Mutant Son

Warnings: Slash (not graphic). Strong Language and Suggestive Content. Crossover. Remember, takes some from DH but mostly non-compliant. Dark, rated M for a reason.

A.N. For those of you who haven't seen, I wrote a short prequel to this, a one-shot called A Small Small World. Go check it out if you wonder how the meeting between Xavier and Dumbledore went. For this chapter, I am making no attempts at getting Hagrid's speech right because I'd probably do a terrible job. I'm sure everyone can imagine how he speaks. Also, I'm portraying Snape more favorable than I view him. In my opinion, Snape wasn't evil but he was still a bad guy. His motives were always selfish and what kind of man takes out his hatred on an eleven year old child? But for some strange reason, I feel like Snape may find John amusing, if not tiresome as well. One note on Pyro's strength. I'm sure, practically, Pyro probably wouldn't have the power to basically incinerate a body but here he does. It's convenient. Also, a sort of treat at the end.

Chapter 37: Birthright

John was wandering around the castle. He wished he could say he was bored but there was too much running around his head to be bored. Nothing good. He hadn't slept more than a few hours in days, choosing to sit outside by the lake most nights despite the snow. The nightmares were back, the ones he had been having ever since he could remember and new ones. He knew he looked horrible. That was the one thing he couldn't control by acting.

Tonight it wasn't the nightmares that kept him up. Hours earlier he may have made a mistake that would ruin everything he had been working for. What he had given up Harry for. What he had…no one thing at a time. He couldn't think about that now. Snape had made John attend a sixth year Defense Against the Dark Arts class with the female Carrow. Really, they should've just been honest and renamed the class 'Dark Arts'.

When Ginny Weasley had refused to practice some sort of torture spell on a first year, Carrow had ordered John to show the class what torture was all about. John stared at the child for a moment. He couldn't do that, not even for a cover. So John placed all his bets on the fact that having faults would make him more believable. He told Carrow to go fuck herself, that he didn't torture children. John hadn't liked the look she sent him.

"The Dark Lord wants you to show what you're capable of," she told him, holding back a grin. She wanted to bring him down for who knew what reason. He was no threat to her. Until, of course, she said that.

John had grinned at her and promptly lit her on fire. The class jumped back, many horrified, some confused. He put the fire out after a few seconds of her screaming. That felt good. It really shouldn't have.

"I think that shows what I'm capable of, doesn't it?" he asked. "I don't torture children. Everyone here: they're school children." He knelt over her. "You think you're a big man—woman—for having power over a school full of kids. Congratulations, you've reached new heights of pathetic." He glanced over at the students again. Ginny met his eyes, evaluating him. He really hoped she didn't go and agree with her brother. He needed one of them to keep hating him. "I think this bitch may need the nurse. I hear magic does wonders for burns." He stared directly at Ginny for a moment before dismissing her. He did hate her if not in the way he hated people like Carrow. He hated her because she had Harry first. John smirked as she nodded cautiously before leaving.

John reached the Great Hall. Looked like he'd be spending another night in the snow. There was no Bobby to calm him down. No Harry to keep him calm. He made his way to the lake. Forming a flame, he let it spread over the icy lake, watching as it melted. Bobby and he sometimes did this in the winter. He would try to melt the pond while Bobby tried to keep it iced over, usually because Bobby was ice skating and John found him falling through the ice incredibly funny. He let the fire lap at the ice like waves. Soothing.

Fire didn't always mean pain and death. Sometimes it was just beautiful. But whatever higher power out there that gave him control over fire must've either not been thinking or had a sick sense of humor. Fire in his hands was dangerous. He had enjoyed that woman's screams.

"Pyro," a gruff voice acknowledged. John looked over. The giant Hagrid. He had seen him only a handful of times as the man had generally been delegated to his hut and the grounds. His proper place apparently.

"Nice coat," he responded, eying the scraggly fur trench coat of sorts which somehow seemed to match Hagrid's beard.

Hagrid ignored his comment. "It true?" he asked, standing over John. The man really was rather large, though apparently nothing compared to full-blooded giants. John felt small, weak. But he refused to stand, to show that he was nervous. He had his fire which was still slowly melting the lake.

"Gotta be more specific than that, man." John made like he was focused on the fire but he kept an eye on Hagrid. Harry had described him as gentle but he had also acknowledged that the man would viciously fight for someone he cared about. John didn't care what the situation was, as long as the man was capable of hurting him, he was going to be wary.

"You and Harry?" Hagrid asked. "What they said in the papers."

"Was," John responded, pulling out a cigarette, needing something to do which wouldn't look like fidgeting. "Irresolvable differences, or whatever the saying is. He wanted to save people, I wanted them to die. You can't pair the hero up with the villain."

John felt Hagrid's glare on him. "You have no idea what you did."

"Sorry I don't speak freak. Gotta translate," John took a drag from his cigarette.

"He trusted you. Must have."

John looked up at him mockingly. "I never gave him a reason to." He flicked the ash off of the cigarette. Nice controlled movements. He was already tired, already stressed. This act was taking more and more effort. How long would he last? John thought it would come natural. In a way it did, but there were other things. Seeing a child tortured, sleeping with a mad woman. Those were things that didn't come natural. Not anymore. He had changed since the streets. A few days before the attack on Knockturn Alley, John had told Harry he wouldn't be able to sleep without him. It turned out to be true. "You're boy's a fool. It'll make it easy when the time comes."

"You can't take him. He's more powerful than you," Hagrid challenged.

John grinned. "Power's nothing if you're not willing to use it. All I have to do is show him a bit of the John he knew and he'll freeze. He loves me." John laughed. Hagrid tensed. John prepared to let the fire go, just in case.

"You're just like him," Hagrid said instead. "I knew your father when he was at school. The same arrogance, he thought he was better."

John raised his eyebrows at him. "The way I hear it, my father hid who he was. He plotted for the long run." John blew out smoke. It looked almost tangible as his breath also hit the cold air. "Me? I hide nothing. I am who I am and I'm not interested in any end game."

Hagrid shook his head. "You just want to hurt, to kill."

"Bingo. Show him what he's won," John said dryly. The man made a fist. This was it. But they never got the chance to see what would happen. A four-legged figure came bounding across the grounds. John was ready to light it on fire.

"Fang, back!" Hagrid practically roared, looking at John fearfully.

As the figure got closer John realized it was just a dog. A rather large dog. He froze for just a moment, long enough for the dog to reach him. Fuck, he shouldn't have frozen. But Fang didn't bite him; he licked him. Drool caked John's face. Disgusting, but John couldn't help but let out a small smile. He had always liked dogs, the bigger the better. Not that he had ever had one. In fact, his longest interaction with a dog was with a junk yard dog that nearly bit his leg off as John jumped the fence. He still liked dogs though he tended to be wary. He had always wanted a dog. Didn't they like you no matter what?

Hagrid pulled Fang away and John quickly killed his smile, wiping his face. "That beast is nuts," John said standing. The grass next to him was smoking from his cigarette. He put it out, wiping at his face again. When he looked up, Hagrid was watching him peculiarly.

"Funny," Hagrid said curiously. "Fang's usually a good judge of character."

"Probably still smells Harry on me," John suggested, taking a step back as Fang pulled towards him again. What a time for a dog to like him. That beast was nuts. He tore his eyes away from the dog, grinning up at Hagrid. "Because, trust me, Harry was all over me." He turned and left.

The grin dropped as soon as he was facing away from Hagrid. What was with Hogwarts and blowing his cover? He really needed to get out of here. There would be a lot to make up for after the last few days. Unfortunately, that meant something more drastic than just screwing Bellatrix.

McGonagall managed to meet Hagrid in his cabin. Though her animagus form was well known, it was hard to see a cat in the dark.

"What was it that you wanted to speak about Hagrid?" she asked as she took a cup of tea from him.

"That Pyro kid," he responded, taking a gulp from his mug. Somehow she doubted it was tea he was drinking.

"What about him?" McGonagall responded, setting her cup down.

"I spoke to him a few days ago," Hagrid said. "He's one cocky kid. Bad to the bones, I thought."

"Thought?" she peered at him curiously.

Hagrid paused for a moment, looking to his bed where Fang laid fast asleep. "Since then, whenever the kid's outside, Fang's taken to following around after him. Pyro don't look too happy about it when people're watching but I've seen him when he thinks nobody ain't looking. He plays with Fang. Actually smiles."

McGonagall thought it over. What was Hagrid's point? Finally, she sighed. "It's not black and white," she told him. "Not everyone on the other side is evil. St. J—Pyro falls into the shades of grey. He always has."

"Even with Harry?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes," McGonagall nodded. "Even if Potter thought highly of him, he knew who Pyro is. Pyro's not evil. He's just a damaged child who keeps making the wrong decisions."

"But he's a child ain't he?" Hagrid responded. He took another gulp before continuing. "I don't like that it's children we're fighting."

"As far as I know, Pyro is the youngest of them." She leveled Hagrid with her best stern stare. "There is a point, Hagrid, when damaged children are no longer children. They become the men and women we fight against every day. Pyro is standing in that limbo. He had his chance. Potter gave it to him. Severus Snape made a bad decision when he wasn't much younger than Pyro. Then he was a child who didn't know what he was getting into. Today he's a loyal follower of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and a killer. Pyro has chosen that same path."

Hagrid clearly didn't like it. Frankly, McGonagall didn't like it either. Though she never truly trusted Pyro, she did like him. She liked what he could do for Potter. He made Potter smile. He made him stronger. But he was just another on the list of people she once felt responsible for whom she would have to face in the upcoming battle.

"There's something about him," Hagrid cut the silence. "Sometimes his eyes look just plain sad and he looks like he's going to pass out from exhaustion. That kid ain't no Death Eater."

It appeared that Hagrid wasn't getting the point. There were plenty of shades of grey here. Pyro was dark on the light side and light on the dark side. But she saw the terrible potential in Pyro. That sadness would turn to anger and that exhaustion would turn into madness. Pyro wasn't evil. Not yet, maybe not ever. However, he was still the enemy. He had killed before for them, he would kill for his father now. Pyro was born to bring destruction. With a power like his, how could he not have been?

Hermione watched Harry from her position going through yet another book on the Hogwarts' founders. He was staring out the window in deep thought. The determined look on his face suggested it was more than just John that he was thinking about. It was the war.

Malfoy entered the library, sending a fleeting glance at Harry. Harry didn't acknowledge him. Something happened there, though she had no clue what. Must've been weeks ago. Had Malfoy made a move on Harry? Was that what had made John so angry? She knew the insecurities that John had, insecurities he turned into new levels of jealousy. The only reason she hadn't worried about it before was because he seemed to trust Harry and always turned his anger against the offending party, so to speak.

Hermione looked at Malfoy curiously as he sat across from her. He peered at the title of her book. "I don't understand how history will help you win this war," he commented. "First Grindelwald and now the Hogwarts' founders?"

"Grindelwald didn't have anything to do with the war," she told him. Harry tensed so she dropped the subject. "What do you want?" she asked instead.

"The DA's back with the Order," he stated.

"So?"

"So, I still want in," he rolled his eyes. "Come on Granger, keep up." She glared. "Look I don't want to fight. I don't even want to be involved in most things but tell them I'm willing to help when needed."

"Why don't you speak to Harry about that?" Hermione asked. "He has more power than me." She glanced towards Harry who still ignored them. It was clear after the last two meetings that Remus and Harry were running things together now.

"It appears that his boyfriend's betrayal has limited his ability to function as a normal person," Malfoy sneered. "Never mind a leader."

The betrayal had been confirmed only a couple of days before. John was dropped off the Undesirable list and the Daily Prophet wrote a small article on how he had been rehabilitated. As if he was on the right side now. She had torn the article in pieces the moment she read it. What she disliked the most was that John was currently in Hogwarts. He knew about the Horcruxes. What if he found one? What would he do with it? Then it hit her.

"Harry," she practically whispered in horror. He finally turned towards her as Malfoy watched her. "He knows."

"What do I know?" Malfoy asked.

"Not you," Hermione responded distractedly. Harry watched her, his face intense. That's all it had been lately: sad and intense. "John, he knows about the…" She stopped before she could give it away, eying her book pointedly.

"Malfoy, leave," Harry ordered, standing.

"Wha—" Malfoy attempted to protest.

"I told you to leave," Harry said, his voice forceful. He looked at Malfoy. "If you want in, if you want to help in any way, you need to learn to follow orders. You do what I tell you." They glared each other for a few moments before Malfoy backed down, though a sneer remained on his face.

"If we didn't need you so bad, I'd offer you to the Dark Lord myself," Malfoy said, his voice filled with more hatred than Hermione had heard in years. Something definitely happened there. But nevertheless, he left.

Hermione and Harry looked at each other. "What are we going to do?" Hermione asked him, panic creeping into her voice. "If John tells You Know Who we know about the Horcruxes, he'll—"

"He won't tell," Harry interrupted. He didn't let her protest. "Hermione, he won't tell. He's still John."

Now Hermione knew Harry was in denial. He couldn't accept John's betrayal, not fully. He had to think that his John was still there even if hidden. "Harry, I know him leaving hurts but you have to acc—"

Harry interrupted again. "I know, Hermione," he said, voice intense. There was no sadness, no anger in his eyes, just determination. She felt like she was losing him to Harry Potter. "But he's still John. I understand him. He won't tell Voldemort about the Horcruxes. He's not loyal to his father. Not dedicated to him. Voldemort's just convenient. John will keep the information to himself until he can use it to his benefit. And the time to use it isn't now."

Perhaps he had a point. John was incredibly selfish. If he couldn't be loyal to Harry, he couldn't be loyal to anyone. Remus and Tonks were right. John did love Harry, but with the way John functioned, he could so easily turn that love into hate. But Harry didn't function that way. John would see that weakness and use it. He wouldn't hold back. John didn't know how to.

"Still," Hermione said, watching as Harry glanced briefly at her book. He dismissed it quickly. "We need to find these Horcruxes and soon."

"Ron will be looking for the one in Hogwarts," Harry said as he sat. He looked intensely pensive again.

"But how will he destroy it?" Hermione asked. "So far we've only had fiendfyre. I love Ron, but he doesn't have the power to control fiendfyre."

"He'll figure out a way." Harry gave her a small smile, the first she had seen in nearly two weeks. "You don't give him enough credit. Besides, all he needs is a lead. We'll see him soon."

She was about to respond when Fred came running in. "Harry. Hermione," he breathed. "Most of the Order's downstairs. We have news…Pyro."

They didn't need to be told twice, practically flying to the drawing room. A few newspapers were spread across the table, all the same edition of the Daily Prophet, and Order members were reading over each other's shoulders. When they saw Harry, they backed off to let him through. Hermione followed closely behind him so that she could see, too. The look on Harry's face scared her. He had truly stopped being Harry. Was John the only thing that had been keeping Harry there?

She scanned the newspaper. Hogsmeade had been nearly burnt to the ground. They were lucky: after the attack on Hogsmeade and the fall of Hogwarts, most people had left. But the paper reported a few deaths. No names. All that was found were distinct piles of ash. The paper credited Pyro with a job well done. Apparently he had taken out a dangerous hiding place for Order members. She didn't know why they even bothered fabricating these lies. No one really believed them. All this report served to do was to show what side Pyro was now on and to fully demonstrate the destruction he could cause. Fear. John was right. It was always about fear.

Harry walked away without a word. Hermione wanted to follow him but Remus held her back. "Leave him," he told her. "He needs time." She wanted to tell him that Harry needed her but he didn't anymore. All she would do was serve as a convenient proverbial punching bag.

Of all people, it was Malfoy who found him in the basement. Harry didn't know why he chose this place. It only served to remind Harry what he had let John do, but it was also the only place people never really followed him to. Except John. And now apparently Malfoy as well. He expected a biting remark. Maybe a reference to what they had nearly done on that table. He didn't get it.

"What happened?" Malfoy asked. It was only a question. Neutral really despite their angry words not even hours before. So neutral that Harry felt as if he deserved an answer. Harry had used Malfoy. He did owe him something.

"John burnt down Hogsmeade," he informed Malfoy. "Apparently a few people died." That of course wasn't true. John was following the plan. He would allow as much time as possible for people to escape. By now he knew what a burnt body looked like as ash. It wasn't hard to imitate. The Death Eaters wouldn't look to identify the dead, and they certainly wouldn't be looking for stray charred bones in a pile of ash. They wouldn't care. Harry and John would use that to their advantage.

Malfoy didn't say anything. Harry thought he could've died from shock when he came to sit next to him. Malfoy left plenty of space between them.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, keeping a cautious eye on him. He wouldn't let Malfoy kiss him again.

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't know. You just seem like you need the company from someone that doesn't care enough about Pyro to harass you about him."

Harry just looked at him. "You hate me," he reminded Malfoy. He felt sick when he realized what Malfoy's actions could mean. "Please don't tell me you like me." Harry really hoped he wouldn't have to use the term 'like like'.

Malfoy gave him an incredibly superior look. How did he manage it? "No worries Potter. I don't like you." He sat up a little straighter. "I just want to sleep with you."

"Then why—"

"Why this?" Malfoy asked indicating where he was sitting. Harry nodded. "Because I don't hate you either. I don't like being played. And you get on my nerves, but I don't hate you. At least not anymore." He shrugged. "Plus, maybe if I'm a little nicer, you'll give in."

"Not likely." Harry only felt a little better but now guilt was eating at him. It was easier not to feel guilt about someone who he thought hated him. "I used you," he said slowly.

"So we've established," Malfoy scoffed.

"We used you," Harry corrected. John would tell him that what he was doing was incredibly stupid. But Harry needed someone to know and not just for his own sanity. There was a good chance Harry could die in this war. If they won, who would vouch for John? John wouldn't do well in prison. Forget dementors, he would go insane from boredom, Harry thought almost affectionately.

Hermione often got on his case for not thinking things through, John for him not being cautious enough. But they didn't get it. He made split second decisions and they worked. Most of the time. It was the plans that failed. Malfoy, oddly enough, was the best choice for this. He wasn't involved in the war enough that knowing John's true allegiance would affect his actions. Hermione and Remus would hold back against John. John had been adamant about not letting that happen. Malfoy had also made an oath. He literally couldn't betray them.

Malfoy stared at him. "I didn't do what I did to make John jealous." He didn't know how to word that. They hadn't had sex but they didn't just kiss either. "I did it because it was part of the plan."

"What plan?" There was an edge to Malfoy's voice. But Harry couldn't stop now. It was too late.

"John needed a reason to leave. To change sides," he explained. "Something that Voldemort could see."

Malfoy stared at him. Harry didn't think he had to continue. As much as he disliked Malfoy, the guy wasn't an idiot. "You sent him in as a spy." He seemed almost incredulous. Harry nodded. "And when the Dark Lord went into his mind, he needed to see proof that Pyro had changed sides." Harry nodded again. "You don't think that the Dark Lord will actually fall for that, do you?"

"Apparently he did," Harry responded. He was tired.

"If he looks any deeper he'll see your plan," Malfoy continued.

"John's Professor—"

"The mutant leglimens?" Malfoy interrupted.

"Sort of," Harry confirmed. It was close enough. "Well, he built a shield around John's mind. Voldemort won't be able to detect it."

Malfoy didn't say anything for a while. He looked at Harry for a moment before seemingly contemplating the wall. No matter how bad Malfoy reacted, his oath wouldn't let him do anything destructive towards the plan. That fact alone let Harry remain calm.

"You're telling me because of the oath," Malfoy finally said though his eyes remained on the wall, his body still tense. He was angry but not nearly as much as Harry expected.

"Mostly," Harry admitted. "I need someone to know in case I die."

"You're morbid, did you know that?" Malfoy asked glancing at him before looking away again.

"I'm realistic," Harry responded, he too turning his eyes to the wall. "And honestly?" He looked at Malfoy who had taken to staring at him. It made Harry feel uncomfortable. "I needed to tell someone. That might be weak but I am what I am." That was something Harry had learned from John. You couldn't hold any delusions about what you are. Why was Harry even telling him this? But Malfoy treated him like a normal person. A normal person he disliked, admittedly. Sometimes he couldn't be Harry Potter.

Malfoy didn't respond, didn't even look at him, so Harry got up and went to the stairs. Before he could take more than a few steps up, Malfoy stopped him. "It's not weak," he told Harry. "It's just human." He didn't look angry anymore but Harry knew it was still there. They were going to fight about this eventually.

"I can't afford to be human," Harry told him, giving him a false smile. Malfoy could see right through it. "Didn't you know? I'm Harry Potter. The Chosen One." He paused for a moment. "Gryffindor's heir."

Harry headed to his room. The look on Malfoy's face was totally worth spilling the beans on that one. John's influence probably. But there really wasn't any reason to hide it. Myths, no matter whether based on truth or not, were a useful thing. The wizarding world needed hope again and Harry was going to give it to them, even if that meant he had to be the heir of Gryffindor to do it. He could no longer hold delusions about who he was. He was never meant to lead a normal life.

But John never set any stock to normal. He saw power as something that made you better than normal. To John that was what he needed after his life. And maybe it was what Harry needed too. The Dursleys had made him feel like nothing but that wasn't true. He was Lily and James Potter's son. He was the one who could kill Voldemort. He was the one he was either going to lead the wizarding world to its lightest days or leave it in darkness. That was who he was. He had that power.

When he opened the door to his room, something metallic shun on his bed. The sword of Gryffindor. Harry paused for a moment before he picked it up, testing it out. It felt so much better than it had when he was twelve. It felt comfortable. This was his. This was his birthright. And Hogwarts had sent it to him. There could be no more Harry now. Only Harry Potter.

"What has my son proven?" Voldemort asked Snape, standing next to the fire. Since the discovery of his son, his followers had noticed that he looked at fire differently.

"My lord?" Snape asked, unclear about the question.

"Where do his loyalties lie?" Voldemort re-worded, sending his follower a cursory glance. As if it was an insult that Snape could not understand him.

"With you, my lord," Snape responded, daring to move closer to the fire. "His actions in Hogsmeade spoke clearly." It was true. Pyro had willingly killed in Hogsmeade and burnt almost an entire village to the ground. If desperate, Dumbledore would order a spy to kill in order to blend in and gain trust. But neither Harry Potter nor the werewolf would be willing to make that sacrifice.

"Carrow informed me that he was unwilling to torture," Voldemort went on. He couldn't quite understand why he wanted his son to be one of his followers, but he had to be sure that the boy was on his side. He could imagine the possibilities. Voldemort would break Potter before he killed him. He had never thought he could hate someone more than Albus Dumbledore.

"A child," Snape corrected. "We have known that Pyro would not take orders that do not suit him. He did not become an entirely new person over night. It would be rather suspicious if he had. Pyro, by Potter's side or by yours, will not harm a child." He paused. "Did Carrow also tell you that he lit her on fire?"

Voldemort turned to him. "No, she did not." He appeared rather interested. Voldemort grinned. "Yes, the boy will do well. Do you think we can trust him enough to bring him into the inner circle?"

Snape was always surprised at where he had ended up in the Death Eater ranks, receiving the Dark Lord's trust like no other. Though he supposed that was about to change if Pyro let it. No, Pyro would keep the Dark Lord an arm's length away.

"My lord," Snape turned to him, hands behind his back. "His loyalty to Potter was always the issue, was it not?" Voldemort didn't interrupt so he continued. "I believe we no longer have to worry about that loyalty. The boy is not acting."

"How can you be so sure?" Voldemort asked suspiciously.

"It appears that Pyro has started some sort of physical relationship with Bellatrix," Snape replied. "Excuse me if you think that I am giving in to mere conjecture, but I believe Potter could never accept that, no matter Pyro's reasons."

"You do not know of my son's past," Voldemort said thoughtfully, turning from the fire. "He would have no problem sleeping with someone he despised, was even disgusted by. A whore once upon a time, you see." Snape prevented the distaste from appearing on his face. "Oh do not hold it against him, Severus. The child survived at all costs. And it taught him the art of manipulation, a useful tool." Voldemort looked at Nagini for a moment though he didn't quite seem to be seeing her. "No, this is not an act. If it were, Pyro would have chosen someone else in fear of what his relationship with Bellatrix would do to his precious Potter. His love for that boy has been proven. But if this love has really turned into hate… I see no trace of deception in his mind. A mutant would not be able to hide thoughts from me, his mind is like an open book." A dangerous glint appeared on Voldemort's face. "Bring him in. It is time to let him into the fold. It is his birthright after all."

Bellatrix was all over John when Snape entered the room. Good timing really. It meant that John was saved from going any further with the woman, at least at the moment. He removed his hand from her thigh, but she did not get off him.

"You interrupt our fun, Severus," she pouted. Snape glanced at John so he smirked. He placed his hands on Bellatrix's hips and hoisted her off of him. It was an interesting thing to be able to do that, to be clearly physically stronger than someone he was sleeping with.

"Sorry sweetheart," he said, adopting his cockiest tone. It was no term of endearment. It rolled off his tongue like an insult. "My father calls."

"I did not think you cared for his orders," Bellatrix said, adjusting her robes.

John brushed a cursory hand through his hair to neaten it though he knew it would remain in partial disarray. "If it means I get to burn something, I'll take his orders just fine." He could've added that any excuse not to be touching her was good, too, but that would defeat the whole reason for sleeping with her to begin with. But he couldn't resist. "And I don't particularly like you." She frowned, sort of like a child (which was completely unattractive), as he followed behind Snape.

"If you don't like her, why do you sleep with her?" Snape asked somewhat curiously.

John grinned at him. "We ain't sleeping, man."

Snape just shook his head. "Last month, did you not say something about pedophilia?"

John raised his eyebrow. "It's not pedophilia for me. And me is really all I'm interested in." Mostly.

When they entered the room, Voldemort was waiting for them. "Ah, yes, Pyro. Congratulations on a job well done at Hogsmeade. Excellent." John didn't respond. He knew he did an excellent job, for more reasons than his father knew. "I fear though some questions of loyalty remain. Severus has informed me that these questions are without merit but I do not yet agree. So I ask, who are you loyal to?"

"Myself." Voldemort looked at him carefully, digging into his mind, so John thought about himself, he thought about surviving, about revenge. His father looked pleased. Xavier had really pulled through. One more reason mutants are superior to wizards (besides the whole evolution thing. Like he said, wizards were old news). He let that thought travel to his father as well.

An expression of distaste flickered across Voldemort's face. Clearly he still held his prejudices against mutants. John was just useful.

"So why should I trust you?" Voldemort finally asked.

John shrugged. "I'm not saying trust me. I'm just saying I'm on your side. And I only take orders I want to."

"And if I torture you? What then?" This felt like some sort of test.

"Not going to change my mind. I'm incredibly stubborn."

"You rather die than bend to someone else's will," Voldemort surmised, his intense gaze never moving away. Finally, he strode a few paced away, his snake following at his heels. "Carrow has informed me that you refused to torture a student when asked. Severus tells me you tortured her instead."

"I torched her, I didn't torture her." Ah, the beauty of the English language. He was proud of that one. He grinned. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Snape fail to hold back a small smile.

"Indeed," Voldemort responded. He was unimpressed. "But the question is why you did not torture the Weasley girl? I believe that would have served better than torturing one of us. Old loyalties?"

John sneered. "Old loyalties? I thought I made it clear that I don't hurt children. It's pathetic and if I see one of your followers do it, I'll probably torch them, too."

"That girl is not a child," he responded. "Nearly of age. Not even a year younger than Potter, I suppose. Is he a child?"

"So one month she's a kid and the next she's not?" John asked. He didn't hold back his disgust. It still fit in his Pyro personality. "You can't face the things Harry's faced and be a child. You made sure of that. And if he were a child, I wouldn't lay a hand on him."

"There is no place for values here," Voldemort responded thoughtfully. "I believed that you were ready for this. That you would show no remorse. Be the perfect—"

"Weapon?" John interrupted. "It's not gonna happen. And if you want me to fight for you, you're gonna let me keep whatever values I have. That's not much."

Voldemort thought about it, evaluating him. John had no way of knowing whether this was a test, whether his values were indeed an issue. "Very well." John felt some mild relief. "In a few minutes, the inner circle will be meeting. I would like you to join us."

John stared at him. "Just like that?"

"I am confident that I could detect deceit if it was there," Voldemort responded. John held back a smirk. "I believe you are a valuable asset. We can use your talents as well as your mind. I fear I lack intelligent followers."

It looked like John found Voldemort's downfall: arrogance. And Harry, of course. He had no idea who he was messing with.

Harry was late but it took him a while to get away. Hermione had become excessively clingy. He stopped in front of the door, tapping gently. The door opened and Harry slipped in, careful to remain covered by the invisibility cloak. He turned back to the door, spotting John for the first time in nearly two months. The only thing that ever told Harry that John was alright was the series of articles about the glory that was Pyro. He was slowly destroying property across the wizarding world. Voldemort continued to rule by fear and Pyro seemed to have become a symbol of that. Harry had no idea their plan would work so well.

Harry threw off the invisibility cloak. They kept their distance, both looking each other over. He refused to react emotionally. Doing so would break the shields he had slowly built up to truly become Harry Potter the last two months. Occlumency had never been easier.

John looked tired and paler than normal, made worse by his black attire. Harry couldn't look much better. He couldn't remember the last time he slept a full night. He was constantly on the alert, evacuating wizards and witches they thought to be in danger and constantly appearing too late to stop Death Eater attacks. Hopefully that was about to change.

"You look like crap," John finally offered.

Harry shrugged. "You don't look any better." John offered him a grin and a knot developed in Harry's stomach. He couldn't allow any emotion. John was going to have to leave again.

"Not happy to see me?" John asked as he moved to a chair. He didn't sit, eyes fixed to the chair instead. This was hard for him, too.

"I'm trying my best not to be," Harry admitted, feeling the shield grow weaker. He was too weak for this. He cleared his throat. "Do you have any information for me?"

John looked at him for a moment before slipping into the same business-like manner. "Yes," he responded. "In a couple of days we're attacking the London Bridge. Burning it down on one end and blowing it up on another. There's talk of giants."

This was big. What would have happened without this intel? Again, Harry knew they were doing the right thing. "What day?"

"Wednesday."

"Time?"

"Noon."

"How many Death Eaters?"

"Seven so far."

"Voldemort coming?"

"Of course not," John snorted. "The man's hyped up on power. It's not worth his effort."

"And you're not sure about the giants?"

"No," John responded. "It's all hush, hush. I don't think anyone knows for sure. If I don't know, the only other people who could know are Bellatrix and Snape."

Harry nodded before catching up to what he said. "So you succeeded?" he asked, unable to hold back his impressed tone. "It actually only took you two months to infiltrate the inner circle?" This was big. It put John in more danger but it also meant he was trusted.

"A few weeks, actually," John responded, cocky smirk. Harry wanted to kiss him. He felt it in his whole body. But he grasped at his self control.

Harry nodded again, at a loss for what to do. They looked at each other again, both standing awkwardly. "I guess that's it then…" Harry felt fourteen again.

John didn't respond, his body tense. Then he sprung, taking a few steps and pulling Harry close. Harry knew now what they meant by a bruising kiss. He grabbed a hold of John, trying to get closer. John made a noise at the back of his throat. They were near a bed. Harry pushed him down and leaned in to kiss him, but John stopped him.

"I need to tell you something," John said, breathless but also hesitant. Harry rarely saw John hesitant. He waited for John to continue but he didn't.

"What?" Harry prompted.

John bit his bottom lip for a moment before shaking his head. "Never mind. It's nothing." Harry didn't think about it, pretending it was nothing. He leaned in and kissed John again, pinning him down. John practically arched beneath him. Harry would regret this later. It would only make saying good-bye harder.