Chapter 18 – Harry Learns More
For the first time ever, Draco wondered where Gryffindors got their courage from. And not even in a sarcastic way. Potter seemed to do everything in such a casual Gryffindorish way. He had overcome his fear of Dementors so quickly in third year. Longbottom, too, was more Gryffindor than Draco realised. Draco was aware he was staring at Potter and his friends. They were laughing and joking. How could they do it? How could they put the war so easily from their minds and go on like everything was normal? Draco's dinner was untouched. He was too busy trying to work up the courage to go over to Potter.
All he had to do was get up and go apologise. Draco looked up at Severus, who was looking back encouragingly. He looked up at his dad, who was busy watching his daughter and conversing with Professor McGonagall, who seemed delighted by the baby. Never had he seen the strict Transfigurations teacher coo over anything like that.
He never thought he would find himself in a position like this. Potter was always the Chosen One. Before he left for his first-ever train ride for Hogwarts, his father had told him to make friends with Harry Potter if he could. Lucius had said it would be a great advantage to have Harry Potter on their side. Lucius had said it was important. Draco had not recognised Potter at Madam Malkins. But he had had to speak like a Pureblood because his parents had warned him that no one outside the family could be trusted.
Looking back, he knew he had already made his first bad impression, and the second conversation on the train had not smoothed the road anything either. His father had given him an important mission, one that he had not fully understood the machinations of but had understood the advantage of. Writing to his father of his failure, he was aware of how much he disappointed him. It had made him lash out at Potter even more, thereby escalating their rivalry. He recognised, now, all he had to do was leave Potter and his friends alone, and he would not be in this situation now. He had been so angry that Potter was not his friend, had chosen Weasley over him, that he had decided that he would make Potter regret it. And that is what he had done. He made Potter and his friends miserable. Because he could. Because Potter had refused his friendship. Forced him to disappoint his father.
Draco had not dared confess half the things he had done to Potter to his father. Severus was the only one who enjoyed listening to how he made Potter miserable. Severus had sat with him in his private quarters and listened with a smirk. He had not dared tell his father that he had used the word Mudblood. When Severus found out, though, he had never seen his Godfather that angry, had never had so many detentions before or since. His fellow Pureblood Slytherins had been impressed, though, especially the elder years. He had cemented his status inside Slytherin. He had revelled in it, even as he had hidden it from his father. He had told his mother, however. Had told Narcissa everything he had done. She had tried to talk some sense into Draco, but even as he had confessed the truth to her, he had not listened. He had still resented that his life seemed to revolve around Saint Potter. It made him hate the famous wizard even more.
Now, finally, the haze seemed to have lifted from him. He saw what his mother and father had been trying to help him understand. Not just about Potter, but about them all. About Longbottom, Lovegood and the Weasleys. They were the kind of people you wanted on your side. They would lay their lives for you. Draco did not want that because he wanted to be on the winning side, even though he did. He did not want that because he wanted to live, even though he did. He wanted to be a part of that group that his father was a part of. He wanted to be a part of something, wanted to stand for himself.
He could almost laugh. Everyone seemed to be begging Potter for forgiveness; Draco, Severus, Percy Wand-Up-His-Arse Weasley, the Ministry. At first, he had been angry. Now he understood. But asking for forgiveness was not easy. And looking between Severus and Potter again, he realised, doing the forgiving was not easy either.
Looking around, he realised how empty the Great Hall was. They had lost many people since Voldemort was finally revealed inside the Ministry of Magic. No one was spared, no matter whose side they were on. Most of the Dark Lord's supporters came from Slytherin, but there was an unknown handful from each house. Those who had not wanted to follow the path of their parents dared not leave the safety of the castle. Some of those who followed the Dark Lord had not returned. Neither had some of those that defied him.
Draco stood up abruptly from his seat. He looked at Severus one more time, who gave him an encouraging nod. Lucius, who finally started paying attention, stared at him in question. Draco flicked a glance at Potter's table. Lucius gave him a faint smile. Bolstered a little by the approval, Draco moved around the Slytherin table and towards the Gryffindor. No one paid him any attention. Not the students at least, but he was aware that his father and Godfather were looking towards him. He was unaware of the approving eyes of the Headmaster. Or the amused look of Sirius Black.
Draco continued to the Gryffindor table in what he hoped was a casual manner. His heart was hammering. He could do this, he told himself. His courage lasted until Weasley happened to look up and see Draco approaching. Weasley gave him a puzzled look and nudged Granger next to him. Draco's courage fled before Granger could look up, and Draco fled with it.
He did not see Severus hand his father a fistful of galleons. He did not see his father split them with Black. He did not see the confused looks Weasley and Granger exchanged.
OoO
"You bet against your own son!" Severus said darkly, shaking his head.
Lucius was amused. "I bet on his nature."
"He won't be happy if he finds out," Severus grumbled.
"If is a good word," Lucius smirked, keeping a close eye on Adelaide as she gurgled in Minerva's arms and then passed along to an eager Albus Dumbledore, who didn't seem to mind when her tiny hand grabbed a fistful of his beard.
The whole staff adored Adelaide. All tenured teachers were so used to children ranging from 11 to 18, a mass of hormones and rebellion and mood swings and angst that they all clambered to hold a cute bundle of joy who didn't talk back and was easily satisfied with food and cuddles and the occasional nappy change.
Severus held Adelaide occasionally and very carefully. And the second she looked like she was going to switch from contented kitten to screaming banshee, he hastily handed her over to the nearest competent adult. It galled him to count Black as one of those. The mongrel was good with babies; it had to be said.
Severus rarely let himself get left alone with Adelaide, but even he had to admit, there was something charming about having a baby in his arms. He only had Adelaide alone on 3 occasions, and she slept through most of that, thank Merlin. But Severus always found himself distracted from his marking of homework and lesson planning. Instead, he had found himself sitting beside her bassinet, staring at her innocence. He had to admit a sense of peace that he found captivating as he watched her sleep. The baby's absolute trust was that no harm would fall on her whilst he watched over her. He felt humbled by that. And by Lucius, who trusted him with her. He could not recall ever being left alone with Draco; there was always someone around.
"Draco will find his courage soon," Lucius was saying.
"He will," Black agreed. "He's done well to pull his head from his arse so soon. For some of us, it took too long."
Severus stood up abruptly; he did not need to sit here and listen to Black's barbed remarks about his attempts to earn Harry's forgiveness. It would have shocked Severus if he had known that Black was talking about himself. Unlike Draco, Severus was very aware that Lucius and Black were watching him.
OoO
Harry was aware that Hermione and Ron were muttering furiously about something.
"What's wrong?" he asked, looking up from his toast.
"I think Draco was trying to come to us," Hermione said, a frown creasing her forehead.
"What for?" Ginny asked, stopping her conversation with Neville.
"Who cares?" Ron and Neville said together.
Harry looked up towards the Head table and caught Sirius's eyes. Sirius only gave him a wink.
"Maybe he's still trying to get into the DA?" Hermione pondered aloud, waving her spoon.
"He failed the first condition," Neville said promptly.
Surprisingly, it was Ron who muttered, "To be fair, that wasn't a reasonable condition."
Astonished, they stared at him.
"What?" he said, looking at them all. "I was looking forward to condition two."
They all let out murmurs of understanding.
"So was I," Ginny agreed as a matter of factly.
"Too bad," Neville mumbled. "Maybe we should give him a chance."
They all looked at each other and burst into laughter.
OoO
It was several days later that Harry found himself in Dumbledore's office. He hoped this would be the last lesson with Dumbledore regarding the history of Tom Riddle. Dumbledore had found the Gaunt ring and had almost lost his life for it. With the diary taken care of in his second year and now the ring, they had removed 2 items that tethered Voldemort. Dumbledore was adamant that Riddle had not made seven Horcruxes but had made enough to ensure his death would not be final. Dumbledore had determined that they had found yet another Horcrux, apart from Harry; this should be the final one. Dumbledore had managed to track it down to a seaside cave, a field trip that the orphanage had taken the children on. Dumbledore had had difficulty tracking two people, children who'd been at the orphanage at the same time as Tom, who had been locked inside the cave, scared out of their wits. They had reluctantly, aided by a sly bit of Legilimency, divulged the sought-after location.
After informing Harry and at Harry's insistence, Dumbledore had left several days ago with Bill and Remus. Remus had come back incoherent and was still in the Hospital Wing, under the influence of the poison that Riddle had left behind to trap whoever dared to take his toy.
"So, you're saying that's not the real locket?" Harry asked incredulously.
The Champions all knew about the Horcruxes. Harry had trusted Ron and Hermione with that information as well. He'd also insisted that Sirius be informed about it, but the information went no further than that. Almost blindly trusting Dumbledore, Bill and Remus had followed, being told only that the key to defeating Voldemort was inside the cave. They had all barely escaped with their lives, bringing back the locket, battling Inferi and dragging an incapacitated Remus Lupin with them. All for nothing, it seemed.
With a defeated look, Dumbledore answered, "No, Harry. It appears someone had beat us to the punch, as it is said. Whoever got there before we left us this fake in its place."
He thrust the parchment that was inside the fake locket towards Harry.
Harry read it,
"To the Dark Lord
I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.
R.A.B."
Harry didn't bother asking Dumbledore if he knew who R.A.B. was. If he did, the Headmaster would not look so defeated.
"Do you think he managed to destroy the Horcrux like he said?" Harry ventured into the silence.
"I do not know, Harry," Dumbledore sighed, looking disappointed at the fake in front of him. "I can only hope that it has but must operate under the assumption that it has not. We can not leave anything to chance."
Harry agreed. This was too important. They needed to track down this R.A.B. and demand the evidence of the destroyed locket.
He stood up from his chair to hand back the dreaded parchment to Dumbledore and glanced at the fake locket. It was the first good look at the jewellery he'd had since he'd stepped into the Headmaster's office.
"Sir? May I?" Harry asked, but didn't wait for confirmation. He reached for the locket and picked it up. Dumbledore, sensing something, silently watched him in bemusement.
Something about the locket seemed awfully familiar. The snake? The design? What was it? Something tickled the fringes of his memory. He closed his eyes in concentration. The snake was familiar to him. It reminded him of the snakes in this Chamber. So real he could speak parseltongue when he was there. He could try to speak parseltongue to this one. It was there, within grasp. Suddenly he knew, and his eyes flew open in remembrance to see that Dumbledore was already staring at him.
"Sir, I know where I've seen a locket like this before," Harry said urgently.
Dumbledore stood up sharply.
"Where, Harry?" the Headmaster asked, his tone just as urgent.
"Headquarters," Harry announced triumphantly. "Mrs Weasley had us all cleaning that summer before fifth year. I remember seeing a locket similar to this. Ron and I tried to open it for ages, but nothing worked."
"Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore murmured. The portraits watched them carefully. He stared down at the note. "R.A.B."
Dumbledore was talking to himself.
"R.A.B. Of course," Dumbledore sighed. "Regulus Arcturus Black. R.A.B."
"Regulus? As in Sirius' brother Regulus?" Harry was surprised.
"The very same," Dumbledore confirmed. He pulled out his wand and summoned his Patronus. Harry listened as Dumbledore ordered Sirius to come to the Headmaster's office and watched the silver phoenix disappear.
Harry waited impatiently for Sirius to arrive. He had destroyed the diary years ago without knowing what it was. Dumbledore had destroyed the ring and almost lost his life for it. Remus had almost lost his retrieving the locket, fake as it was. They just needed to find the real locket that was somewhere in Grimmauld Place. Harry knew they would need to take care of the Horcrux inside him. Dumbledore still hadn't told him what Harry already knew. Harry wondered whether this was because Dumbledore was still being secretive and controlling or because his guilt was holding him back. Harry purposefully had not pushed yet. Harry just waited for Dumbledore to confess. He was also waiting for Dumbledore to confirm Riddle's other method of immortality. Harry suspected that Dumbledore also knew this. He just hadn't said yet. Harry wondered why he wasn't angry. He should be. Dumbledore was withholding vital information. He should be angry. But Harry decided to give Dumbledore more time. For now.
First things first, they needed to destroy the locket Horcrux—the real one.
They heard the gargoyle status move aside and then the spiral staircase. The footsteps didn't wait for the staircase to rise; the footsteps were rapid and urgent. Sirius didn't knock on Dumbledore's door; instead, he barged right in, a look of panic on his face.
"Harry. Albus. What is it? What's wrong?" Sirius stuttered. He looked like he had run all the way. "Are you hurt?"
Harry, who was about to launch into his explanation, paused as he took in Sirius' wild, worried eyes.
Turning to Dumbledore, he said, "What did you say that's got him this worked up?"
"The message simply said that you and I needed his assistance and that it was critical," Dumbledore told him. "My tone might have been a little grim, but not inappropriately, so, I don't think."
"What?" Sirius gasped, who was bent double with his hands on his knees straightened up. "What?"
"We need your help, Sirius," Harry said, a little sheepish. He hadn't meant to make his godfather worry.
"Neither of you are hurt?" Sirius questioned, looking better as he stepped closer to Harry.
Harry shook his head.
Sirius took a breath of relief and took the final step towards Harry, reaching out an arm towards him. Harry, who thought Sirius was going for a hug, was surprised when his Godfather slapped him on the back of the head.
"Ow. What was that for?" Harry griped, rubbing the sore spot.
"For making me worry, you git," Sirius snapped.
"It was Dumbledore's message," Harry defended, glaring at Sirius. "Why don't you go smack him?"
"I damn well will," Sirius blustered, looking daggers at the Headmaster.
Dumbledore straightened up and held up his hands in surrender.
"Now, now Sirius. We did call you here for a reason," the Headmaster said quickly before Sirius could get any closer.
"What reason was that?" Sirius growled, still looking annoyed.
"We need to get to Grimmauld Place, Sirius," Harry said sombrely. "But first, you should read this."
Harry grabbed the note that was inside the fake locket and thrust it into Sirius' hand. Sirius was well aware of the Horcrux hunt by now.
Sirius fell into the chair behind him when he realised what he was reading. Harry saw his Godfather mouthing the initials at the bottom of the note.
Sirius wasn't slow on the uptake. He stood up from the chair, looking between Harry and Dumbledore.
"You think Regulus took the real locket?" Sirius asked, his voice somewhere between hope and dread.
"There is only one way to find out," Dumbledore declared, straightening up. "Call for Kreacher, Sirius."
Sirius hesitated. Harry could only imagine Sirius' shock. It had taken more courage than Sirius let on to get away from his family. Regulus had bought into the Black Family rhetoric, and as much as Sirius proclaimed to hate his family, he still also loved his brother. They must have had some redeemable qualities that made Sirius so upset to learn Regulus had defected.
"Kreacher," Sirius called, his voice shaking slightly.
Kreacher appeared with a loud crack, bending down low, resentfully, muttering all the while.
"Horrible Master, breaking Mistresses heart. Calling me here. What does traitorous Master want?"
Sirius looked like he was taking a deep breath before he spoke to Kreacher. They might need Kreacher, but it didn't mean that he wasn't despicable in his own way.
Harry held out the locket to Sirius, who took it from him. With the note in one hand and the locket in the other, Sirius asked, his voice still shaking, he asked, "Tell me about Regulus and the locket, Kreacher."
With an angry yowl, Kreacher lunged for the locket only to be held back as if he was a puppet on strings. Sirius hadn't moved at all. Looking behind him, it was Dumbledore who held his wand out to stop Kreacher's attack.
In a firmer voice, Sirius commanded, "Kreacher, I order you to tell me where the real locket is."
Kreacher looked like he was in pain as he tried to disobey the direct order but quickly seemed to realise Sirius did not have the real locket.
"Blood Traitor Master asks Kreacher to talk about the locket, but Kreacher won't. Kreacher won't. Oh, how Kreacher failed. Good Master Regulus trusted Kreacher," the house-elf yelled.
Sirius remained unmoved by Kreacher's words and shouts. It was painful for the house-elf to disobey, something Harry had never seen before in a house-elf.
"Answer my question, Kreacher," Sirius demanded in a harder voice.
"Kreacher has locket," the house-elf gritted out painfully.
"Bring it to me," Sirius ordered. "Right now. Go fetch it for me and bring it to here to the Headmaster's office."
With a resentful glare, Kreacher popped away once Dumbledore released him.
"There is more to Kreacher than we understand, Sirius," Dumbledore said sombrely. "We need to get as much information from Kreacher as we can."
Sirius, who had returned to looking at his brother's note, nodded.
"May I keep this, Headmaster?" Sirius asked without looking up.
"Of course," Dumbledore agreed with a sad smile.
Kreacher popped back, clutching the locket possessively against his dirty, skinny chest.
"Hand it over," Sirius said firmly, holding out his hand.
It looked like it was physically painful for Kreacher to follow his command.
Immediately after Kreacher let go of the locket, he threw himself to the floor and began screaming and yelling, not unlike a five-year-old Dudley when he wanted more sweets or games. Fist pounding as the floor, legs flailing, Harry quickly lost patience and sympathy for the pathetic creature. Removing his wand, he cast a silencing charm on the house-elf, ignoring the disapproving look from Dumbledore.
"Let's not tell, Hermione," he said, putting away his wand and ignoring Dumbledore's look.
Kreacher stopped his tantrum and sat up, staring at them all hatefully.
"Can we use the sword to destroy it?" Sirius asked, glancing behind Dumbledore at the cabinet where he knew Dumbledore had placed the Sword of Gryffindor.
"I believe we can," Dumbledore said with a satisfied glint. Dumbledore turned to fetch the Sword.
Kreacher looked more alert, Harry noticed with interest.
"I'm going to lift the Silencing spell," Harry told the house-elf. "And if you start screaming and shouting again, I won't hesitate to stun you, okay?"
Kreacher nodded resentfully but watched them carefully.
"Tell us, Kreacher, about how Regulus got this locket," Sirius asked in the kindest voice Harry had heard him with use with Kreacher.
"Master Regulus was kind to Kreacher, not like horrible blood traitor Master who broke Mistresses' heart," the house-elf began.
Uncharacteristically, Sirius stayed quiet. They listened to Kreacher's tale with horror.
Taking the Sword from Dumbledore, Harry looked to Kreacher. Being unable to fulfil his Master's last wish, last order had driven the house-elf to dark depths. Harry felt pity for the creature. And anger at Voldemort that he would use Kreacher in such a way. Kreacher deserved peace as well. Kneeling in front of the house-elf, who watched him warily, Harry offered the Sword to Kreacher.
"It's time you fulfilled your master's last wish, don't you think?" Harry said softly.
"You is truly going to destroy it?" Kreacher asked gruffly.
"No, Kreacher. You are," Harry said in a firm voice, holding out the blade to Kreacher.
Kreacher grasped the hilt of the Sword and hefted carefully upwards. Harry stood up and moved out of the way.
Dumbledore and Sirius also moved back but had their wands out, ready for whatever came their way.
Harry knew, somehow, what he had to do.
"Open," he hissed in parseltongue.
Dark smoke filtered out from the locket, quickly filling Dumbledore's office with his dark presence.
"Do you think you can end me, Harry Potter?" came a slow drawling voice of Voldemort. The Horcrux's last protection. Knowing it would end soon, it tried to ensnare Harry in a web of insecurity and uncertainty. Preying on his fears. All Harry could see were red eyes.
"Will you save everyone you love?" The voice sneered.
Dumbledore shifted.
The smoke whirled until it revealed a form. It was a young girl. She barely looked to be in her teens. Her hair was unkempt, her clothes dirty as if she'd been playing outside. She looked to Dumbledore, who froze.
"Albus? Didn't you love me, Albus? I loved you. Why did you hurt me?"
Dumbledore stumbled forwards towards the mirage.
"Ariana," Dumbledore whispered.
"Albus, it's not real," Sirius said in an angry voice.
The smoke shifted its attention to Sirius. It transformed. Harry recognised immediately.
"You abandoned me, brother," smoke Regulus exclaimed. "You ran away from me and left me alone. Where else should I have tur-"
"You is not my good Master Regulus!"
There was a thwack as the blade of the Sword hit the locket. The smoke let out an unearthly screech, and the black cloud of horror dissipated slowly. Kreacher continued to lop away at the locket, even taking off a huge chunk of the Headmaster's desk.
Harry felt proud of the little house-elf. Even as a Horcrux, Voldemort underestimated Kreacher and his loyalty.
"You know you're going to have to treat him better now," Harry pointed out as Kreacher continued to hack away at the locket.
Sirius nodded in resignation, but Harry did not think that his Godfather was that averse. Knowing his brother had died unknowingly, aiding them probably lightened his soul. The guilt would always be there, however. He only had to be better Master to Kreacher for Regulus' sake.
Harry did not remember the locket from Salazar's time. But then the Founder left Hogwarts years before Caspian had passed on. He could have acquired it on his travels away from the school. He had started a new family away from Hogwarts. Harry hoped Salazar wasn't fond of the locket. Given the way Kreacher continued to hack away at it, there was already nothing left.
"Shouldn't we be stopping him now?" Sirius asked as he watched his house-elf stab away at the pieces of the locket.
"He's your elf," Harry shrugged.
Harry, Sirius and Dumbledore, as one, looked towards the oblivious Kreacher.
"We'll let him finish first," Sirius said, taking another step back. "He's been needing to do this for a while."
"I shall need to acquire a new desk," Dumbledore sighed, looking at his previous wholesome desk.
"Couldn't you repair it?" Sirius asked, seating himself in his earlier chair.
Dumbledore looked pointedly at the pieces of his desk that now resembled splinters. Given the way Kreacher was slashing away, they would soon be sawdust. Dumbledore was a brilliant wizard, but Harry doubted even he could repair this sort of damage.
"A new desk, I think," Dumbledore said firmly. "Shall I summon for some tea, my dear boys?"
At the words, Kreacher stopped stabbing the pieces of the locket. Chest heaving, he said loudly, "Kreacher can bring Master Sirius tea."
Sirius looked surprised at the offer.
Taking the opportunity, Harry said, "Yes, Kreacher. I think Sirius would love tea. In his quarters."
He gave his Godfather a meaningful look as Harry handed over the fake locket to him. Sirius understood.
Kreacher straightened up as he dropped the Sword of Gryffindor on the floor, quite carelessly. Sirius led the way.
Both Harry and Dumbledore let out heartfelt sighs. Dumbledore waved his wand and spelled the pieces of the destroyed Horcrux onto the undamaged side of his desk. Harry was surprised it was still standing, really, given the angle Kreacher had hit the desk.
Harry took the seat Sirius had vacated, and Dumbledore picked up the Sword, placed it back into the showcase, and then took his seat behind his broken desk. The Headmaster summoned a Hogwarts house-elf for tea and snacks. The house-elf snapped his fingers, and a tray appeared with the requested delicacies.
"That's the Horcruxes taken care of," Harry said in a mild voice once the house-elf disappeared. Harry watched Dumbledore carefully as he said this.
He knew he didn't imagine the flicker of a flinch behind Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles.
The Headmaster looked up slowly towards Harry and studied him intently.
"You already know," Dumbledore said in a pained voice.
"I do, Professor," Harry said softly. "I just wondered how long it would be before you told me. You seem to default back to your secretive nature. You promised you would tell me everything."
Dumbledore closed his eyes as if trying to block out Harry's words.
"I don't doubt you care, Headmaster," Harry continued. "But don't use it as an excuse. You don't get to keep this a secret."
Dumbledore nodded and took a deep, shuddering breath.
"I only wanted to give you more time to –" Dumbledore tried to say.
Harry cut him off.
"I understand. I understand that you wanted me to be a child when it came to things you didn't want me to know and an adult when it suits you and your grand plan."
Dumbledore fell silent as he leaned back in his chair.
"I'm a soldier, Headmaster," Harry began formally. "I pledged my very soul to protect Hogwarts and what it stood for. It was my first home, and it always will be. The prophecy was made in your presence, and you felt responsible, but tell me, if you had never known the prophecy, would you have interfered in my life as you had? The answer is no because you wouldn't have needed to."
Dumbledore bowed his head.
"Who was Ariana?"
Dumbledore looked up but saw that Harry would not let this go.
"My sister," Dumbledore said softly.
Harry nodded.
"I looked up to you, Headmaster," Harry said. "I can tell something unbearably tragic happened with her. And it affected you. It made you afraid. But tell me this, Headmaster. Did it truly change you?"
Dumbledore looked truly angry for the first time. As if insulted by Harry's last question.
"Ariana was six years old when muggle boys attacked her. She'd been practising her magic in the back garden, and the boys had seen. They were afraid and, in their fear, they hurt her so much that she was afraid of her own magic."
"Obscurus," Harry sighed, feeling the horror of the word settle in his chest.
Dumbledore acknowledged the word with a nod but said, "Not quite, but very close to it. My mother became her caretaker. Looked after every hour every day. Ariana was such a good child. Until she was unable to control her magic. When she was fourteen, her magic spun out of control and - and my mother was killed. I had only just graduated from Hogwarts myself. My brother, Aberforth, still had two years of schooling left. I had grand plans to travel the world. Aberforth said he would give up Hogwarts. I could not leave Ariana, and I could not allow Aberforth to leave his education. Resentfully, I became Ariana's caretaker. The same summer of my mother's death, I met someone who changed my life forever. I had known him only a handful of weeks, but we grew close. We had great plans together. We would conquer the world. The muggle world. We were both powerful wizards. It was our duty to show the muggles the way. For the Greater Good."
Harry listened without judging.
"Aberforth didn't agree with any of our plans. Despite what those boys did to Ariana, he did not have the same harsh feelings towards muggles as I did. He was always so angry, quick to raise his wand, quick to duel, but he never hated muggles for what they did to our family. He only loved Ariana. He tried to stop us. He gathered his courage and stood up to us that summer. I realised, bitterly, that he was right. But my friend was not so easily thwarted. We began to duel. Each believed we were right. Sweet Ariana tried to interfere. She tried to help. We still do not know which one of our curses hit her. I wanted to use the stone to speak to her. To beg her forgiveness. Perhaps find the truth.
"Aberforth returned to school after the funeral. With a heavy heart, I did indeed go travelling. But everything had changed for me. I realised power was not for me. Once I was offered the position of teaching at Hogwarts, I came back. I was happy to do so."
Dumbledore lapsed into silence, and they were both lost in their thoughts.
In a way, Harry found it laughable the more he thought about it. After seeing Slughorn as an example, Riddle had seen the power and influence being a teacher would bring. Riddle had intended to use his teaching position to recruit students to his horrible cause. He had no intention of being the kind of mentor the Founders had wanted for their students. Dumbledore had denied him that opportunity, and since Riddle's interview, no DADA teacher lasted more than a year for decades. Voldemort had done much damage to the school.
Flicking a glance towards Dumbledore, Harry realised that the Headmaster had done his own kind of damage despite his good intentions.
Dumbledore looked as if Harry had bludgeoned him over the head.
"You and Snape aren't so different," Harry began in a mild tone.
Dumbledore, whose gaze drifted towards the window to avoid Harry's knowing eyes, was startled at the words. He seemed confused at the non sequitur.
"A tragedy outside the school left you both hiding inside the walls of Hogwarts, expecting to be shielded from the hurt of it. Your intentions to be here might be noble, Headmaster, but truthfully, I can't agree that you've done enough to make Hogwarts a place of sanctuary that the Founders wanted it to be. I'm beginning to understand Lucius' aversion to your actions. You are a powerful wizard. You have considerable magic at your disposal. And, yet, you hide in the castle. You think having power would corrupt you, yet you still can't let go of your positions in the Ministry. You say you don't want the power to be the Minister for Magic, but you can't seem to stay away from the politics and concentrate solely on the school. The world would mourn your passing, Headmaster, and they should. You have done a lot. But quite honestly, you haven't done enough. You say you've changed towards muggles, but I truly can't see that in effect. Where is the tolerance within the school? Where is the education that pureblood should be getting to show the advances muggles are making without magic? Where is the education that muggle-born or muggle raised should be getting to understand this new world that they've introduced to?
"Hermione has been my best friend since first year, Headmaster. Her parents have never even seen Hogwarts. You know you can bypass the wards so that they don't have to travel via the front gate. Don't they have the same right to see what education their daughter is receiving? Shouldn't the parents of muggle-born parents know what career options their children have in the wizarding world the same as the parents of purebloods or those with parents who've grown up in the wizarding world? You say you are only a leader because it is expected of you; you say you don't want it. But you have the opportunity actually to make a difference, and you've not only not taken it, but you've also not even thought about what difference you can make. You preach about love and forgiveness and family, but you don't practice any of it.
"Lucius has had to work in the shadows for so long, Headmaster. He said that you've let him win so many small victories that there's no point in fighting the big battle."
Pointing towards the pieces of the locket on Dumbledore's desk, he said, "Treat those tiny pieces like a jigsaw, Headmaster. When you put a jigsaw together, you will still have the bigger picture. When Caspian first came to Hogwarts, he was proud. I'm not so proud anymore. Those values have gone that the Founders had instilled? They've eroded away. There is no Unity. You are the cause of that.
"When I was a first-year, I remember how you favoured me and Gryffindor by allowing us to win the House Cup. At the time, I was too naïve to understand what it meant, how it drove a wedge between the houses. You set the wrong example, and I was too simple to understand it. You could have rewarded us without punishing the Slytherins. You could have let us tie for the Cup.
"And you only made it worse when you allowed Snape to continue his bullying tactics. He might be changing now, but the damage is already done. You interfere in all the wrong things, at all the wrong times. And you haven't learned from your mistakes at all.
"The answer is no, Headmaster. You haven't changed at all. Your mother's death meant the death of your dreams. You gave up your dreams and decided to stay at home to look after your sister out of duty. But the thing is if you'd never met your friend if she hadn't have died in that duel, wouldn't you have resented her the whole time she was under your care? It's easy to sit here and regret everything you'd done, everything that led to her death. But the truth is her death freed you from your obligations. Yes, you loved her. Yes, you feel guilty. Yet, after she passed, you left the country and travelled anyway. You could have stayed. Tried to mend your relationship with your brother. How much time has passed? How often do you and your brother talk?
"You did the same thing when you dumped me on Petunia's doorstep. You put her in the same position that you'd been placed in when you'd realised Ariana was your responsibility. She grudgingly took me in. If Petunia felt anything close to love for me, she never let on. I never felt loved in that house, Headmaster. I was an obligation. If you had some misguided notion that Petunia could overcome her resentment, sir, you were wrong."
The portraits all watched silently as Harry finished talking. He hadn't even realised he'd shot up from his chair.
Dumbledore's eyes swelled with tears. They trekked slowly down his cheeks, into his beard.
"I thought you'd forgiven me," Dumbledore said in a thick voice.
"I thought I had, too. But you keep lying to me. You don't have to be afraid anymore," Harry said earnestly. "And you don't have to do everything alone. You need to start opening up and have faith in the rest of us. Sir, me and the other Champions, we have so many memories, and they're useful. You have information, and that's gold. You're playing with our lives, and you're not giving us the tools to help ourselves. By not trusting us, you're not even trusting yourself."
Dumbledore nodded, swallowing hard. The tea tray and snacks lay between them, forgotten.
"Tell me the final piece of the puzzle, Headmaster. I already know I am the final Horcrux. Tell me the last secret of Voldemort's immortality."
Dumbledore straightened up. He pulled the tea tray towards himself. Harry waited patiently for Dumbledore to pour them both a cup of tea, making Harry's as he preferred. Adding copious amounts of sugar to his own. Harry leaned over and picked up his cup. He knew Dumbledore was using the time to gather himself, organise his thoughts. Harry would not let the Headmaster get away with prevaricating any longer. He had the bare bones of a plan but needed to know the final piece of the riddle, pardon the pun, to defeat Voldemort. Harry would always fight; it was not in him not to. But that didn't mean that he didn't want the peace afterwards. Even soldiers wanted harmony. As a soldier, Harry knew the value of family, having lost enough of them during his various lives. This life was different. He was not anonymous like he usually was. He was a child of prophecy. Apart from having to vanquish Voldemort, Harry hoped that he could have what Lucius had. A family of his own. A wife. Children. Harry could only dream.
Dumbledore heaved a great sigh, and Harry knew he was ready to talk finally.
"You said that Severus and I are not so different. You are not wrong. However, even you must see the similarities between Tom and yourself. You both grew up with people who didn't understand you, forcing you to deny your true nature. You both grew up with people who resented you and were happier in your misery. Neither of you found love in your childhood. And both of you couldn't wait to leave behind the world of muggles and embrace your magical heritage. In this, Severus' childhood isn't different from yours or Tom's."
Harry clamped down on his impatience at Dumbledore's rambling. Harry already knew more than he would have liked to about Tom Riddle, but it seemed Dumbledore couldn't escape this part of his nature. It must be the teacher in him. Or maybe he was truly getting it all off his conscience.
"The difference between all of you? Tom never found friends, never found love. He never had the tolerance for either. I can only theorise that this might be because his mother had his muggle father under the influence of a Love potion. Theirs was not a union based on true love, not like your parents, Harry."
Harry took a sip of tea, and he absently contemplated that point. Dumbledore was effectively saying that Voldemort was born a psychopath because his parents weren't in love. He'd grown up manipulative and learned to be charming and charismatic, helped no doubt because of his attractive looks, looks he'd inherited from his muggle father. Harry held back a snort at the irony of that. Tom had despised his muggle heritage, but his muggle heritage actually gave him the power he held. Had his mother married another pureblood, Harry had no doubt he'd have had even less magical power than his mother, Merope, did. It was that influx of fresh blood that had awakened the power in him.
The Malfoy family had touted Pureblood rhetoric, but it was a little-known secret that they only remained Pure because they carefully selected half-blood partners throughout their family history. It was one of the reasons they remained powerful wizards; otherwise, they too would have gone mad due to inbreeding like the Blacks almost were, as the Gaunts had.
Tom Riddle had been born a psychopath because Riddle Senior had been under the influence of a Love Potion and became a Sociopath because he'd split his soul, lost his sanity and any semblance of wanting a normal life.
"Tom never had tolerance for friends, Harry. Only acquaintances. People he could use to do his bidding. In that, Severus was quite different. For he found a friend in Lily from a young age as did you. Both Severus and Tom are quite powerful wizards in their own right, Harry. As are you. The difference between all of you is that you never wanted to be known for your power as they did."
Harry nodded in what he hoped was a sage manner, trying not to let his exasperation show. Dumbledore was certainly taking the long way round to make his point.
The Headmaster must have sensed something in Harry's demeanour because he said, "Just be a little more patient with an old man, Harry. This is very important for you to understand."
Harry let out a breath and dipped his head in apology. He placed his now empty teacup onto the Headmaster's desk. He'd wanted Dumbledore to talk, and the old man was probably more than he had in a long time. And this was, as the Headmaster said, important.
"Tom always wanted to show he was more powerful than everyone else, that he was able to push the boundaries more than anyone else was able to. He wanted everyone to acknowledge that he was superior. He wanted to be the leader that everyone came to. But he also wanted to keep his knowledge to himself. He had no friends, but there was a select handful that he confided in. Not because he trusted them, but because it showed his superiority. Tom spent a lot of his time researching his family. As you know, he despised his muggle heritage and had no compunction in denying that part of himself. Once he discovered magic, he did not look back. He pushed his magic further than anyone else dared to. He hated that his pureblood mother could not save herself using her magic and took the necessary steps to stop that from happening to himself. He feared his death, Harry."
Harry acknowledged this but still had to bottle his irritation. He knew all this. Why did Dumbledore insist on dragging it all out? The answer came to him suddenly. Dumbledore was afraid to tell him. He was afraid to voice aloud the horrendous actions Riddle had taken to secure his immortality. Dumbledore was never one to give the easy answer, always made the other person work for it. But this was different. Riddle's actions must truly be heinous for Dumbledore to stall for so long.
With this epiphany, Harry felt his impatience melt away.
"What do you know about the Protean Charm, Harry?"
Harry thought carefully before he answered. Hermione had used the charm to connect all their coins for the DA. He'd speculated at the time that what Hermione did with the coins, Voldemort did with the Dark Mark, to which Hermione had advised that that was she'd got the idea from. Sirius and his father had also used it on the Mirrors they used to call each other. In fact, the leather bracelets the Champions wore had also been spelled with the same charm with an inbuilt Location spell.
"It's a light-based charm, primarily designed and used for communication," Harry answered carefully, feeling a dread settle in his stomach.
"How is a Horcrux made, Harry?"
"Murder," Harry said, paling, the truth slowly dawning on him as he pieced it together.
Dumbledore stood up from his desk and walked to the showcase where he'd displayed the Sword of Gryffindor. Tapping a panel to the side, he revealed a hidden drawer. Harry saw the damaged diary he'd destroyed in second year and another notebook. Dumbledore took out the second notebook and turned around to place it gingerly in front of Harry.
Harry eyed it warily.
"Voldemort has pushed magic further than anyone dared to. He has accomplished much that others had not even dared to dream of. As you said, to split your soul murder, cold-blooded and remorseless murder is necessary," gesturing to the notebook in front of him, Dumbledore continued, "and Tom had already shown from a young age that remorse is not something he ever bothered with. This notebook shows detailed preliminary research of how he sought to accomplish his ambition to immortality."
"Where did you find it?" Harry asked. Now he was the one prevaricating.
"The Chamber of Secrets," Dumbledore said wearily. "I believe when Tom had come to discuss the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts for the second time, he made a slight detour to the Chamber to hide this. Given the content, I doubt he would trust any of his Death Eaters with this, as he did with the diary. When my dear friend Nicolas had suggested that we open the Chamber of Secrets to harvest the basilisk, I did not expect to find this cache of information. But perhaps Killian did. As much as she denied it, I do believe it was her idea to enter the Chamber. Alas, it matters not who wanted to go down there and for what reason. It was an unexpected boon, and I have spent the better part of the year translating the runes and solving the puzzle of Tom's path to immortality."
Harry ignored the notebook in front of him.
"We opened Chamber of Secrets last year. Why didn't Voldemort think we would discover it whilst we were down there?"
"Who says he didn't try to stop us?" Dumbledore questioned. "How many times has Hogsmeade been attacked in the last two years?"
Harry thought furiously.
"But the Dementors attacked before we went down to the Chamber for the first time," Harry protested.
"The plans for entering the Chamber were months in the making, and that includes the little test your Defence teachers set up and given the scale of that project, I'm sure you remember the number of people involved, we were very lucky that real Death Eaters did not infiltrate us. That is largely, I admit, thanks to Killian and her abilities. The first step was to remove the basilisk and smarten the Chamber. Voldemort was afraid when we started to clean up that we might come across his works. It is not unfeasible that despite our cautions, he might have got wind of the fact that we were planning on venturing down and attacked accordingly; no doubt he was testing our defences."
Harry admitted the likelihood of that.
"Do you think he knows that we've found out his secrets?" Harry asked.
"I think Voldemort is too arrogant to think we'd ever find his hidden plans. It took great creativity from myself, the Flamels and Alastor to locate this, and with the help from the parseltongue disk, we managed to pry open that which Voldemort did not want to be found. But he is also over-cautious and perhaps wanted to retrieve his work before he thought there was any danger."
Harry was sure that Dumbledore sounded smug. He reluctantly brought the conversation back to the real matter at hand.
"What did Voldemort do?" Harry asked quietly.
"He pushed the boundaries of the soul and magic even further. He created… He tethered his soul, using the magic of his followers, connected through the Dark Mark. He used the ritual to create the Horcrux and combined it with the Protean Charm and a Binding Spell. The magic of his marked Death Eaters anchors him to this world. Every life they take in his name, without remorse, only connects him further to them."
There was a fire in Harry's belly. He felt like someone had cast an Acid Boiling hex in his stomach. There was bile rising up his throat. He doubted Voldemort's Death Eaters would ever have held their arms out to be Marked if they knew truly what they were committing to. Voldemort must have prepared the Horcrux ritual to a point, that night when he'd come to kill Harry, to use his death to Mark a new recruit. When the Killing Curse had backfired, a piece of Voldemort's soul had broken off and entered Harry.
"Harry," Dumbledore began hesitantly, interrupted his thoughts. "The Founders were able to remove the Mark from Lucius. Would they be able to do the same for Severus?"
Harry looked at the Headmaster blankly for several heartbeats.
"Is that why you wanted me to forgive him so badly?" Harry said in a vacant sort of voice.
Dumbledore flinched and nodded, looking away from Harry.
Harry didn't answer straight away.
"No," Harry said in a firm voice. "They won't be able to."
Dumbledore opened his mouth to argue, looking back towards Harry, but Harry ploughed on.
"The Vow we made to the Founders overrides everything else. Our souls belong to Hogwarts. That commitment came first. In every sense of the word. That negated Voldemort's bastardisation of Soul Magic. Snape's soul belongs to Snape. He willingly signed himself over to Voldemort, and he accepted the Dark Mark intending to follow Voldemort for whatever Voldemort promised him in return. Lucius also took the Mark willingly, but his soul was already spoken for. When he renewed the Vow, he let Magic continue to devote himself to the Founders. Plus, you might not have realised, despite how easy the Founders made it look, it took a lot out of them. That's why we've not been able to speak to them since they removed the Mark from Lucius. They've never revealed themselves like this before, and their souls can only make an appearance every so often. I very much doubt we'll see them again in this lifetime, Headmaster."
Dumbledore nodded defeatedly, clearly disappointed at the answer.
"Why did you not ask them to remove the Horcrux from you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked quietly. "You realised that you were one when I first told you of Voldemort's creation of them. That was before you realised Lucius was still alive. You could have asked them to remove the Horcrux from you. Your soul was also committed to the Founders. Surely that superseded the Horcrux."
Harry shrugged tiredly.
"I never asked. And given the information we've got now, I'm glad it helped Lucius. He deserves to be free after being tethered for so long."
Voldemort had certainly pushed the boundaries. When the Killing Curse had backfired on him, he'd lost his body, but his spirit had lingered. The Dark Marks had faded but still had done their job of tethering the Dark Lord, stopping him from passing to the other side of the Veil. Voldemort had hundreds of Marked followers. To defeat him, every single one needed to die. That would be the only way to make sure Voldemort never came back.
"Were you planning on telling Snape his life is forfeit?" Harry asked blandly.
Dumbledore winced at the question but nodded his head.
"He deserves to know," Dumbledore acknowledged. "However –"
"Don't tell him," Harry interrupted.
"Harry –" Dumbledore began to protest.
"I'm serious. Don't tell him. Not yet, at least. Perhaps, we can find a way to save him," Harry told him.
Dumbledore looked hopeful for the first time since they'd begun their horrible conversation.
"I've not told anyone else about the Horcrux inside me," Harry continued. "I would prefer to keep that quiet as well, for the time being."
Dumbledore looked as if he was going to protest that as well but decided not to.
"Promise?" Harry demanded, not willing to take any chances.
"I promise," Dumbledore assured him solemnly. "I only say this, Harry. Don't make my mistakes. Your friends are your family. Your family is your strength."
Harry nodded his understanding of Dumbledore's words and the meaning behind them. He bade the Headmaster goodnight, somewhat surprised at how late it was, and left. It was after curfew. He trusted Dumbledore not to say anything for now.
Harry had every intention of going back to Gryffindor Tower when he'd walked out of Dumbledore's office but now felt he wasn't ready to go there yet.
He was already far from Dumbledore's office when he felt the bile rise again, and without warning, he doubled over and vomited all over the floor. He felt weak and clammy. Ill at the thoughts churning in his head. Disgust at Voldemort's perversion of magic. He'd managed to keep it together in front of Dumbledore, but it had not been easy.
"Potter? Merlin, Potter, are you all right?"
Harry heard the voice distantly. He couldn't concentrate. Without warning, he sicked up again, but there wasn't much left in his stomach.
"For fu-" the voice cut itself off. Harry heard the panic in the voice. "Come on, Potter. I'll take you to the Hospital Wing."
Harry was starting to feel coherent again.
"No," he protested weakly. "I'm fine. I'm just – Look, just go back to wherever you were going. I can look after myself."
To prove it, Harry pulled out his wand and cleared away the sick. He didn't need Draco Malfoy hovering over him.
Harry looked at Draco for the first time. The other boy was flushed and uncharacteristically hesitant.
"My dad is still awake," Draco told him. "And his room is closer than your dorms. Let me take you there?"
Harry was about to argue when another bout of nausea overtook him. Draco tentatively took his elbow and guided Harry to Lucius' rooms. Harry dry heaved twice more on the way to Lucius' rooms. Draco looked worried and uncomfortable. Harry himself felt no embarrassment. Perhaps a couple of years ago, he might have been mortified at Draco Malfoy seeing him weak. Now, however, embarrassment was low on his list of priorities. Draco gave a perfunctory knock but didn't bother to wait for an answer and barged straight in. Harry followed at a slower pace, feeling fainter than before. He tried to stop himself from shivering violently but couldn't help it. He cursed under his breath. Dark spots swam in front of him, and he fought hard to keep lucid. He could handle it, he told himself.
"Harry!" It was Lucius. His voice was alarmed. "We need to get you to Poppy."
"No," Harry objected, trying to suppress the trembling. Arms came around his shoulders and guided him inside. The door shut firmly behind him. "I don't need Madam Pomfrey. I don't need the Hospital Wing."
He was led towards the spare room and pushed down, quite firmly, on the bed. Harry sat down gratefully and immediately lowered his head between his knees, taking deep breaths. He felt a comforting hand on the back of his neck. After a few minutes, he felt better and slowly lifted his head.
"What happened? Tell me, what's wrong?" Lucius inquired softly.
OoO
Lucius knew Harry had a meeting with Dumbledore earlier. That meeting didn't usually last this long. Something had happened at that meeting that put Harry in this condition. Lucius had half a mind to storm up to the Headmaster's office and demand what he'd done to Harry. That impulse passed quickly. He wasn't rash. Everything he did, he did with foresight and clarity. And he needed to take care of Harry.
He waited for the boy he loved like a brother, like a son, to answer him.
"I'm sorry, Lucius," Harry muttered, wiping a weary hand over his face.
"I didn't ask for an apology. I'm asking you to share whatever is bothering you with me," Lucius chided gently.
Caspian always had been like that. He'd grown up an orphan, never knowing his parents. They'd never found out what happened to them, whether he was pureblood or muggle-born or maybe something between them both. Malachy had already been part of Hogwarts at the time. Older than his sister by seventeen years, not unlike Draco and Adelaide. Malachy had taken Juno with him whilst he'd been on an errand for Lady Rowena. Apparition had not been invented as yet, so the method of travel had been by either land or air, animals that could be ridden or flown.
It had been several weeks journey from the castle to what was now known as Kilmarnock. There Juno, who'd only been five years old at the time, had found Caspian first. The boy had been hungry and dirty and pathetic and ill. He'd been wary, but no more wary than Sebastian, who'd come back with scavenged food, berries and a stolen flask filled with water that was not fit for drinking.
He'd been fierce and protective of his street brother, ready to defend them both against Malachy, who was older and, more importantly, bigger than him, even ailing as he was. He'd stood firm, planting himself inflexibly between Sebastian and Malachy. Despite his obvious illness, Caspian heaved himself to his feet and stood beside his brother, ready to defend their corner.
Moved to pity and amused at their attitude, Malachy merely replied that he wanted to help. From his reply, Malachy knew immediately that Salazar would be entertained when the waif had replied without thought, "What do you get out of it?"
Salazar always looked for the ulterior motive in everything and would have been proud of this boy's wariness. Caspian had been fiercely independent, even that young, so used to relying only on himself. And he had been dedicated to Sebastian. It had been Juno who had replied, moving forward, slipping her tiny hand into Caspian's dirty one and answered with one word, "Family."
Disarmed, Caspian lost his fierce look and allowed Malachy to help them both. Sebastian had been no less fiercely protective. He had been silent and wary. Malachy let all three children ride his steed whilst he walked beside them. Their journey had been even longer when they had to keep stopping to let Caspian rest. Even then, he fought Malachy, determined to be independent, determined that he would not show his weakness. The difference between Caspian and Harry, however, was that Caspian never apologised. Lucius appreciated neither of his surrogate brother's traits of apologising or independence. He wanted Harry to confide in him. Wanted Harry to let him in. Despite Harry's show of trust, there would always be a part of him that would not show his hurt. But Lucius realised as Malachy had that Caspian had not shown his weakness not because of his pride, but because he hadn't wanted Sebastian to worry. Too, it was true; by denying help now, Harry was not protecting himself; he was protecting someone else.
Focusing on Harry now, he hoped the other wizard would let him in.
"Where's Ade?" Harry asked suddenly, head swivelling around to see if she was close by.
Lucius frowned at the obvious attempt at deflection.
"Sleeping," Lucius answered slowly. "In my room."
"Can I see her, please? I promise I won't disturb her. Please? I just need to see her."
Lucius was about to deny that request, but something in Harry's expression swayed him. Lucius nodded silently, and Harry shot up from the bed and waited impatiently for Lucius to lead the way. Lucius knew that Draco had not left. Neither had Severus. Both of them had, out of concern, and a healthy bit of curiosity had simply hidden out of the way. Harry, in his distressed state, hadn't paid any mind. Lucius hoped he did not consult the wards to check who was in the vicinity.
Lucius allowed Harry into his room. Adelaide lay in the bassinet provided by Molly Weasley, sound asleep, next to Lucius' bed. Harry carefully tiptoed to the bassinet and knelt next to the slumbering baby. Gently, he laid his hand on Ade's chest. Lucius' daughter was a few months old now but still quite tiny. Harry's palm easily encompassed Ade's chest and stomach.
Lucius no longer thought that Harry was trying to deflect from his real problem. With a sudden flash of insight, he realised that whatever Harry had heard in Dumbledore's office had disturbed him badly, and it had something to do with Voldemort. After whatever he had heard, he needed to feel something different. Different from the disgust he had felt after Dumbledore's meeting. If anything could bring peace, it was holding a newborn baby, innocent and free from taint in every way. After Narcissa's passing, Lucius had found solace in holding his daughter. She had soothed his battered heart, much like Narcissa had in her way when he had married her.
"You can pick her up," Lucius said softly
"I – I don't want to wake her up," Harry whispered back.
"Don't worry about that," Lucius told him.
Shooting him a grateful look, Harry stood up and carefully picked up Adelaide, trying not to disturb her too much. Adelaide was startled awake at the movement but quickly quietened down. She did not fall back asleep straight away, staring almost wonderingly into Harry's eyes. Harry, instead of sitting on the bed, knelt right back down next to the bassinet. Lucius knew from the change in Harry's demeanour that he had made the right decision to let the boy hold her.
Lucius stayed where he was.
"Can I ask you something, Lucius?" Harry asked softly, but he was still staring down in wonder at the sleeping babe.
"Yes, Harry?"
"Why did you make Snape their godfather?"
Lucius did not answer immediately. He had sensed no belligerence in Harry's tone. It was a genuine question. He only hoped Severus, who, Lucius had no doubt had heard, did not take offence.
"Because I trust him to protect them," Lucius said simply. "To help him heal. To give him another reason to live."
"Sirius loved my father so much that he chose to run after Pettigrew rather than stay and look after me."
Lucius knew the unspoken question. Should something happen to Lucius, would Severus abandon his godchildren to avenge him? Or would he stay with them and protect them? Lucius knew the answer to that. Severus would not avenge Lucius not just because he was not reckless like Black. But because he did not have the same depth of feeling for Lucius that Black had for James Potter. He had not even done the same for Lily, and his dedication to Lily was unrivalled. Unlike Black, whose rage was explosive, Severus turned his rage inwards toward himself. Severus also had the unfortunate trait to lash out at those who least deserved it when temper got the best of him. Hence, the end of his friendship with Lily.
Lucius was also under no illusion that Severus would take care of Draco or Adelaide if something happened to Lucius. He already knew Andromeda would step in, in that respect. When announcing Severus as his children's Godfather, his intention was to give him something else to focus on. He might not become a full-time parent to Adelaide, but he would ensure she was looked after and protected. And with no negative feelings to distract him as he had with Harry, Severus would do a better job.
"Narcissa asked me to look after Draco. Back in September, just before I got on the train. I told her I would try. Then when I visited her in the Hospital Wing, she handed me Adelaide and asked me to protect both her children. I gave her my promise that I would."
Lucius said nothing as Harry lapsed back into silence. Lucius did nothing to break it.
Harry finally looked up to Lucius and stared at him for an indeterminate amount of time. Lucius held himself still.
"There's something I need to tell you, Lucius," Harry finally spoke.
Lucius heard the sorrow in his surrogate brother's voice.
"And I will listen," Lucius promised.