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Chapter Forty-Six-Slytherin Families
"Did you send a letter to Theodore, dearest?"
Lindanora nods, her eyes submissively cast down. Tarquinius is just as glad of it. Sometimes, when she looks at him like that, he feels his head spin, and all he can think of is spending the entire day in bed with her. "Yes, dear one. I only hope that I did the right thing."
"Why wouldn't you have done the right thing?" Tarquinius stands and walks around the table to cup the back of her neck and remind her of who's her husband. Lindanora shudders a little and turns to press her forehead against his chest.
"Because he hasn't responded to me."
Tarquinius laughs and feathers his fingers through Lindanora's hair. "I wouldn't worry about that, dear. Theodore can be prone to fits of the sullens and thinking that he's the only one who matters. By the time he returns for the summer, he'll have accepted his place in the proper scheme of things."
"But-do you think he'll be a threat to our children?" Tarquinius knows, without having to see it, that Lindanora is now resting her hand on the swell of her belly.
"No, why would he be? They're his siblings, and he'll feel the call of common blood." Lindanora's mouth opens against Tarquinius's chest, and Tarquinius touches the back of her neck again. "Besides, Theodore is not going to be around much longer to be a threat to our children."
"What-Tarquinius? You're really going to kill him?"
"Of course I am. I can't having him be the threat to our twins that even you suspect he will be, dearest."
He can feel Lindanora nodding hesitantly this time. "But in that case, why wait until he comes home for the summer? Why not eliminate him now?"
"I am glad to see that you are growing some concern for your children and husband, and developing a sense of strategy along with that," Tarquinius tells her, and kisses the tip of her nose when she looks offended. "But in truth, I want him to see who's replaced him before I kill him. And if I kill him too close to Potter, Potter might discern the truth."
Lindanora's shining brown eyes turn up to him. "Are you afraid of Potter, Tarquinius?"
Tarquinius snorts at her and touches her arm when she lowers her eyes in abashed apology. "Of course not, Lindanora, but I can see how it might appear that way. One thing to remember is that I've survived for a long time by not taking chances. I didn't defy the Dark Lord to his face; even now, all I've done is refuse to return to his side. That's something the Dark Lord will think about, and if he does win the war-as unlikely as that looks right now-he can accept me back without too great a loss of face. Defying Potter publically would likewise be stupid."
"Will he allow you to follow him if you murder Theodore, though? I mean, he'll know to suspect you."
"He'll know to suspect me," Tarquinius murmurs with a nod. "That's not the same thing as knowing that it was me." He reaches out and lets his fingers close around his throat. For a moment, he rejoices in the feel of the hammering pulse under his touch. Then he lets her go and smiles at her. "And we'll be behind our impenetrable wards by then, away from him."
"When our children grow..."
"Do you seriously think that Potter will still be around with a grudge by then?" Tarquinius asks with a laugh. "Either he would have forgiven me, because he is ridiculously forgiving, or the Dark Lord will have killed him."
"Oh, of course." Lindanora leans against him with a little sigh. "Your intelligence is so much different than I thought at first, Tarquinius."
He squeezes her throat again to punish her for that, but then sweeps her up and takes her to their bedchamber. They have matters to settle that he thinks need settling, right away.
Blaise hesitates when he sees one of the Slytherin prefects guiding a Ravenclaw girl into the common room. It's not that it's out of the ordinary for certain select students from other Houses to visit the common room, as long as they're Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs. It's that usually those students are younger siblings of Slytherins, and this one isn't. Nor is she young. Blaise thinks she's a sixth-year that he's seen about a time or two.
"Blaise Zabini?" asks the girl, her blue eyes wide and her hand reaching into her robe. "I have a message for you."
Blaise is moving before she can take out the "message," diving under his chair and rolling towards the fire. In the next second, something golden zips overhead. For a second, Blaise thinks it's a curse, but then he realizes it's Lion, Harry's golden, winged snake.
Lion crashes into the girl and curls around her wrist, squeezing so hard that she screams, and Blaise hears the distinct sound of snapping bone. The prefect who let the girl into the room stares with wide eyes, then darts out the door. Lion remains with the girl, but Blaise is sure that Harry has someone or something following the prefect, too, just in case he went somewhere other than to fetch Professor Snape.
"Are you all right, Blaise?"
Blaise straightens up slowly, shaking. Harry stands in front of him, staring with narrowed eyes at the Ravenclaw, who cradles her broken wrist in front of the fire and moans at them. He holds out his hand without looking, and Chaos comes up beside him, though in an odd position. It takes Blaise a second to figure out why she's standing that way. In this position, she's between him and anything that comes flying from the downed girl.
"Fine." Blaise swallows. "She didn't get the chance to actually fling anything at me. Who is she?"
"A Ravenclaw, Daisy Hertford," Professor Snape says from the door. He must have been patrolling the dungeons nearby to get her that quickly. "I have already confirmed that she is not under Polyjuice or the Imperius."
"Then what-" Harry starts.
"My mother," Blaise says. He sits up as the other Slytherins turn to stare at him, already choosing his words. His mother has the same Gift as he does. He has to make sure that he says enough to make them understand how dangerous it is without revealing one of his own weapons. "She can enchant others with the subtlest of touches, including with messages. It wouldn't take much more than a brush against parchment for her to bind someone for a short period of time."
Cassius Warrington looks horrified. "Then you mean-she could just send you a letter and you would do her bidding?"
"It would take more than one letter," Blaise admits. He's watched his mother do this, so although he isn't revealing exactly how her Gift works, by suppressing her target's will, he knows the mechanics. "But not more than three."
"What kind of horrifying things is your mother doing, Zabini?" asks Warrington.
"No more than you probably already knew she was doing, given how many times she's been suspected of murder," Harry snaps. His magic is visible around him, at least to Blaise, rising off his skin in streamers of mist. "You just didn't care about it until it affected you." He turns to Blaise. "Let's talk about how we're going to handle this."
"How who is going to handle this?" bleats Warrington. "He needs to be out of the House! He could be a danger to the rest of us, if this bitch is going to stop at nothing until she gets to him..."
He trails off under Professor Snape's intense stare. Despite the pounding heartbeat in his throat that hasn't calmed down, Blaise does enjoy how silently Snape intimidates Warrington. In seconds, the older boy is staring at his feet, and Professor Snape turns and gives much the same stare to the rest of the crowd of Slytherins.
"You may go."
They depart the common room, scattering noiselessly to their beds. Professor Snape kneels down next to Hertford and raises a privacy ward around them that Blaise traces to a bracelet clasped around his wrist. That's new, Blaise thinks, right before Professor Snape locks eyes with him and murmurs, "Explain to me how your mother can do this."
Blaise sighs and looks between Professor Snape and Harry. Harry is looking less upset now than he did, which Blaise thinks is a good thing. The last thing they need is Chaos reacting violently when they're nearby. "She has a Gift that subdues the will of other people, Professor. If she writes a letter and sends her Gift into the ink, then she can enchant people who touch it. But I meant what it said about taking at least three letters." He glances towards the Ravenclaw girl, who appears to have been Stunned. Lion is still curled around her wrist. "At least to get this kind of compliance."
"Would she need to know the names of the people she wished to subdue, or could she simply tell her owl to take the letter to a Hogwarts student?" Professor Snape asks, eyes burning. Blaise knows why. If that's the case, then anyone in Hogwarts could potentially become a weapon pointed at Blaise, and through him, Harry.
"The names," Blaise admits. "Although she could send a letter that was enchanted to seem attractive first, and simply get the name of the person who wrote back to her."
"I find that your mother tries my patience, Mr. Zabini," Professor Snape murmurs before he stands.
Blaise nods slowly. That sounds like his mother doesn't have long for this world. Honestly, that doesn't surprise Blaise. He's long thought that his mother would die from foul play, either from a victim of her Gift or someone she irritated. He can prepare himself for his mother's death not being too distant in time if he has to.
"In the meantime," Harry says, in that kind of trumpet-like voice that makes Blaise look at him warily, because he honestly never knows what's coming, "we're going to make sure that your mother can't hurt you."
"I appreciate that," Blaise says, glancing at Hertford. She seems to have slightly less glazed eyes at them now, but he knows from experience how long his mother's enchantments take to wear off. "But it shouldn't be your responsibility."
"It should be the responsibility of anyone who can do it."
Blaise feels his mouth quirk in a small smile as he faces Harry again. That's the kind of thing that most Slytherins would never say. "Fine, but I don't think Professor Snape would like you putting yourself in danger."
"There is no need for that," Professor Snape says at once, before Harry can even turn to look at him. "I can spread the kind of enchantment around you that will immediately free the mind of anyone who approaches you under the kind of influence that overcame Miss Hertford." He gives the Ravenclaw the kind of contemptuous glance that makes Blaise glad Professor Flitwick isn't in the room.
Then Blaise's brain catches up with his ears. He stares at Professor Snape. "You can, sir? How?"
Professor Snape grimaces. "The sort of influence that the Heads of House used to use at every turn, but haven't in the past few decades. The Headmistress has empowered us to use it again." He leans forwards and touches his wand to the Slytherin crest on Blaise's robes. What he says is under his breath, and Blaise isn't sure he would understand it even if it wasn't. The words blur and twist in an odd way. But he can definitely feel the heavy, muffling pressure that immediately falls across the part of his mind responsible for his Gift.
He shudders convulsively. Professor Snape watches him for a long moment. Then he nods. "Do you feel all right, Mr. Zabini?"
"Not amazing, sir," Blaise admits. "But that's one amazing power. Why did the Heads of House give up that power, or stop using it?"
"Because, in order to use it, we need to know exactly what we're protecting you against," Professor Snape says dryly, and sheathes his wand. "That means that I needed to know how your mother's magic worked, and what you can do." He holds Blaise's eyes in a way that says he has no intention of revealing Blaise's Gift. Blaise just nods. "Pure-blood families who have Gifts objected to revealing the knowledge of them."
"Arseholes," Blaise mutters. He understands that, given that he doesn't want to reveal he inherited his mother's Gift, either, but the right of people to defend themselves against those like her is worth more than some privacy.
He pauses. He never would have thought that a few months ago.
Harry's bloody influence, he thinks, and turns his head to see Harry grinning at him.
"We'll make sure that you're all right, Blaise," Harry says, softly enough that the Slytherins starting to filter back into the common room and glance uneasily at them can't hear him. Professor Snape is already Levitating Hertford's body towards the door. "No matter what we have to do."
Blaise nods casually, trying to ignore the fervent pounding of his heart. He doesn't know what Hertford was supposed to do-poison him or give him a Portkey or something else-but he presumes that he'll find out in a short while, when the professors have conducted their investigation.
In the meantime, he survived.
And he intends to go on doing so.
Theo wakes and finds himself floating in darkness. That's not entirely unexpected, not after what Harry reported happening in his dreams. He turns and flexes his mind open, focusing on the bond that ties him and Harry together.
The blackness abruptly flows past him like scales on the neck of a dragon. Theo wonders for a second as he charges if he'll sense Chaos, but if so, neither she nor her bond is readily visible right now.
The darkness begins to gleam with light like stars. The bond grows thicker, and pounds with pain. Theo throws his hands out and pulls as hard as he can.
He finds himself in the middle of a forest clearing that's brilliant with red light, a sullen fire in the center. Theo can smell burning human flesh. He keeps his gaze away from the fire, knowing that what's cooking there would only disgust him, and sees the teeth parting in the slick black-purple face of Voldemort.
Two years ago, before Harry joined Slytherin, Theo would perhaps have felt awe at the Dark Arts that must be keeping the beast alive. Now all he can feel is contempt. Who would want to be reduced to that?
"Young Mr. Nott." Voldemort's voice is disgusting, bubbling with a sound like blood in lungs. Theo watches him coolly, which makes the creature's hands flex. "I will rip the skin from your bones."
"It's flesh," Theo says, unable to help himself.
"What did you say?" Voldemort opens his mouth to display some slightly longer teeth that are probably meant to intimidate Theo, since they look like they're made of wolf fangs. But Theo was never intimidated by werewolves even before Harry was marked.
Theo shrugs. "The flesh from your bones. Not skin. There's plenty of flesh in between the skin and the bones, you know."
Voldemort stares at him for the barest moment with perplexity that Theo is going to cherish for the rest of his life. Then he leans forwards, and another wave of scent strikes Theo. He doesn't let it bother him. "You are interfering with my rightful prey. Was not your father my follower?"
"Was. Past tense. Notice that. Much like your existence as an entity that inspires respect."
Voldemort hisses something at him then, practically screeching it, but despite spending so much time around Harry, Theo hasn't picked up more than a handful of Parseltongue words, and none of them are among the ones that Voldemort is screaming at him. Theo shrugs and turns his awareness outwards, looking around this forest, which is only partially real, for a sign of Harry.
He finds him hovering behind a tree a short distance away, and exhales in relief. It seems that Voldemort is too taken up with trying to hurt Theo to have sensed Harry or tried to "punish" him. Theo holds out his hand and calls on the bond that ties them again.
Voldemort shouts as the forest starts to flicker and waver around Theo like a magical photograph that didn't spend enough time in the right potion. "What are you doing?"
"Resisting you," Theo says, and turns his head. It's probably stupid, but he wants to show Voldemort exactly who he's dealing with. He holds the dark beast's eyes, and lets his own blaze with his hatred, in the moments before he and Harry disappear.
Voldemort stares back at him, his lips slightly parted. This time, Theo doesn't think Voldemort is trying to intimidate him with his shiny fangs. Instead, he's doing that out of surprise, unable to prevent his jaw from sagging.
A huge jolt runs through Theo's body, like falling off a broom three meters up, and his eyes pop open to find that he's in his bed next to Harry's. His hand rests on the curtains that are closed around Harry's sheets. Theo doesn't have time to open them before Harry flings them open, heavy cloth swishing around his shoulders as he crawls to the edge of his mattress. From the lazy glow rising from behind him, Theo knows Chaos is there, too.
"Theo? Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine." Theo leans back and considers Harry for a second, but he can't see a trace of a wound, or Cruciatus damage, or the horrible convulsing that Harry was doing a few nights ago. "What about you?"
"Yes." Harry mutters to himself as he scrubs his hands through his hair, hiding and revealing the lightning-bolt scar. "I'm going to kill Severus. He said that you would be able to shield me, not-not be there with me."
"A bond between human minds like this works differently than the one you might have with a familiar," Theo says, with a shrug. "Or a dragon," he adds, seeing Chaos's head poke around Harry's elbow. She gives him a suspicious snort and curls up, lapping her tail over her forepaws.
"I didn't want you to get hurt."
"I didn't. I already told you that." Theo raises an eyebrow. "Oh, wait, I think I understand this. This is your peculiar code, right? You don't want to see me getting hurt, even when I'm in no pain and have no wounds, which translates to you not wanting me to see what Voldemort looks like or what you have to face."
Harry's cheeks acquire a dull flush, and he turns away. Theo pinches the corner of his elbow, and Harry turns around again with a snarl, his hand clenched in front of him.
"Listen, you arsehole," Theo tells him. "You're my friend, and I volunteered for this. That means that we're going to see it through. I'm not going to ask Professor Snape to dissolve the bond between our minds, and you're not going to yell at him. Just make sure that you tell him the truth when he asks how it went."
"I-Theo, it hurts me when someone else gets hurt in my defense."
Harry makes that confession with his face turned away, and Theo understands why. It's not the sort of thing he would want to leave himself vulnerable by admitting. But he touches Harry's arm, and murmurs, "I didn't get hurt this time. And even if I did, I would take the pain you'd feel over you being hurt, any day."
Harry draws a difficult breath, and his hand fists for a second in the bedclothes. Theo keeps his hand where it is, then withdraws it. Yes, it's difficult and painful, and he can understand Harry. But he means what he says.
"I suppose I'm still not used to people giving a fuck about me," Harry mutters, staring into the darkness.
Theo touches his back and then sits up. "We should probably decide if we're going to go back to sleep or not."
Harry gives him a look of gratitude, probably for slipping past the moment without really acknowledging it, and then nods. "Thank you, Theo."
Theo smiles into the darkness, accepting the one friendship he's ever had for what it's worth. Which is everything.