Disclaimer: No I do not own JKR's Harry Potter series. I just happily kill her characters in fanfiction.
Another Inspiration
Chapter 8
Lessons
"Mr. Potter! You need to wake up. Mr. Potter!"
Chanceux shook Harry firmly, despite her small size, until the sleeping teen arose from his deep slumber. Harry slowly grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and lazily stared at the house elf.
"What time is it?" Harry asked; sleep still having a bit of a hold over him.
"It is six in the morning and Master Riddle expects you in the Loin Room by 7:30 for lessons."
"Yes... Thank you Chanceux."
"Yes, Mr. Potter."
Harry dragged himself out of bed and gave a huge sigh. Harry wondered if Voldemort would be in a better mood today since last night greatly enraged him. Harry also wondered what became of Severus Snape and hoped that by telling the Dark Lord who was the mole was that his standing with the older main rose significantly. Harry knew that Voldemort would an uphill battle and if he didn't play things carefully he would not survive. Voldemort certainly wasn't stupid and probably suspected him of fallacies. Banishing his worries, Harry headed to the bath.
After dressing in thin but strong black slacks, a tight green cotton shirt, and loose black robes, Harry headed to the small dining room for a quick breakfast and then asked Chanceux to lead him to the Loin Room. Harry was twenty minutes early and took that time to look around the huge room. The Loin Room was well lit and the walls were, surprisingly, covered in wood instead of stone. There was a large wooden platform in the center for, what Harry guessed, dueling, a desk with two chairs, and a bookshelf filled with titles relating to hexes, curses, defense, other dark arts, and surprisingly Medimagic.
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Harry wandered around the room, detailing it to memory. For some reason Harry felt at ease here. He would have never thought he would be at ease in his worst enemy's home and he certainly did not think he would even be remotely comfortable around the man himself. Harry removed himself from his thoughts for a moment to let his fingers glide over the titles in the bookshelf. The books gave a strange prick of magical longing towards Harry, particularly one titled Dark Arts for the Dark: Volume I, Creative Killing and Torture by Joseph Kline Rillinger.
Harry pulled out the thick green book, finding that it was light for its size, and sat at the desk to begin reading. He was engrossed on a chapter about spells that were used to turn people's internal organs to mush, how to summon sharp and pointy objects for some extra fun, and some that were even used to close an opponent's lungs, squeeze the human heart, rip open the liver, and even increase or decrease the amount of blood flowing in the victim's veins, when Tom Riddle arrived.
"Potter, I see you have found your first assignment." Riddle stated, his voice ripping through the peaceful silence.
Harry jumped at the sudden sound and turned around to see his new teacher.
"Let us begin by seeing what you know."
Harry followed Voldemort to the platform and took his place across from him.
"As much fun as the Unforgivables are, they shall remain forbidden for the time being. For now, let us keep it simple." Voldemort said, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "First to drop his wand or fall off the platform loses. Ready? Begin!"
"Impedimenta!" Harry started.
"Protego! Stupefy!"
Harry rolled out of the way and shot out the blasting curse he had learned recently, which the Dark Lord easily deflected and quickly shot back a jelly legs jinx.
They cursed and hexed each other for the next five minutes in a rapid succession of simple spells until Voldemort ended it with an 'Accio Harry's wand' which Harry failed to block.
"Not bad for a fifth year, but you still have two years of Hogwarts material to go through, plus the spells necessary for the Dark Order."
Harry looked a bit despondent at the thought of going through that much material with Voldemort and wondered exactly how long it would take.
"Do not worry Mr. Potter. We certainly are not going to go over everything Hogwarts considers important. As far as I am concerned I would rather you learn to defend yourself before any other magics." then muttered, "Merlin knows Crabbe and Goyle don't know anything besides curses…barely"
Harry smirked, while his master went somewhere in his mind to most likely draw up a list of Death Eaters who he wished were dead, but unfortunately held use to him alive.
"Now I want you to read the first two chapters in that book, along with the first chapters in your year six Defense, Charms, and Transfiguration books, which would be in the Hogwarts section of the library. You have two days to learn the theory and spells, and I want a one-foot paper for each of the Hogwarts books on the practical uses for each the spells mentioned. Be creative. I am sure you can handle this, but if you absolutely need help, come find me. I have high expectations of you Mr. Potter and I will make a decent wizard of you in less than a year's time, even if it kills you. Do not disappoint me."
With this the Dark Lord left the room to a wide-eyed Harry.
"I guess I better get to work…"
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It was on the second day when Harry was finally stumped. Defense was simple, Charms he eventually got (after many failed attempts to do the Bubblehead charm), but Transfiguration always seemed to be harder than it should and conjuring a teacup seemed impossible. He couldn't even get a white blob to appear much less an entire teacup. Harry went over the passage once again and of course it said the same thing, "picture what you want to conjure and clearly say 'obtestari velle' while sharply moving your wand to the left, parallel to the floor." Frustrated, Harry began to pace about his room. He really could not figure what he was doing wrong. More than ever Harry wished Professor McGonagall was here to teach him, but it seemed he would never again see her in a classroom setting, only on the battlefield. Harry continued to pace with thoughts of "…but if you absolutely need help, come find me." How hard could it be to get help from his tutor? Apparently the idea seemed scary and Harry could not muster enough courage to look for the man whose purpose was to teach him.
Oh for all of Hermione's wisdom, where is she when you actually need her? Oh yeah, that's right, YOU went to the "dark side" and I doubt she would help if you groveled at her feet. Damn…looks like I will have to ask 'him' or suffer his displeasure tomorrow—something I would really like to avoid. The dilemma of my life…
Nervously Harry went outside his room and began to wander the halls. He could just ask Chanceux where the man was lurking, but he needed to familiarize himself of the grounds. It wasn't like he had a lot to do. Not having any other distractions helped quite a bit and the homework load did not seem so bad. Harry had finished all of his essays and actually had fun 'being creative'. It also helped he didn't have to do any potions, which would of drove him up a wall, and he was sure he would not of lasted more than a week.
Harry traveled around the manor and found it to contain four floors, five towers, and, as it turned out, sixty-five rooms, though Harry suspected there were secret ones and probably more underground seeing how he could never find an unlocked door that led under. Harry opened every door and took note of what they contained and committed the manor to memory.
Harry still had not found his tutor and started to head back towards his room, but was interrupted by the man's voice.
"Looking for me? Or are you just looking for weak spots in the walls so you can attempt to collapse the building on me? Merlin knows I tried to get the ceiling to collapse on Dumbledore's office…on multiple occasions", then mockingly, "but alas, no cigar for me."
Harry smiled at Voldemort, and was gifted with a small smirk in return.
"You know Mr. Riddle; there is a certain pair of twins that used to go to Hogwarts that are brilliant pranksters. Many wonderful inventions they have. Too bad you never went to school with them. You would have been much more successful in your attempts against Dumbledore, but I am sure you could do so now. Hmmm…maybe someday you could do that. You know, a whole unfinished business thing, unless of course you consider that completely trivial now. Anyway I kind of need help on transfiguration and you know you said to find you if I needed help and—"
"Harry."
"Er—yes?"
"Snape was right. You do blather on rather aimlessly."
"Oh…ok."
"You look like an imbecile."
"Yeah…"
"At least you admit it…"
Harry blinked a few times as they both stood in silence.
"Well, let us see if I can teach you how to conjure."
Harry followed Voldemort back to his (Harry's) rooms, since they were closest, and both stood by an idle table across from each other.
Before Voldemort could instruct Harry had to ask him about his ex-potions professor.
"Mr. Riddle, may I ask what happened to Snape? I just wanted to know…"
"Potter, you really should read the prophet. It tells quite a bit of my exploits. Then you would not have to ask. Also, my plans and such are not for your knowledge unless I choose for them to be. If you must know, however, I tortured him till he went insane and dropped off his tattered remains on Hogwarts' doorstep. Now, will you attempt to conjure a teacup so I can help you, unless of course you wish to ask more stupid questions, since I am supposed to waste time on idiotic chatter, WHAT ELSE DID YOU THINK I WOULD DO TO A TRAITOR? INVITE HIM TO TEA?" Voldemort responded, his temper rising with every syllable.
"Sorry sir." Harry said, looking at his shoes in the process.
"WELL! GET ON WITH IT!" Voldemort roared.
Harry nervously tried to conjure a teacup, but he was unsuccessful just the same.
Voldemort took a deep breath, and make an effort to calm down. He would never be able to teach Harry anything if the boy was terrified. Voldemort was quickly finding that the methods of teaching and telling death eaters what to do could not be exactly the same or he really would end up killing him. No wonder the boy was abysmal at potions; Snape had probably made him a nervous wreck, but that would have to change. Voldemort had to teach Harry how to work under pressure. Finally managing to get his blood pressure down, he spoke.
"Ok, first of all, your wand movement is off. You need to move your wand at an 180-degree angle, not the 135 your are doing. Second of all, the author uses proper Latin and does not change the 'v' to a 'w' for you. Try again."
Harry seemed a bit bewildered at the fact that Voldemort was no longer yelling at him, but then quickly proceeded to try again telling himself that everything was right as rain.
Harry tried a couple more times in front of Voldemort and was surprised to see some sort of white shape on the table in front of him.
"Better. Just picture the cup in your mind and concentrate more on what you are making. Make your hands and your mouth remember what the incantation and movements are." Voldemort encouraged.
Harry tried a total of seven times—Voldemort banishing each failed blob as he went—until there was a perfect white teacup.
"There we go, now, how about we try to apply decorations?"
After another half-hour, the table was covered in an assortment of orange, green, and blue teacups and teacups with snitches, brooms, ghosts, and pretty blue flowers.
"Seems you have the gist of this so far. I expect your essays first thing tomorrow morning before we continue your lessons. I assume that is all. Goodnight."
"Mr. Riddle."
"Yes?" Voldemort responded, slightly terse.
"Thank you."
Voldemort gave a grunt in response and left the room, perplexed.
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Eight Months Later
Harry had finally learned his sixth and seventh year material and had learned most of the dark spells needed for the Dark Order. As for the relationship between the two, it rose to a mentor student status and the two got along quite well. Even more surprising was that they actually enjoyed each other's company and had conversations of things besides lesson. Of course the two had their disagreements, and Harry suffered under the Cruciatus curse a few times out of pure frustration on Voldemort's end. As for Harry, he was finding it more and more difficult to remember why he became a Death Eater and almost all of his secret animosity for Voldemort had disappeared. Harry actually enjoyed learning the Dark Arts and most of them really were not that bad, though there were quite a few that were certainly not moral in any case, but probably very useful for interrogating and torture.
Tomorrow morning Harry was to finally begin learning the three Unforgivables. Harry dreaded this lesson, but was also highly excited. He wanted to learn them, but was slightly afraid because this would officially label him as a Deatheater. After this, he would be officially a servant of the Dark Lord and he would have to become what he always swore to fight against. What he always thought was wrong would have to be right. He was going to have to murder and hurt people that he knew, and people that he had never met. It was just a part of being a Deatheater. Harry knew that after he learned these three not-so-simple spells he would have to prove himself and he feared that he might fail. Practicing on animals and house elves was one thing. Doing this to real people was something completely different to Harry and it was something where he would have to erase the difference.
Harry paced around his quarters until he was interrupted at precisely 10:12 in the evening, by a knock on his door. Harry opened his door to find a troubled Mr. Riddle.
"Is something wrong sir?" Harry asked, concerned.
"Nothing for you to worry about. Unfortunately your lesson tomorrow will not be given by me, but by Miss Black, and will be for a few days. You will meet her at her manor at 8 tomorrow morning by Floo, and you will follow her instructions. I expect you to do well and I will not tolerate any negative reports from her."
"Yes sir. Is that all?" Harry responded, hiding his disappointment as best as possible, using his training to be sangfroid in all situations, especially in those of distress. That had been the hardest thing for him to learn and it took him the longest. Learning to be "more Slytherin" in the Dark Lord's eyes had been difficult, but Harry did so none the less.
Voldemort nodded to Harry and said, "Goodnight. Do well tomorrow."
"Goodnight sir, and may your planning go well, for luck is only an illusion."
"Yes…"
Voldemort left Harry's doorway and went back to his study to brainstorm his next move against the Light. Voldemort hoped his next plan would be successful and most of all a big leap for his side in the race for triumph. Voldemort also hoped that with the Boy-Who-Lived on his side that his chances of success would increase. Not only was the boy powerful, but he would bring down the morale of the citizens of the Light and help bring his reign into the near future.
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Harry thought about tomorrow's lesson as he lay in bed. He may have gotten over a lot of his animosity towards Voldemort but the hatred of Bellatrix was just as fresh as the day Sirius died. He knew he had to learn the spells, but he never knew he was going to have to learn them from her. Harry sighed and closed his eyes with a resolve that we would turn off his emotions tomorrow for, if nothing else, Voldemort. With Occlumency and Voldemort's "Slytherin 101" training he could make it through the hours he would have to spend with Bellatrix Black.
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Harry woke up bright and early the next morning and ate breakfast alone in the minor dining room. Harry did not think about the upcoming hours and simply methodically motioned what he did every morning and waited silently in his room as the clock on the wall ticked by and arrived at five minutes before eight. Harry went to the fireplace, grabbed a fistful of floopowder and dropped it into the flames.
"Manor of Bellatrix Black!" Harry clearly stated.
Harry calmly walked into the now green flames and was transported to the home of the one woman he truly hated.
Upon his arrival, Bellatrix herself surprisingly met him, instead of the expected house elf.
"Hello Mr. Potter. It has been a while since our last meeting." Bella said, starting simple.
"Yes, it has." Harry responded, his eyes empty of emotion, voice with nothing more than recited responses.
Yup, he still hates me…not like I should expect anything else, Bellatrix thought.
"Well, I guess we should get started—on to a suitable room, then."
Harry followed her to a room that could only be described as the most beautiful dueling room ever created by wizard or muggle alike. The ceiling was high and arc shaped painted with a scene of angels and devils entangled in war or in more seductive positions. In the middle was a large white marble platform interlaced with spells to give more traction so the duelers would not go slipping about. The rest of the floor appeared be onyx, or something like it. Overall the room took Harry's breath away.
"Beautiful isn't it?" Bella asked, clearly proud of this area.
"Stunning…" Harry responded, dropping his stone mask for a moment.
"Do not worry about damaging anything. Many a duel have been fought in this room and not a single scratch has come to it."
Harry put his mask back on and gave a grunt in reply.
"Well, let us first start with the Imperious curse. I will cast it upon you to see how it's done and I want you to fight it best you can. The idea is to learn to protect yourself against it and to effectively cast it upon another."
Harry nodded to her, and she quickly yelled out "Imperio!" without warning.
"Sit down Potter."
The feeling of a sort of bliss hit Harry.
Hmm…sitting down does sound nice, but…something seems wrong.
"Harry, sit down."
Why would I sit down? Wait…I remember this…no…I will not sit down.
"Sit down, the floor is nice, why don't you sit down?"
No…get out of my head!
"No." Harry finally stated, the spell thrown off.
"Ah yes, I did hear you were quite good at throwing the Imperious curse. Well, lets try this again. I want you to try to throw me off faster this time. IMPERIO!"
"Harry, lay down. You are tired."
I feel so…lax…so…NO!
"Harry--."
"NO!"
Bellatrix smiled at Harry but she wanted to try one more time. It is one thing to resist something you do not want to do, but resisting a command you want to do is something else entirely.
"Alright, one more time and then we can move on. IMPERIO!"
Harry was ready for the curse this time, but the command was something he never expected.
"Harry, hit me."
Confusion hit Harry's eyes for a moment, until the familiar blankness arose. Harry took a step toward Bellatrix.
"Come on Harry, hit me. I know you want to."
Harry took another step forward.
"I killed your Godfather. I certainly deserve it. Hit me."
Harry took two steps, anger starting to show on his face along with the blank look. There were only four steps left before Harry would be range of Bellatrix's face.
"HIT ME!"
Harry closed the gap and pulled back his fist and rammed it towards her face. Bellatrix closed her eyes, waiting for impact. Feeling nothing, she opened her eyes and saw his fist in front of her left cheek.
"What are you trying to prove?" Harry asked.
"Simply that it is harder to ward off something that you want to do." Bellatrix calmly replied.
Harry dropped his hand and stared back at her blankly.
"As interesting it is to watch you struggle with that, let us come back to it later. Now, I want you to use the Imperious curse on me. As for commands, you know what is appropriate."
Harry once again replaced his mask and nodded. Copying her movements, he raised his arm parallel to the floor and pointed his warm at her and yelled "Imperio". A strange sensation overcame him and he realized that it was her. All he had to do was hold on to her presence in his mind and speak his commands.
"Raise your right arm."
Bellatrix looked back at him blankly.
"Raise your right arm." Harry repeated.
Bellatrix then smiled and primly said, "No", then stated, "Use more force with your mind. Try again."
"Imperio! Raise your arm." Harry started, using much more concentration on the command in his mind, than voice.
Bellatrix's right arm twitched.
"Raise your right arm!"
Bellatrix's arm started to move upwards, but stopped short.
"No."
Harry lowered him arm and looked back at her, expressionless.
"Good. We will practice more tomorrow, but so far you are doing exceptionally well. It seems you do have a knack for the Dark Arts, just as Lord Voldemort said. How about we move on to the Cruciatus curse? I know you need help on that one."
"Alright." Harry responded, different that his normal nodding. Harry was actually hoping to practice on her just to show her he could, not to mention to exact a bit of revenge.
"Now I know you are probably hoping to practice on me but I think it would be better if you tried smaller first. A cat should be sufficient."
Bellatrix called for a house elf to bring one to her, and an old gray one was brought back shortly after. She then set it on the floor, placed a body lock spell on it, and then a silencing spell.
"As much as the sounds of helplessness are amusing to my ears, cats do screech quite loudly and a bit too high for my tastes. Now, the easy part is the wand, just simply point it at the cat and say the incantation. The hard part is getting it to work. Like I said before, you have to mean it and anger alone will not do the trick. It may add more spice to it, but it will not work without fully wanting to cause bodily harm. Now, take a try." Bellatrix instructed.
Harry looked at cat and saw that it had large blue eyes that stared back accusingly as if it knew what Harry was going to do. Harry was already quite used to practicing on animals and he had gotten past the remorse part. Unlike Bellatrix, Voldemort did not silence the animals that Harry practiced on. Harry pointed his wand at the cat and imagined it to be a bug, a large worthless bug that should not be gracing this beautiful white floor.
"Crucio!" Harry spoke.
The cat only twitched slightly at the spell.
"Damn…"
"Try again."
"Crucio!"
The cat only twitched, no more than the last.
"Ok, let's try this, imagine something you hate, work yourself up, and imagine getting revenge. Now, memorize that feeling of revenge. The sweet feeling of giving someone their just deserts. Now, try again." Bellatrix instructed.
Harry looked at the cat, a scowl upon his face and one again yelled out, "CRUCIO!"
The cat began to convulse on the floor and twist in random directions. Harry held the spell, fascinated, until a resounding crack filled the air, causing Harry to jump. The cat was no longer moving.
"What happened?" Harry asked.
"Appears she broke her back with all that twisting around." Bellatrix factually stated.
Harry looked the cat, and indeed the spine was at an odd angle. Harry stared at it for a few moments noting the sweat within the gray hair until Bellatrix broke the silence.
"That went well…Now, to successfully cast it upon a human it is much like the Patronus spell that it takes a memory or strong feeling from the past as a basis for the spell. Unlike the happy memories needed for the Patronus charm, for the Cruciatus curse you use that feeling of revenge. Now, I want you to always remember that and if you ever can make it stronger, do so. However, when you cast it upon a human, their magic will push against yours to fight against it, which is why you have to be careful how long you hold the spell, unless you want to drive the person insane that is."
"Ok, so how do you tell how long you can hold it before they lose it?" Harry asked.
"Practice of course! I will let you cast it upon me so you can feel the others presence, much like the Imperious curse, and you will be able to measure with your mind. Any questions?"
"You said people fight back with their magic, but what about muggles? They don't have any magic and they last a while." Harry asked, confused.
"Good question. Some people think that muggles can cause things to happen in times of great distress. I think the muggle term is a 'miracle'. Is that all?"
"Yes."
"Now, you will hold the curse for ten seconds, and then stop. To extinguish any crazy ideas of disobeying me just know that Voldemort will not be pleased if I am no longer any use to him. Start when you are ready."
"Alright…Crucio!" Harry yelled, eyes blazing with the hunger and delight of revenge.
Harry watched her drop to the ground and pull herself tightly into a ball. He held it for ten seconds, and then past, as he became immersed into the feeling of revenge. He watched as she struggled to keep her voice from screaming and he saw her frantic eyes bulging. Finally feeling her rapidly pulsing presence in his mind and remembering that he was supposed to stop at ten, not twenty-five, he removed the spell.
Bellatrix lay gasping on the marble floor; her black hair splashed about the contrasting white, as she took in deep breaths of air to soothe her body's frenzied exigency for life. Her breathing finally returned to normal and she carefully stood back up. She stared into Harry's eyes, hers filled with annoyance, but somehow concern mixed in.
"Harry, I think you need to realize that I said ten seconds, and I meant that literally. At this point in time your control is not perfect nor is your feel of the presence of others. In the future, do not disobey me."
"Sorry…I just…lost it." Harry reasoned, scared that she would want to repay him.
"That is not an excuse Potter. The Unforgivables are unlike other Dark Arts in that they require much more control and discipline of the mind. You have caught the grasp of casting it, but require practice in control. Today I want you to practice on an animal and I want you to be able to hold it for thirty seconds without causing harm to the animal's mind or body. You will find that not only can you see how long you can hold it on an entity by gauging their presence in your mind, but also be able to lessen the power to the point where you can hold it longer, but the victim is still in agony. You are dismissed. Return tomorrow at the same time."
Harry left the room and found his way back to the fireplace. He flooed back to his quarters to brood upon the enigma of Bellatrix Black.
Bellatrix also went to her quarters to brood upon herself. Did she really want Harry to hurt her? Why? She didn't owe anything to the boy. But I hurt him. He has something that only few have. Heart. Everyone I know follows Voldemort or their own ambitions. Never have I met anyone that fights for what is in their heart and I put a burn on that heart. I caused it unbearable pain. Why do I even care? Have no idea. There is just something about him that is worth preserving. Something good. Something beautiful. Something…perfect.
Bellatrix then figured that loneliness was severely getting to her. There was no way in hell she could even remotely like Harry Bloody Potter. Hell, he was just a kid! But still…he was something better than she would ever be, and now she just hoped that his spirit would never be broken. Bellatrix had nothing else left in life, but the hope that there were people like him. So, she resolved herself that all she felt towards this boy of unique wonder was nothing more than a high respect.
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Harry looked at the clock and realized that it was time for lunch and headed down to the dining area to find it already occupied by Lucius and Draco Malfoy, along with Lord Voldemort. Thankfully Harry had chosen to shower and dress appropriately, sorely out of established habit over the months, and appeared as regal as the rest of them.
"Ah, Harry, I am sure you have met the Malfoys correct?" Voldemort cheerfully introduced.
"Yes sir. Mr. Malfoy." Harry said, bowing slightly toward each of the two blonde men.
Harry tried to rack his brain as to why Draco would be here until he remembered the date, April twelfth, and realized it was Good Friday and Hogwart's students were on break.
They ate a fantastic lunch as usual and small talk ensued between bites of luscious veal. After they finished the plates disappeared and they talked for a few minutes over a glass of port. Voldemort then gave a look to Lucius and it seemed a secret conversation went through them
"Draco, go with Mr. Potter to his quarters. I have some business to attend to with our Lord." Lucius drawled on.
"Yes sir." Draco obediently replied.
Harry took a quick glance at Voldemort and stood up.
"Follow me Mr. Malfoy." Harry said, starting for his quarters.
Draco followed silently behind him and did not say a word until Harry's door was closed and both were seated in Harry's den.
"Bloody hell Potter. Quidditch has been horribly boring without you. Gryffindor is a joke."
Harry blinked a couple times, shrugged and decided talking to Draco couldn't be too bad.
"Yeah, haven't been on a broom in ages—been too busy with lessons. Believe me; going through two years of Hogwarts material in eight months is tough, though we do skip some things."
"I wish father would home school me, but he insists I go to Hogwarts. Says it would be better. Bollucks that. Father knows loads more than that school will ever teach me."
"Well, if you think about it, it is better to have you at Hogwarts as an inside source of information. Not to mention you will be able to influence others, but I do see your point."
Draco sighed and took a moment to look around the room and seemed a bit agitated.
"Oh, dear, silly me, is there anything you want? I can order up anything you wish." Harry apologized.
"Firewhisky?"
"Sure, just don't get slaughtered on me. Somehow I think Voldemort would be pissed at me if that happened." Harry replied, chuckling a bit.
"I was joking Potter…I didn't actually think you were actually allowed to. I sure as hell am not."
"Oh well, what they don't know won't hurt them. Chanceux!"
The prim and proper house elf appeared, dedicated to servitude as ever.
"Yes Mr. Potter?"
"Bring us some Firewhisky please."
"As you wish, sir."
In a matter of seconds two glasses and a bottle appeared and the house elf carefully poured the amber liquid into each.
"Anything else Mr. Potter?"
"No Chanceux, dismissed."
Chanceux then departed as quickly as she came and the two boys enjoyed there sudden freedom from the older generation.
"You are not so bad after all, but this is still mental. I would have never thought I would be having a civil conversation with the supposed Golden Boy, and much less a drink. To a prosperous future, then?"
"To a prosperous future."
With this they took a sip and both their ears turned bright red and both gave gasps and coughs as the liquid burned their throats and gave a pleasant tingly feeling in their stomachs. Both looked at each other for a moment before bursting out in laughter. The two spent the next few drunken hours talking and laughing of things of Hogwarts and happy times until Chanceux arrived with dinner to find them both passed out in their seats. Fortunately she also had to give them the message that they would have to find their own ways home and to not expect to see them until tomorrow afternoon. The house elf wrote her message down on a piece of paper and left it on the table. She took a glance at the food and decided to leave a warning charm in case they wanted it later, with that she left them to their snoring, knowing that the hangover tomorrow would be punishment enough.
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At 6am the next morning, Harry's alarm went off, waking the two boys from their alcohol induced slumber.
"Fuck…fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK she is going to roast me alive." Harry said, immediately remembering his lessons and how he was supposed to practice yesterday, not get drunk with Draco.
The blonde one groaned and rolled over on the couch, slamming a pillow over his ears and a muffled "Make it stop…" could be heard.
"Finite Incantatem." Harry finally said, forgetting that he had to actually turn off the magical alarm that resonated throughout all his quarters.
Harry searched a moment and found his glasses in the cushions and took a look around the room. Harry first spotted dinner off on a side table, and then noticed a note on the coffee table in front of him. Picking it up he read the note once, then twice, and gave a sigh of relief.
"Draco…just so you know, you have till lunch to make yourself presentable and appear in your dining room. Seems that they got quite busy and left us to do whatever. Seems fate is with you." Harry told the hiding figure.
"Huh? Harry…what the bloody hell are you talking about…wait, I don't want to know. All I want is silence until my head stops this God-awful ringing." Draco responded in a half-asleep voice.
"Draco, it is 6 am. We passed out in my den. Remember? We got drunk?" Harry told him, getting annoyed.
"That's nice Harry; now please shut the fuck up…"
Draco turned over and appeared to go back to sleep.
"Oh well…his funeral."
Harry wobbled over to his bathroom and was hit by a wave of nausea and immediately threw up in his toilet. After emptying every inch of his insides he undressed and headed over to take a nice bath before attempting to practice.
"Merlin…I am never doing that again…"
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Draco finally arose, and then momentarily panicked before remembering something about a loud noise, that he was off the hook and he had till lunch to get home and appear decent. Draco looked at the clock and saw that the time was 6:52 in the morning. Glancing around a bit looking for Scarhead he shrugged and headed off to find the bathroom. After throwing up his insides, cleaning up, and looking disdainfully at his clothes he said screw it and went to borrow from Harry.
The towel clothed prince headed for Harry's bedroom to find a nice row of assorted dead cats on the floor and a frustrated Harry torturing another with the Cruciatus curse.
Draco just stared at the cats, then back at Harry, then back to the cats, shrugged, and proceeded to raid his clothes. Harry did not notice this until the one he was attempting to not kill in less than 30 seconds died and he set it beside the others. Harry looked up and was perturbed as to why there was a naked Draco standing there pulling on his favorite black pants, without underwear.
Draco finished pulling them on and then continued to move through Harry's clothes.
"What are you doing…"Harry asked, darkly.
"Getting dressed. What has you in such a bad mood?"
"Me? Oh! This…yeah...that...well, you see, I was supposed to practice yesterday, but I got sidetracked with the whole getting drunk thing and she is going to have my hide today…"Harry rambled on.
"She?" Draco asked.
"Oh, Bellatrix Black. Voldemort has been busy lately so I got thrown over to her for lessons. I hate it, but that's life." Harry explained.
"Oh! Aunt Bella! Haven't seen her in ages! How is she? I heard about Rudolphus. She must be awfully lonely." Draco amiably chattered on, pulling on a ruby colored shirt of Harry's.
"Look Malfoy…there is something you have to understand. To put in bluntly, she killed my Godfather, and I have not forgiven her for it, and I never will."
"Oh…sorry, what was his name?" Draco innocently asked, trying to be somewhat comforting.
"Sirius…Sirius Black." Harry answered.
"You mean the guy everyone was going on about in third year!"
"Yeah…"
"Well…something sounded fishy about the whole thing, I mean, Mother sometimes goes on how he is a traitor and that if I ever do that she will kill me on the spot, so I assumed it was the ministry being daft as ever, but I guess he was alright from your standpoint then. I never knew him, so I can't say."
"Was the closest thing I had to family, so it hurt to lose him. Anyway, enough of that. Wonder what time it is…"
"7:46"
"Thanks…I need to get rid of these," he waved to the dead cats, "and get going. Hang out here if you want, but don't forget to show up for lunch at your home. Come by anytime if you like, but I would check to see if I am busy or not. Never know these days. Well, have a good day Draco."
"Potter, you do realize you have just declared us friends after years of animosity between us, and for some reason that doesn't bother me in the least. Good show. Happy times at lessons though it sounds like that won't be happening anytime soon."
"Nope," Harry said, while banishing the cats one by one, "I don't think learning the Unforgivables from anyone would be much fun, especially when you are the guinea pig. Thank Merlin she assumed I had seen and experienced the Cruciatus Curse enough to know the basics, which is correct by the way."
As Harry said this Draco's eyes widened slightly. Harry then sighed and continued, "Draco, I would love to chat more, but I don't want to be late. See you some other time."
"See you later…"Draco responded, eyes distant.
Harry walked over to the fireplace and flooed over to Bellatrix's manor for the second day of lessons on the Unforgivables.
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"Good morning Mr. Potter." Bellatrix chirped.
"Morning…" Harry replied, clearly in a bad mood.
"Why, aren't you the Easter Bunny today!"
Harry glared back at his teacher.
"Alright, what is the problem Potter, can't get anything done if you are like this." Bellatrix asked, now serious.
"I'm fine."
"Potter, for Merlin's sake you look like shit."
"And your point?"
"Ok, then lets do this the hard way. You have till the count of five to tell me what's wrong or I start using Unforgivables. One."
Harry stayed silent.
"Two…Three…four."
"I have a hangover." Harry stated, plainly and simply.
Bellatrix looked at him for a moment before shaking her head and muttering about men and their stupidity.
"Follow me Potter."
Bellatrix led him to study that pretty much looked like a tornado had gone through it, but Harry did not comment. She went over to a cabinet filled with many bottles of liquor and she pulled out a large bottle of pink liquid and a small glass. She then poured the substance into the glass and handed it to Harry.
"Drink this."
"What is it?"
"A cure for hangovers."
"Who made it?"
"Severus."
"Rule number one for Gryffindors; don't drink anything made by Severus Snape."
"Potter, drink it. It's not poisoned."
"I don't drink anything from Snape."
"Fine, IMPERIO! Potter, drink the potion."
Harry blankly looked at the glass and slowly drank its contents. Bellatrix then released the spell and continued to glare at Harry, a glare that would have made even Snape blush.
"Now, hopefully you will stop being an insufferable brat and we can get on with this." Bellatrix chastised.
She stormed off towards the dueling room and Harry hurried after her. Somehow Harry thought he might have gone too far with the Snape comment and that today was going to be worse than expected.
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That was officially the worst day of Harry's life. Not only did she chew him out for not having learned what she asked, but she forced him to torture cat after cat until he did. After that she brought out a muggle woman and Harry was to practice on her to further recognize another presence's mind and how far and how fast it would go at the rate and power level Harry was using. The worst thing was how innocent she looked. She had dark brown hair, freckles, dark green eyes and was no older than nineteen. By the time Bellatrix told Harry to stop her eyes gazed lifelessly to the ceiling. When he had asked if she was dead he was horrified to know that she wasn't, but had lost her mind. He had done this. He had done to this woman what she had done to the Longbottoms. Bellatrix then asked Harry to kill her using the Killing Curse. It took him a total of seventeen tries before the spell succeeded and she was dead. It was late before he was allowed to leave and he was never allowed a break during the whole entire session. As much as Harry knew he should eat when he collapsed in his bed that night, he just couldn't. Bellatrix had made him a murderer. It was something he could never take back and it was something he would have to do again. In all the eight months Harry had been a Deatheater, he had been blissfully ignorant. Harry could no longer ignore what being a Deatheater really meant, and suddenly Harry thought back to the dark filled day when he reasoned that he could join Voldemort's ranks and everything would be easy. What had he been thinking? Words of Severus Snape once again came into his mind and he realized that the man was right. Harry was naïve. A newfound respect replaced the long placed hate he felt for Snape. The man may have been hard on him, but Harry wanted his memory to be greater than 'just a sacrifice'.
Harry finally closed his eyes to find escape but he could not sleep through the haunted helpless screams and the lifeless eyes that stared at such a beautiful ceiling. Harry dreaded the morning, for he would have to go back. Back to her. Back where the screaming would be reality.
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AN: Well, that ending was a bundle of joy. Again, so sorry for the wait. It is summer now and I will have much more time to work on this though I might be leaving sometime next week. Please review and be prepared for a much darker version of Harry for a while. Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter and I would name everyone but I am much too tired to look. Also, Whit (Moderndayzarcon), could not of done this without you. I give you Nilla Wafers and Ginger Snaps. Love ya sis! Next chapter is…oh what was I going to call that thing…oh yeah, 'Raids'. Night everyone.
NOTE: 135-degrees is 45 to the left in case you are confused. Also, sorry about the Regulus mistake. Already fixed it. I had deleted his name in the first spot but forgot to delete it in the second. Silly me.