The True Face of Another
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Hope you enjoy the next installment.
I do not own HP.
Chapter 22 - A False Sense of Security
August 2 (Thursday)
Harry grinned as he toweled his hair off - he'd needed a shower after that last flying session with Draco!
It had been a good few days. His birthday had turned out incredibly well and then yesterday Harry had spent most of the day with Draco poring over the book Snape had given him. They spent a lot of time in the lab while Snape was out, and then spent more time just discussing theory and trying to figure out the changes the two had made based on their knowledge of potions.
Snape had been gone most of the day, and had seemed extremely drained and was acting somewhat odd upon his return.
During dinner, Harry had caught Snape giving him looks he didn't know how to decipher. It looked as if the man was desperate to see something, and would appear relieved each time he looked away.
Harry tried not to worry about it overmuch. Snape's behavior was strange, but it wasn't hostile. Harry was a little concerned, however, for Snape himself. Hopefully Professor Dumbledore wasn't sending him to do anything too dangerous.
This morning, Harry had spent time flying with Draco. During lunch, Snape looked distracted again, and once again, kept shooting him strange glances. The same as dinner the night before, they weren't hostile, so Harry tried not to worry too much about them.
After lunch, Draco and Harry retreated to Harry's room to relax. They set up a game of gobstones and Draco was telling him about some up-and-coming star quidditch player, but Harry's mind kept flitting back to Sirius. His godfather had been on his mind again since he'd received the letter and pictures for Remus.
"Draco, do you know any more stories about Sirius?"
"I suppose I have a handful I haven't told you. There was apparently a ridiculous prank he pulled in fourth year…"
He and Draco had been swapping family stories here and there for some time now. It turned out that Narcissa had told her son more over the years about her younger cousins than Draco had at first remembered, so he had plenty to share once he really thought about it.
These stories included tales of Sirius' pranks as well as some sweeter, more intimate stories from her childhood of time she'd spent with Sirius and Regulus and even, to Harry's surprise, James.
These discussions of family were helping Harry to be able to focus on the happy things when thinking about Sirius, and the discussions seemed to be helping Draco in a similar way.
Draco didn't say much about his father, as he seemed to understand that it wouldn't lead to a great conversation with Harry, but he spoke plenty about his mother.
Harry shared stories he'd heard about the Marauders, but he had so far avoided stories that included the Marauders' Map and the Invisibility Cloak. Those were things that he felt were secrets between him, Ron, and Hermione and he feared they'd feel betrayed if he told Draco about them without saying anything to Ron and Hermione first.
Heck, as far as his friends knew, Draco was still the evil Slytherin git who was out to get them - a junior death eater, happy to follow in his father's footsteps. Harry wasn't sure how he'd be able to convince them things had changed come next school year...but he supposed there was still time later to worry about that.
The family stories Draco and Harry shared were great, but they also made Harry hungry for more. They considered who all they could ask for more information.
"Severus knows a lot. About your mother, of course, but also mine. He was also somewhat close with Regulus, and he may have told him some interesting stories."
"Regulus, huh? From what you've said and based on your mum's stories, it seems like he was a good person, overall. But uh, he was a death eater, right? Sirius made it sound like he was all too happy to join up…"
Draco scowled. "I doubt it was that simple. Pureblood families are strict, and Sirius ran from his. Can you imagine the pressure suddenly put on his younger brother to fill his shoes after he left?"
Harry hadn't thought about that.
"Anyway, I hear that Regulus betrayed the Dark Lord and was killed for it."
Harry's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"Again, that's what I've heard."
"I'd like to know more about him...he was Sirius' brother, after all."
"Well, at least for that, we can ask Severus."
"True. And for my dad and Sirius, and even my mum when she was older, there's always Remus."
"You surprise me."
"Huh?"
"I'm not sure why you haven't asked the damn werewolf for all this information already."
"I…"
"Don't tell me you have some weird complex going on about this."
"I don't!"
At the dubious look on Draco's face, Harry explained, "Fine. I don't anymore. He wrote me a letter on my birthday and I know we're fine, but it's just...before that, I hadn't heard from him since Sirius died and…"
"Let me guess. You thought he was blaming you or some such rot? To me, that suggests that you still blame yourself, Harry."
Harry shrugged.
"That's bullshite. It was aunt Bellatrix at fault. Bella and the Dark Lord. Yes, you were manipulated from what you've said, but this is the Dark Lord we're talking about! Manipulation is what he does!"
Before Harry could answer, Draco continued.
"Anyway, you should have realized that either Remus Lupin wasn't worth your time to begin with, OR, if he is as great as you make him out to be, he wouldn't be petty enough to hold this against you."
Harry smiled at the blond. The way Draco was so quick to cheer him up in his own way really touched him.
"Thanks, Draco. I mean it. And anyway, Remus pretty much said the same thing. That it was in no way my fault and all."
"And you believe him?"
"I think I'm starting to."
"Good."
"He sent some interesting pictures of my folks with him and Sirius when they were young, by the way," Harry said, eager to change the subject.
"Show me?"
Harry nodded and passed over the photos. As they looked through them, Draco identified a few faces in group photos Harry hadn't recognized.
"I'm surprised Lupin had some of these. Wait - look at this one, Harry."
Harry blinked in surprise. "I hadn't noticed that picture before. Maybe it was stuck to the photo above it earlier."
The photo was of a very young Sirius - maybe 12 years old? - with his arm around a smaller boy who appeared pleased but embarrassed, and two older girls who looked very familiar.
"Mum," Draco said softly, letting his fingers gently hover over the blond girl's head. In the photo, she looked up and seemed to give him a little knowing smile.
Draco shook his head to clear it. "Oh, this is Regulus, by the way and - oh, wow, that's Aunt Andromeda. Scary how much she looks like Bella. Just way less crazy."
"I'll say," Harry breathed, looking at the smiling young woman with curly brown hair. "Andromeda - wait, isn't that Tonks's mum?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "She still goes by her last name like that? Stubborn. But yeah, cousin Dora is Andromeda's daughter."
"I'd kind of forgotten you were related to them. Er, have you interacted with them much?" Harry asked carefully.
Draco shook his head. "I met Dora once when I was a kid. I remember liking her well enough. She was amusing with her metamorphmagus powers. Mother and Andromeda were estranged, but I get the feeling mother hoped to someday get the chance to reconcile. One time when she thought nobody was listening, I heard her whisper 'Andy.' I'm pretty sure she was talking about my aunt."
Harry wondered if Draco had forgotten he was still here considering how private that last moment he shared was.
"Well, why don't you reach out to them?"
Draco scoffed. "They wouldn't want to hear from me."
"I'm sure that's not true."
"Andromeda and her muggleborn husband absolutely hated my father."
"You're not your father. I don't think they'd be that close minded. Don't you think it's worth taking the risk? Andromeda is bound to know all sorts of things about your mum and my dad and Sirius."
Harry could see Draco was weakening. The idea clearly appealed to him.
"You know, I'm in touch with Remus now and he and Tonks er...seem to have something going on between them. If you'd like, I could reach out to Tonks on your behalf. It's really no problem. Then I can let you know if you're wasting your time."
After a long pause, Draco said, "Maybe. Would you?"
Harry smiled. "No problem. I figure she's enough on Dumbledore's safe list that I should be able to send her a note. I should probably check with Snape or Dumbledore first, though."
"But what do you mean Dora and Lupin have something...going on...between them?" Draco's eyes were wide and he looked a little sick.
Harry shrugged. "Just what I said. I'm pretty sure they're seeing one another. Maybe even living together, so...I wouldn't say anything nasty about werewolves if you want to get on Tonks's good side," Harry warned.
Draco sneered at him a little. "Ye of little faith." He shook his head. "I won't." He gulped. "Maybe I'll try writing to Aunt Andromeda, too."
"That's the spirit!" Harry gave him an encouraging pat on the back and Draco looked at him in shock at the absolute nerve he'd just shown.
-HP-SS-DM-
Harry was in pretty good spirits. He was actually excited by the prospect of encouraging Draco to reach out to Tonks and Andromeda. Now that Harry had gotten to know Draco, he knew the blond valued family in the extreme, so Harry really hoped there could be a chance he could mend a broken family connection like that. He even thought Draco could eventually give Remus a chance - he'd have to if Remus joined the family, he thought wryly.
At least Draco was less stubborn than Snape, Harry thought, rolling his eyes. He couldn't see the potions master Snape warming up to Remus anytime soon.
He figured before he and Draco tried reaching out to them, though, he should clarify with Snape and Dumbledore what all could safely be said in letters to which people. He didn't want to put them at risk, after all, by alluding to his current living situation in a way he shouldn't.
He got to Snape's study and was about to knock when he heard raised voices. He started to turn around and come back later, but then caught Professor Dumbledore's voice saying his name…
Despite himself, he leaned in, pressing his ear up to the door to listen. Apparently Snape had forgotten to cast a privacy ward before starting this conversation. Harry knew he shouldn't pry, but the headmaster was always so secretive about all things related to Harry, keeping things from him even when they involved him to a great degree, and he couldn't resist listening in now that the opportunity presented itself.
"My boy...you know I regret that Harry was never as well loved as he should have been…"
"Not as well loved, you say?" The sarcasm was so thick it could be cut with a knife. "They kept him in a damn cupboard, Albus!"
Harry flinched. How the hell did Snape know that? Had Harry let something slip?
"Severus, my sins involving the boy - and yes, I admit they are many - are not what I wish to speak about right now. Far more pressing is the horcrux in the boy. Have you given much thought to…?"
"Removing a piece of the Dark Lord from the boy will not be easy…however, I do not believe it to be impossible."
"It is unfortunate that this possibility did not occur to me earlier. Had I known sooner it may have been much simpler, but as it is, I fear the horcrux by now has cleanly melded itself with Harry's magic. After all, what other explanation do we have for Harry's parseltongue than that it came from Voldemort himself?"
Harry gasped loudly, not realizing how audible it was. The voices on the other side of the door cut off abruptly, and Harry could hear footsteps moving his way.
Without another thought, he turned and bolted. He needed to be alone.
-HP-SS-DM-
Horcrux. It was a word he'd never heard before, but it had been pretty clear from Snape and Dumbledore's conversation what the word meant. There was actually a piece of Voldemort inside of him, mixing with his magic? How much of his magic was even his own? He didn't know what to believe.
Harry didn't stop running until he could see the familiar ancient cedar in front of him. When he reached it, he let himself collapse against it, letting it support some of his weight, just taking in the natural smell and willing the magic of the garden - which he liked to think of as residual magic from his mother - to take his worries away.
He wished, now more than ever, that she was still here, that he could go to her for advice, for comfort. She might not have all the answers, but at least she could be someone he could trust to listen to his fears and not judge him. Sure, his friends played that role to a great extent, but it just wasn't the same.
He jumped at the sudden sound of footsteps. Craning his neck around, he could just see the familiar black cloak of his potions master swaying after the man as he moved quickly down the path towards him.
No. The last thing he wanted was to be cornered by Snape right now! He stumbled to his feet and backed away.
The man was close to rounding the bend that would give him a clear view of Harry in the clearing, so the Gryffindor made a split second decision to run for some thick bushes in the trees behind the clearing.
As he ran, there was a moment when Harry felt like the magic of the garden was pulling at him, willing him not to go further, but he was too determined to get out of Snape's sight to care. He pushed through and crouched behind a large bush.
He could only just see his Potions Professor as the man entered the clearing. Harry could see Snape close his eyes for a moment - whether to center himself or just breath in the air of the garden, Harry wasn't sure, but then the man was back to searching the area with his gaze.
In response, Harry backed up a little further, willing Snape not to find him. Slapping himself for being a dolt, he reached into his robe and pulled out his invisibility cloak, donning it quickly.
But suddenly, Harry felt a sharp pain in his scar - the type he hadn't felt in weeks, ever since coming to the manor. He had to bite his lip hard to stop himself making noise, out of both pain and surprise.
He braced himself on the ground with one hand. The other hand he pressed against his scar. Slowly, but surely, the pain went away, but he still stayed in his hiding spot, begging Snape to hurry on back so he could move.
Another wave of pain shot into his scar, and he stumbled. This time, the pain was accompanied by a feeling of glee and suddenly, Harry felt fear wash over him. He was feeling Voldemort's emotions again, he knew it. Why now?
Then the thought occurred to him - was it possible he'd stepped out of the wards? He wasn't sure honestly where they ended. And furthermore, did that mean the wards had been muffling his connection with Voldemort?
He looked ahead. The garden was so close - maybe only 30 feet from him. He could hear Snape calling his name. He started to move forward but stumbled feeling his cloak fall from his back and then suddenly a wave of magic washed over him, his limbs locked, and he landed face first onto the ground in front of him.
Harry tried to yell, but he couldn't make any noise at all. He felt himself get lifted off the ground and levitated away somewhere. Eventually, he stopped moving and was flipped up so he could see his captor. Standing above him was a large figure in black. Harry's glasses had fallen off in the commotion but he could just make out the death eater mask the figure wore.
"Well, well, Potter. My lord was right, of course." The man bent down and took Harry's wand before grabbing Harry's prone arm in a vice-like grip. Harry spared a moment to curse himself mentally for not using the wand holster from Remus, which would have come in handy now, before the familiar sensation of apparition pulled him through a magical tube.
He landed on the floor of a high-ceilinged room. The lights were dim.
From where Harry lay, frozen, he could see a line of dark-robed individuals lined up in front of him.
"Put him where I can see him."
No. No, no, no!
The high-pitched voice that had just spoken struck fear in Harry's heart in a way his name never had.
Harry felt himself getting lifted, turned and roughly dropped in front of the snake-faced visage of his parents' killer.
The gruesome face twisted into a mockery of a smile.
"Harry," the tone was sing-songy. "How nice of you to drop in. I must say, wherever Dumbledore decided to hide you this time must have had impressive wards, as until a few moments ago I was unable to gain any reading of you. Thank you so much for leaving the wards and sparing me trouble."
"My lord, my lord," said a voice that, if possible, generated more hatred in Harry than even Voldemort. "Please can I play with wee wittle potty? Please?"
"Patience, Bella," the snake-faced man chuckled. "I will let you have your turn, of course. But first, I believe I will let Mulciber take a turn seeing as he did the job of picking up the boy."
"Thank you, my lord."
The death eater who had incapacitated and kidnapped Harry stepped in front of him. Without any hesitation, the man lifted his wand. "Crucio."
All at once, Harry's nerves were on fire, a burning, piercing, incredible feeling. Still being petrified, Harry was unable to scream. This almost made it worse. There was no release, no way to express his pain. There was only the pain. After a few long seconds, the man released him.
"Alright, Bella, you may go ahead."
The mad witch gleefully took her place.
"First, let's have some fun…" With a cackle, she screamed "Imperio!"
Harry immediately strained to resist it, but it was very difficult. Mulciber's cruciatus curse had taken a toll on him mentally. Still, he held on, not wanting to give her the satisfaction and soon it seemed Bella was getting frustrated.
"Crucio!" She shrieked, and the mental control left him to be replaced with intense pain once again. It was worse. Many times worse than Mulciber's. Harry remembered Bellatrix's words the time he'd tried to Crucio her - "You have to mean it, Potter! You have to love causing pain!" - It was clear that Bellatrix LeStrange truly loved causing pain, making her attack many times more effective than the average dark wizard's.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed by the time she finally released him, but she immediately followed the attack with another Imperius curse. This time, Harry was honestly too drained to fight back, and his limbs moved on their own as he got on all fours and began to make woofing, barking and whining noises - like a dog.
"Good puppy," she cooed. "Your goddaddy would be so proud of what a good puppy you are," she hissed.
Did Bellatrix know about Sirius' animagus form? Harry wondered despite the haze of absurd pain he was in. He supposed she did. The crazy witch had been in Azkaban with him after all.
Something about Sirius' murderer using that against him, tormenting him in this way, seemed to break him. When she released him, although he was no longer petrified, he may as well have been. He just curled in a ball and let tears roll down his cheeks. He knew he looked pitiful, but he couldn't find it in himself to care at the moment.
"I'm afraid, Harry, that your location will be extremely difficult to pinpoint for any of your Order friends. You shouldn't torture yourself, expecting rescue when you won't be getting any," Voldemort said in a faux-comforting voice.
It made Harry want to vomit.
"Bring him to me."
Harry was levitated over to the seat Voldemort used as a throne. The man was now mere inches from him and it made his hair stand on end.
"I'm curious, Harry," The man reached a skeletal pale hand out and lightly stroked Harry's forehead, right where his scar was. Just as it has been in the graveyard, Voldemort could now touch Harry's scar without it hurting Harry or injuring the evil wizard. "Is there anything special about you? Anything at all?"
Harry didn't think he needed to dignify that with an answer.
"Because from where I sit, I see nothing, other than the scar I myself gave you, that marks you as anything other than a mediocre wizard. And yet the wizarding world fawns over you as if you were great. I assure you this is not the case. At this point, I will kill you simply because the thought of you irritates me to no end, and I will slaughter each of your friends in front of you, just because I have the power to do so."
Harry valiantly fought down the desire to spit in his face, but it was a close thing.
"I don't see anything about you to write home about either, Tom," he said calmly, to Voldemort's obvious displeasure. Harry couldn't believe his nerve, and knew he'd probably pay the price for it, but the confused whispers among the death eaters behind him at the way he'd chosen to address their lord gave him satisfaction.
The feeling didn't last long as he felt a pain so insane he could hardly wrap his mind around it. Voldemort was crucioing him, and probably not taking it too easy on him, either.
When Voldemort spoke again, his voice was very controlled and quiet, and as a result, far more dangerous sounding. "Know, boy, that I only refrain from killing you now because I wish to see you suffer as much as possible first."
He then spoke to his death eaters. "Do not lethally harm him. Torture and play all you wish, however."
After that, Voldemort allowed his death eaters to take turns. Some just gave him a few good kicks in the side, others used the cruciatus curse, and a pair of sadistic twins took turns cutting and then healing him.
Throughout it all, Harry just stayed curled up into a ball, cursing himself for being so stupid. Why had he let himself forget the real danger of Voldemort and let himself fall into this trap just because he'd wanted to be alone after what he'd heard Snape and Dumbledore discussing?
Now, if he ever did get out of here, he'd be putting others at risk as well.
Harry curled up more, wishing he'd actually learned Occlumency from Snape. He'd really like to be able to escape into his mind now. He wrung his hands to his chest and they bumped up against something.
He tried not to make any reaction at the realization that he still had the calling stone Snape had given him. He'd taken to wearing it like a necklace around his neck out of habit, but had never once used it. It was a longshot, but he pressed his hands against it, pleading with all he was for Snape to hear him and come find him.
While the torture continued, as long as he touched the stone, it seemed somehow more bearable, as if the stone were numbing the pain, creating a barrier between him and the onslaught of attacks. Even so, he wasn't sure how much longer he could bear it.
Hurry, Snape. Please.
It occurred to a delirious Harry that all those times in his cupboard when he'd wished for a savior, it had always been his parents he'd pictured, but as the years passed he'd realized no one would ever come for him.
But now it was different. There was someone now. But just when had he started to trust Severus Snape so much?
Forgive the cliffhanger! Luckily, I have the next chapter pretty much already written. I may make a few slight edits, but otherwise, expect it up in the next two days.