawled placidly in his lilting voice, "I never thought Tom was anything but a person, because I've seen ghosts go through him. And I've observed him and know his type." His lips twisted with snide disdain. "After seeing how he has dealt with the Slytherins and students of other houses, it's clear. He's nothing but an uppity social-climber that has ideas above his station and thinks that being intelligent and good at the Dark Arts, as he proved to be when he attacked Walburga Black with a dark curse none of us knows, is enough to make others bend to his will."
He waved a hand dismissively. "Like him, I've seen plenty." He pinned Harry with his gaze, his lips quirking upwards, as he added, "Like you, though, I have not." He cocked his head to a side. "And yet you're both Parselmouths and don't want anyone to know. I would have expected for Tom to reveal his ability to make others fawn over him. Evidently, you're keeping it a secret because you have some other agenda." He arched a pale eyebrow. "Perhaps you're waiting to find the Chamber of Secrets, so that it would prove you're Parselmouths, hmm?"
"You're mad," snapped Harry briskly. "Nothing of what you said is true. You're way off." He fiercely scowled at him. "And don't say things like that about my brother! He's worth ten of you-"
"Hardly," scoffed Abraxas. "Even if he's a Parselmouth, his lowly upbringing shines through. He comes from muggle slums." He shot him a sneer. "Just like you. And given your surname, you can be nothing if not halfbloods."
Harry bristled with fury at the insults, but Abraxas cut him short as he snapped, "Save it." He pierced him with hard, silver eyes as he added in a low, slow voice, "If you want me to keep my mouth shut about the things I know about you, you'll not mention this conversation to anyone, not even your brother." His eyes narrowed to mere slits, as he added sharply, "And when I come around wanting to talk to you, you'll behave civilly and respond in kind. Do I make myself clear?"
With eyes widening for a moment at the threat, Harry then glowered hatefully at the boy, his shoulders tense and stiff as he spat acidly, "Yes."
"Tut-tut," said Abraxas, shaking his head mournfully. "That was not a civil tone of voice. Try again."
Harry's hands clenched into fists, trembling with rage, as he gritted out, "Yes."
Abraxas chidingly clucked his tongue. "Not good enough. Say it gently. And no glaring."
Harry hissed under his breath, before he took a deep breath and reined in his temper. He relaxed his shoulders, stared back at the boy, and muttered quietly, "Yes."
Abraxas smirked widely, his silver eyes sparkling as he intoned softly, "Good boy."
At with that, he calmly turned around and sauntered back to the castle, leaving Harry shaking with fury.