Ascension: The Silver Spears

by Define Anachronistic

(AU) Harry Potter is different. No one is more aware of this than him. His relatives acknowledge his existence only when necessary and despite growing up surrounded by creature comforts, everything he has ever owned is either a hand me down, stolen, scavenged or lent to him out of pity. He has no one to rely on. He tells himself that he prefers it that way. But no man is an island.

4. Chapter 4

INTERLUDE

As a child, his mother had taught him to never be wasteful.

His father had scoffed at this, having grown in excess, and encouraged his only child to do the same. But he had always listened to his mother. No one else knew her as he did. No one else knew how cunning and ruthless she could be. No one else knew that she was far more than just a woman who had married above her station.

She was the smartest person he knew.

While his father was unstable at the best of times, and dimly confused when he wasn't, his mother was sharp as a blade and hid it behind a docile facade. "Don't ever let people know what you want, my sweet," she had whispered to him one evening when he returned from playing. Some local boys had stolen the conkers that he had painstakingly collected for days, only to throw them in the river in front of his eyes. "Don't let them know until they can do nothing to stop you."

Looking back at one of the worst nights of his life, he could not see a single mistake that he had made. While he had always abhorred recklessness, he found it forgivable, even necessary, when the benefits significantly outweighed the risks. After all, a lack of decisive action could prove costlier in the long run. He was certain, even now, that he had made the right choice.

It had only been a miracle that had saved the boy.

Watching the young Potter now, as he stiffly accepted the adoration of his well-wishers, he could hardly see any of his parents in him. Granted, he had only known them as adults, but he doubted that they had ever appeared as aloof as their son did now. It wasn't what he had expected of their boy.

He silently indicated for his companions to remain in their seats when the hairy brute called his name. Approaching them now and making painful chit chat with the half-breed, he relied on the lessons that his mother had taught him in an attempt to appeal to the boy. It had worked. The cool, unaffected look the child had disappeared for a moment in exchange for a smile.

It didn't last. His curiosity at the child's upbringing had done it. The images of an isolated child appeared clearly in his mind's eye, as though the boy had verbally described them to him. Potter must have sensed his presence, because he withdrew into himself quickly and smoothly exited with the half-breed in tow.

Good instincts.

He watched the boy leave with the beginnings of an idea entering his mind. More of an opportunity really. One that he could hardly believe Lord Dumbledore had allowed to fall into his lap like this.

As he finished his drink and led his faithful companions into Knockturn Alley for their meeting, he couldn't help but think about his mother's first lesson:

Never be wasteful, Tom.