Chapter 34

A Prince's Justice

Daphne did not talk to anyone besides Theo. They tried to comfort her and tell her how awful Millicent was, but Daphne refused to tell them why she was feeling so uncomfortable. She still wore the baggy, heavy robes and seemed to only smile at Theo who always sat next to her.

That didn't mean that she didn't talk to them at all, but for some reason whenever they tried to probe, Harry and Pansy most of all, Daphne would get silent while Theo would suddenly get defensive, especially when Millicent Bulstrode would come into view. However, she stayed away from the group for the last few days and Harry would sometimes blissfully forget that she even existed.

It was now almost a week after Samhain, and Harry was with Theo and Blaise in the common room, a piece of parchment in front of him. He finally had the chance to write to Tom as he told the two about what the Weasley Twins just told him. "Apparently Black slashed up the portrait to their common room, yeah? Well now they have a replacement, and everyone hates him!" he said. "Fred told me that this new Portrait, a knight or something, changes the password almost daily! And Longbottom actually took to writing them down."

"No way!" Blaise laughed. "And they allow this?"

"Their regular portrait refuses to come back," Harry snorted. "Anyway, I'm a bit stuck, I want to tell my mentor about this but how should I that will not make him come down here immediately?"

"Didn't you just have this problem with that hippogriff?" Theo asked, frowning slightly. "Two times in two months? I'm not sure if even the Dark Lord can handle that."

"I know! Which is why I need to be careful," Harry muttered. "He knows that I'm capable enough to handle Black—but still maybe it would be better if I don't include Black at all in the letter."

"Yeah, that sounds best," Theo said with Blaise nodding in agreement. Harry picked up his quill and wrote to Tom, going into great detail about everything that happened since last he wrote and Samhain, including everything he did and saw as well as seeing the dog and what Millicent did. He asked for permission to punish her and signed the letter before charming it to be private and setting it to the side.

Just as he finished, Professor Snape walked into the common room and looked down at Harry. "Potter, with me."

Harry looked at his friends, worried and confused for a moment, before standing up and taking the letter with him. Snape led him silently into his office. "Sit." He commanded as he walked around his desk. Harry did so and looked at his Head of House.

"Is something the matter, sir?" Harry asked.

"Several things," Snape said, "The most problematic one being your stunt on Halloween. What you are doing is very stupid, as well as very dangerous boy. It is a direct insult to your mother—"

"I'm sorry sir, but are you talking about Samhain when I did my Ritual of Intent?" Harry asked.

"Yes! Do you even know what you are playing at, Potter?" Snape asked. "Your friends have a full knowledge and understanding of what is going on, but you—you do not even know where it all begins."

"But sir, I do know," Harry frowned. "And shouldn't you as well, after all, aren't you a…"

"I am the Head of Slytherin House and your Potions Professor, Mr. Potter," Snape snarled angrily. "Do not begin to assume things you know nothing about."

Harry looked at him for a moment and sighed. "But sir, I do know what I'm doing. Completely so. You know that I live with my guardian, so where do you think I've learned it from?" Harry asked.

Snape balked at Harry. "You," he began to say before clearing his throat and turning stony-faced. "Then let me tell you the other matter. This may be of a shock to you, but Sirius Black wishes to murder you."

"I know," Harry said. Snape raised an eyebrow. Harry just smiled.

"Very well, then you will understand that I will have to cancel your evening Quidditch practices. You are too exposed," Snape drawled. "As well as your Hogsmeade visits."

"Sir! You can't do that! We have our first match on Saturday!" Harry said, outraged. "I've got to train, Professor! And going to Hogsmeade is my right—"

"It is a privilege that can be revoked quite easily," Snape snarled. "Do not forget that you are still only thirteen, Potter. Even if you believe you are much… stronger than you actually are."

Harry glared at him and crossed his arms. "I am not giving up Quidditch practice," he said stubbornly.

"Then do so at your own risk," Snape said. "And just know that if Black appears and stuns you out of the sky, I will simply watch the consequences of your idiocy. That is all."

Harry stood up and left, muttering to himself angrily as he decided to just go to the owlery and mail the letter before returning to his friends.

The weather worsened steadily as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. The Slytherin team continued their training uninterrupted. The day before the match, the winds reached a howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit. Harry took to using his fire orbs as a personal light for himself and his friends, earning himself an extra point for Slytherin whenever Professor Flitwick caught him summoning more and more orbs with excellent control.

Harry almost dropped his fire, however, when he stepped into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom only to see that Professor Lupin wasn't there standing behind the desk, it was Snape.

"Put out your flames, Potter," Snape said.

The flames deflated almost sadly until they puttered out. "Where is Professor Lupin?" Harry asked.

"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," Snape said with a twisted smile. "I believe I told you to sit down."

No, you didn't, Harry thought however he had a feeling he was already on Snape's bad side since their conference in Snape's office so Harry just said nothing as he sat down. The Gryffindors all came in after and loudly protested at the sight of Snape. "Sit down," Snape said, "Twenty points from Gryffindor for a lack of manners."

That only gotten the Gryffindors to grumble even more as the Slytherins snickered. When everyone was seated and quiet, Professor Snape said, "Professor Lupin has failed to leave any record of the topics you have covered so far—"

"Please, sir, we've done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows," Hermione Granger said quickly, "and we're just about to start—"

"Be quiet," Snape said coldly. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commented on Professor Lupin's lack of organization."

"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," Dean Thomas said boldly, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the class. Snape looked more menacing than ever.

"You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you—I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows. Today we shall discuss—"

Snape flicked through the textbook to the very back chapter.

"—werewolves," Snape said.

"But sir," Granger said, seemingly unable to restrain herself, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start hinky-punks!"

"Miss Granger," Snape said in a voice of deadly calm, "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394." He glanced around the classroom. "Now."

Draco couldn't help but smirk at the sidelong looks the Gryffindors were giving as they opened their textbooks. "Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between an Animagus and a werewolf?

Without fail, Granger had her hand up and Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes. "No one? How disappointing."

"Please sir," Granger said, "An Animagus is a wizard who elects to turn into an animal. The werewolf has no choice. With the full moon when he transforms he no longer remembers who he is. He'll kill his best friend if he crosses his path."

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger. Are you incapable of restraining yourself or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?" Snape said coldly. "Five points from Gryffindor. As an antidote to your ignorance and on my desk by Monday morning, two rows of parchment on the werewolf on particular emphasis on recognizing and killing it."

The class groaned and Harry and Draco looked at each other. It was Quidditch tomorrow and now they have to worry about this long assignment. Snape then began giving his lecture on werewolves with the class taking notes. No one made a sound throughout the rest of the lesson. When the bell rang, Harry and Draco were the first ones of their friends out. "He can't be serious," Draco said, "punishing us because of Granger's know-it-all?"

"I know," Harry said, "how am I supposed to finish this as well as everything else on Sunday?"

"Well, better start writing tonight," Blaise said when he caught up and patted Harry's back. "You too Dray, I refuse for you to slack off in homework or Quidditch because of one or the other." He grinned as Draco groaned and complained the rest of the way to the common room.

Strange enough, they found a black owl sitting calmly next to Salazar on the mantle. When it saw Harry, it stuck out its leg. "How did an owl get inside here?" Harry asked as he went towards the two animals. "You haven't tried eating it, have you?" he asked Salazar.

"It is too big," Salazar said with a lazy hiss. Harry looked at the owl and took the letter cautiously. "Thank you," he said.

The owl hooted twice and flew off, seemingly disappearing into the shadows. Harry stood for a second before gathering Salazar up and returning to his friends. He sat down, gave Salazar to Draco, and stared at the letter as Salem jumped into his lap. "Who is that from?" Pansy asked.

Harry looked it over and recognized the handwriting immediately. "Him," he said, and the mood around them seemed to become tense.

"Well… open it," Pansy said.

Harry nodded and opened Voldemort's letter and started to read it.

My little snake,

I am glad to hear about your Ritual of Intent. Feeling that rush of magic fill you, committing your life and magic to the True Way of the Dark Arts, it is one of the most euphoric feelings in the world. I am proud that you get to finally feel it and take your first official step into the Dark Arts. It's strange, when I look back at all we have been through, I could always sense Dark Magic budding inside you, and now it is time to see it flourish and you bloom into the powerful and handsome Dark Wizard I know you will be. I cannot wait for Yule, my lovely boy, not only for your second ritual but also so we can finally be together once more. I already have plans for that day, and I cannot wait to experience them with you.

But that is in December. For now, we must deal with another situation. Millicent Bulstrode. I know what you are feeling. I can sense it even here, my little Horcrux. You are angry. Hateful. You want to see Bulstrode suffer. To hear her pitiful pleas before giving way to dying screams. You want revenge. However, I command you to stay your wand. It is ill-fitting to kill just because someone made you angry, especially at your age and stage. You and Malfoy are to do nothing to Bulstrode, is this understood? Your first lesson must be restraint. There is a time for you to strike and a time for you to do nothing. You must learn this.

If I hear about any serious injury or death dealt to Millicent Bulstrode, no matter how justified it would be, then Harry I would be severely disappointed. However, I know that you're a good boy. You're my good boy. My little snake. My Dark Prince.

I cannot wait until I can show you just how much you are mine.

Your Loving Master,

Tom

For the first time, Harry felt angry at Tom's letter. Do nothing? Do nothing! Millicent Bulstrode made Daphne cry to the point where she won't tell her friends what is wrong, and Tom wants them to do nothing!? Harry couldn't accept that.

"What does it say?"

Draco's words snapped Harry out of his angry thoughts for a moment. He looked up to see all of his friends looking at him. "Oh, uh, he's just happy to hear that Samhain went well and he cannot wait to see me on Yule," Harry said.

"Yule!? The Dark Lord is going to be there?" Pansy whispered, sounding half excited and half nervous. "Will we know?"

"He changed a lot since the first war," Harry said, "So I don't know." He looked at Draco and licked his lips nervously. "Also Draco," he said, his heart pounding as he pleaded mentally for Tom to forgive him, "we've been given permission."

A sly evil grin grew on Draco Malfoy's face. "Good," he purred.

"Just—nothing too serious yet," Harry stressed.

"Oh, I can work with that," Draco chuckled. "We should take our time Harry, let her almost forget about the incidence, and then ruin her! We can even make it so that some other students in different houses do it I think."

"Yeah, as long as she gets what's coming," Harry nodded.

Daphne looked between them, "Guys?" she said hesitantly. "What are you talking about?"

"How to get revenge on Bulstrode," Draco answered easily. "The toad has it coming. She insulted you!"

Daphne didn't look happy. She just looked down at her lap and nervously picked at her fingers. "I—I know, and thank you but… I don't want you to bother with it. It's not worth it."

"Of course it is!" Harry said passionately. "You're our friend Daphne, we would do anything for you. Millicent was wrong! She ruined your special night and has always been mean. She needs to suffer the consequences."

Daphne continued to frown, looking unconvinced. "I just don't want you to get hurt," she said softly.

"Daph, they're right," Theo said, surprising Harry. "She needs to face consequences, and you are worthy of this. I'll watch over them, so they don't go too far, is that okay?' Daphne looked at Theo for a moment and nodded, smiling softly. She reached for his hand and squeezed it, causing Theo to grin brightly. "Then it's decided," he said.

"Great!" Harry said, "then we can talk after Quidditch!"

The next day brought with it a fierce storm. Harry felt strangely excited, he loved playing in storms. Especially since Blaise taught him the charm to keep his glasses from getting wet and fogging up. The team changed into their emerald robes and Flint gave his usual "Let's show Wood what we Slytherins are made of" speech before beckoning them to follow. The wind was so strong that they staggered sideways as they walked out onto the field. If the crowd was cheering, they couldn't hear it over the rolls of thunder. The rain just splashed off of Harry's glasses and he couldn't help but smirk confidently as he straddled his Nimbus 2001. Wood and Flint shook hands, Madam Hooch blew her whistle—and they were off!

Harry rose fast, but his Nimbus was swerving slightly with the wind. He held it as steady as he could and turned, squinting into the rain.

Within five minutes Harry was soaked to his skin and frozen, hardly able to see his teammates let alone the Snitch. He flew backward and forward, barely able to hear the commentary over the wind. The crowd was hidden beneath a sea of cloaks and battered umbrellas.

He lost track of time. It was getting harder and harder to hold his broom straight. The sky was getting darker, as though night had decided to come early. Harry barely was able to swing out the way from Bludgers and other players.

There was a clap of thunder, followed immediately by forked lightning. The game was getting more and more dangerous. Harry needed to get the Snitch quickly—

He turned, intended to head back toward the middle of the field, but at that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the stands, and Harry saw something that distracted him completely—the silhouette of an enormous shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, motionless in the topmost, empty row of seats.

Harry's numb hands slipped on the broom handle and his Nimbus 2001 dropped a few feet. Shaking his sodden bangs out of his eyes, he squinted back into the stands. The dog had vanished.

"Come on Potter! My hair is ruined! Finish the Game!" Came Draco's anguished yell.

Harry looked around and saw a flash of gold shimmering in the rain-filled air. "Come on!" he growled at his broom as the rain whipped his face and he threw himself flat to the broom handle.

The Gryffindor Seeker saw the Snitch as well and zoomed towards it, chasing after Harry. But something odd was happening. An eerie silence was falling across the stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. It was as though someone had turned off the sound, as though Harry had gone suddenly deaf.

And then a horribly familiar wave of old swept over him, inside him, just as he became aware of something moving around him.

At least a hundred dementors, their hidden faces pointed up at him, were standing beneath him. It was as though freezing water was rising in his chest, cutting at his insides. And then he heard it again. Someone was screaming, screaming inside his head.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside. Stand aside, now…"

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead…"

Numbing, swirling white mist was filling Harry's brain. He should save her but he couldn't. He couldn't do anything. He was falling.

A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming, and Harry knew no more.

People were whispering around him but their voices made no sense. He didn't have a clue on where he was or how he'd got there, or what he'd been doing before. All he knew was that every inch of him was aching as though it has been beaten.

"That was the scariest thing I've ever saw in my life."

Scariest… the scariest thing… hooded black figures… cold… screaming…

Harry's eyes snapped open. He was lying in the hospital wing. The Slytherin Quidditch team, splattered with mud from head to foot, was gathered around his bed. His friends were also there, looking as though they'd just climbed out of a swimming pool. "What happened?" he asked.

"You fell off," Blaise said, sitting on Harry's bed. "Fifty feet."

"We thought you died," Flint grunted.

"It was so scary—and the dementors were there—I couldn't believe it," Pansy said.

"The game—what about the game?" Harry asked. "We didn't lose, did we?"

"Gryffindor won," Draco said bitterly. "Their Seeker got the Snitch just after you fell. We tried to argue for a rematch, but Wood refused."

"Cheating bastard," Flint muttered. He stared at Harry for a moment. "You better pray to the Dark for us to win. It's all a matter of points now." Harry just nodded and looked down at his lap. For the first time, he lost the Snitch. It didn't feel good. Madam Pomfrey came over to tell the team to leave him in peace. Daphne, Theo, and Blaise left with them as Pansy and Draco stayed.

"I never seen Dumbledore look so angry," Pansy said, looking very shaken. "He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wands at the Dementors, shot a silver mist and they just ran away."

"At least the old fool is good for something," Harry muttered. "Guessing it was he who brought me here?" The two nodded and Harry sighed. "Do me a favor? Please don't write to my Master about this. I don't want him to worry."

Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harry in the hospital wing for the rest of the weekend. He didn't argue or complain. He had a stream of visitors, Fred and George came with Cedric and the twins told Harry how they tried to convince Wood on getting a rematch, but he kept on refusing, stating that they needed to win this year, his final year. Cedric sighed as he looked around and wrapped an arm around George's waist. "I get winning, but honestly he seems obsessed with it," he sighed. "But hey, good news Harry is that at least your broom didn't break, eh? I personally can't wait to play against Slytherin." He grinned. Harry just nodded and did his best to offer a smile. His mind couldn't leave the voice he heard. He knew now without a doubt that it was his mother and the Dark Lord he was hearing. He knew what happened, he was told so specifically by his master, but to actually hear it, it made Harry hesitant. Not enough to fall off the path he was taking or throw away his love for Tom, far from it, however, Harry felt that he just needed to talk to Tom face to face, and he wouldn't have that option until Yule which felt like forever away.

It was a relief to return to the noise and bustle of the main school on Monday, where he was forced to think about new things, even if he had to endure Ron Weasley's taunting. He kept going over how Harry fell off his broom, imitating it to the few Gryffindors who would laugh with him. Professor Lupin was thankfully back at work when they walked in, and even better he excused the homework that Professor Snape assigned. He taught them about hinkypunks, a little one-legged creature who looked as though he was made of wisps of smoke, rather frail and harmless-looking. That was until it made a horrible squelching noise against the glass.

When the bell rung, Harry stayed behind. "Ah Harry, I heard about the match," Professor Lupin said.

"Did you hear about the dementors?" Harry said with difficulty.

Lupin looked at him quickly. "Yes, I did, I don't think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time … furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds. … I suppose they were the reason you fell?"

"Yes," Harry said. He hesitated, and then the question he had to ask burst from him before he could stop himself. "Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just—?"

"It has nothing to do with weakness," Professor Lupin said sharply, as though he had read Harry's mind. "The dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don't have."

A ray of wintery sunlight fell across the classroom, illuminating Lupin's gray hairs and the lines on his young face.

"Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too near a dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself… soulless and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that happened to you, Harry, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of."

"When they get near me—" Harry stared at Lupin's desk, his throat tight. "I can hear the Dark Lord murdering my mother."

Lupin made a sudden motion with his arm as though to grip Harry's shoulder, but thought better of it. There was a moment's silence, then—"

"There has to be a way for me to defend myself against them," Harry said. He looked up at Professor Lupin, "You were able to make the dementor in the train back off."

"There are certain defenses one can use," Lupin said. "But there was only one dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist."

"What defenses?" Harry asked at once. "Can you teach me?"

"I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors, Harry… quite the contrary…"

"But if the dementors come to another Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them—"

Lupin looked into Harry's determined face, hesitated, then said, "Well … all right. I'll try and help. But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays, I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill."

"Of course," Harry nodded. He smiled and said, "It's funny, sir, but you just reminded me of my mentor."

"Oh? Have I?" Professor Lupin asked. "I didn't know you had a mentor, Harry."

"I do, he's also my guardian," Harry nodded. "He raised me since I was seven. He helped me a lot. In fact, it was because of him that I learned how to do this." He snapped his fingers and an orb of light appeared, its colors blending and shifting into beautiful rainbows. "I can also make them out of just fire."

"Ah, I've heard about your fire magic," Professor Lupin nodded, "That is very powerful magic, Harry. I don't think I even recognize it. Your guardian must be a great man to teach you all of this."

"He is," Harry said honestly. "I don't know where I would be without him. He took me out of a horrible situation."

"Then, I'm honored that you compare me to him, Harry," Professor Lupin smiled. "Thank you."

A/N: I see all your angry glares at me and Tom. All I will say is be like Aaron Burr, sir. Wait for it.