Well, here we are. I must say, I didn't anticipate the bomb coming down quite this hard.
Damn it, Lucius.
Chapter Twenty-One: Pomona and Septimus RenewedHarry could feel Lucius's tension, and his shock. It boiled off him like warm air. Harry watched his face, and saw the slight shudders there, the way that Lucius's eyes wanted to dart off to the side and the way he controlled them and refused to let them do so. Something had come close to splintering the man's mask, probably the near-death of his only child.
Or perhaps not, Harry thought, remembering the dream that had awoken him and driven him out of the Slytherin common room. A dark shadow had stalked towards Draco, who lay peacefully sleeping in his bed, unaware of it. Harry had only come out into the corridor for a breath of fresh air at first, but then he'd seen Lucius standing there, and his dream made much more sense than they usually did.
Lucius finally drew himself together enough to respond. He lifted his chin. "You are not the arbiter of how I should raise my son, Mr. Potter," he said, voice gone cold enough that Harry would not have been surprised to see ice frosting the stones. "We are currently in truce-dance, and I would prefer not to have to hurt you. Stand aside. I am invoking the Officium Auctoris. There is nothing you can do to prevent me from taking my son from the school."
Harry blinked. The Officium Auctoris referred to the eldest living member of a pureblood family's right to decide what was best for the other members. Harry hadn't read of an invocation of it in the last fifty years, since it was generally considered bad form to intervene too drastically in another wizard's life, and a sign of having failed in the dances, that one needed to resort to such a crass weapon. That Lucius would reach for it now was surprising…
And out of character. Harry narrowed his eyes and waited, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Stand aside, Mr. Potter," said Lucius, his voice grown even colder. "You know that you have no authority in this matter."
"I am waiting," said Harry.
Lucius simply narrowed his own eyes further. He didn't need to sneer, like Snape did, Harry thought. He conveyed his authority with his whole body, shoulders and hands and feet at least as much as his face.
Save that he was showing more fear than glacial command now, and Harry found himself glad of it. Frightened people did stupid things, and Lucius having done a stupid thing was the only hope Harry could count on that he wouldn't be forced to yield to him.
"Waiting, Mr. Potter?" Lucius asked, when Harry had made it clear he wasn't moving anywhere.
"For the salt and the smoke and the silver," said Harry, and waited again.
Lucius hissed between his teeth. "I do not need—"
"Yes, actually, you do," said Harry peaceably. "Not if you simply wished to invoke your right to control Draco's life, no. But when you invoke it in the middle of a truce-dance, you need the salt and the smoke and the silver to create a space into which I cannot enter." He clasped his hands together more firmly as he saw the storm building on Lucius's face, and called his magic to rise around him. "My truce is with your whole family, Mr. Malfoy, not merely yourself. If you try to take Draco away without the proper rituals, then I might simply assume that you're an impostor and attack you. And I would be within my rights—in fact, within my duties, in defending a member of your family from an improper Officium Auctoris. A true Malfoy surely would not have forgotten such details. Shall I check you for Polyjuice?" Harry kept to the tone of courtesy, certain that he would win this dance.
And he did. Lucius broke, his eyes blazing with true fury.
"You are impudent, boy," he whispered. "Stand aside, now."
Harry shook his head. "You have no authority to command me to stand aside. We are equals at this point in the truce-dance."
Lucius reached for his wand. Harry lifted all the controls on his magic. Lucius promptly slumped back, gasping, and the slightly glazed look that Harry had expected came into his eyes. Starborn had said his magic called to purebloods. Harry had not imagined the results would be so dramatic.
"Harry? What are you doing?"
Harry looked over his shoulder. Draco had slipped out of the Slytherin common room, too, and his eyes were blinking in sleepy confusion, while one hand rose to rub at his face. Then he saw Lucius, and felt the magic in the air, and frowned.
"Father, you didn't," he said.
Harry lowered his magic a little, tucking more of it behind barriers. He hadn't meant to send Lucius into quite this state of…shock, awe, wonder, whatever it was. Luckily, it seemed that Lucius could recover from it quickly. He straightened and gave his head a little shake, and then was burning and clear-eyed again.
"I will not be scolded by my own son, Draco," he said. He's still shaken, a bit, Harry thought, watching him. He would have been able to command Draco's obedience with no more than a look if things were as normal.
And Draco would certainly have obeyed. Instead, he folded his arms and launched into a lecture.
"Has it occurred to you that I'm capable of making up my own mind about my friends, Father?" he asked. "You raised me with the capacity to judge power for myself, and not only in the name of survival. I was supposed to be true to the Malfoy name." His eyes were lit with an emotion that Harry had seen only once before—last year, when Draco had out-danced his father. "And I think I have been. You, on the other hand, have an unfortunate habit of forsaking our honor and leaving it for me and Harry Potter to guard. And now it is happening again." He narrowed his eyes. "Our honor is rather lonely, Father."
Lucius's fury had gone bone-deep now. Harry tensed as he took a step forward. Perhaps this was what the dream meant. He certainly looks ready to hex Draco now.
"I told you," said Lucius, his voice quieter than Snape's had ever been, "I will not be scolded by my own son. I have come to remove you to Durmstrang, Draco. You will be happier there."
"Safer, you mean to say," Draco murmured, and then laughed, a sound so full of choking bitterness that Harry looked at him askance and wondered what he had missed. "Isn't it obvious that I'm safer here, Father? You've felt Harry's magic. You know that he would kill to protect me. He saved my life from the snake." Draco's cheeks were flushed now, his eyes glittering in a match for his father's. "And now you tell me that that's not good enough, that I'll be safer at bloody Durmstrang, in the midst of Dark wizards? That's doubting Harry's ability as well as my judgment. How many more insults will you pile up, Father? Don't you care at all about soothing matters over with powerful wizards? Or is that always going to be my bloody job?"
"Draco," said a mild voice from behind Lucius. "Language."
Draco immediately stood straighter, and the flush disappeared from his cheeks as he inclined his head. "My apologies, Mother."
Harry blinked as Narcissa Malfoy walked around her husband and came over to stand next to him and Draco. Lucius was staring at her in shock equal to what he'd shown on feeling Harry's power. Narcissa gave her son a gentle look and a murmur of, "I shall expect you to guard your tongue better in the future."
Then she turned and gave her husband a glare that made Harry want to duck.
"Did you think I wouldn't follow you out of the house, Lucius?" she asked softly. "If you really distrust me, you should have unhooked me from the Manor's wards. That would not have let me feel you leave."
"What are you talking about, Mother?" Draco asked. "Why would he distrust you?" He shot his father an accusatory glance, which Lucius seemed to be doing his best to ignore.
Harry took a short step backwards. Obviously, this was much more a private family affair than he had realized, and he was sure that Narcissa could take care of her son. He should probably—
Narcissa's gaze darted to him, and she shook her head slightly, even as she answered Draco. Harry blinked and stood still.
"Your father has been receiving letters," said Narcissa, and Lucius's face paled further. "They are from someone threatening to resurrect the Dark Lord, and threatening your life in order to make your father cooperate. Your father has gone along with them so far, as I believe he could not see a way out of it. But today he came to the school, and intended, it seems, to abduct you from Hogwarts and take you to Durmstrang." Narcissa paused for a moment, and then fixed her eyes on Lucius and said, "You are an idiot, husband."
Lucius finally seemed to have recovered from the triple shock of his son's defiance, his wife's appearance, and his wife's knowledge. He straightened and moved a hand to his sleeve, as though he would draw his wand. Narcissa rolled her eyes and made a very slight movement with one wrist.
Lucius's wand tore itself from his grasp and sailed to her. Narcissa tucked it away among her robes, and then took a step forward. Harry didn't think it was coincidence that her body shielded both him and Draco from any attack by Lucius.
"Did it ever occur to you," said Narcissa, in the kind of voice she might use to ask what a fine day it was, "that I might be able to help you? That I might be able to understand the intricacies of the situation better than you know, because I have been in almost constant contact with Draco? That I would have understood the threat if you showed me those letters, but I would have been able to think of some way to deal with it?"
Lucius was breathing harshly, his pale cheeks flushed with spots of color. Harry supposed he thought there was no harm in showing emotion now, since his mask had been not just ripped off but stomped on.
"No," said Narcissa. "I can see that you did not think that. Why?"
"You would have reacted blindly if your son was in danger, Narcissa," said Lucius, finding his voice at last. He stood and leveled Narcissa with a glare that actually made Harry feel a bit better. He could think under stress, then. Harry would have felt slightly unnerved to find a Malfoy so broken and beaten back that he couldn't. "Stupidly."
"As you have done?" Narcissa asked.
Lucius opened his mouth, and ended up sealing it again. His gaze went to Harry. Harry returned the gaze calmly. It was Lucius's decision as to what to do. Perhaps his dream wasn't right, and Lucius wasn't a threat. If he moved to be one, Harry would stand ready.
He felt Draco's steady pressure against his right shoulder. Without looking at him, Harry draped an arm around the other boy, and felt Draco relax against him.
Lucius's eyes narrowed, as if that sign of trust and affection had been the banner he was looking for, and he turned back to Narcissa. "He is a child," he said, his voice burning with cold. "You have already seen what our enemies are capable of, Narcissa—hiding in Hogwarts and sending a Dark magical snake to threaten our son, a snake that could have killed him."
Narcissa nodded slowly. "And that shows what our enemies are capable of," she said. "What escapes me is how you have missed what our allies are capable of, Lucius. Harry saved Draco's life."
"He was meant to!" Lucius flourished a piece of parchment at her. Narcissa took it from him and read it. If the contents affected her at all, Harry couldn't tell. Narcissa looked up at the end of it and met her husband's eyes.
"And it never occurred to you that they were lying, to try and save face after their plans failed?" she asked. "That they had underestimated Harry, and didn't want you to know it? I read one of the early letters, Lucius, that mentioned something about Harry not being very powerful. That is obviously not true. Why would you trust them at all?" She folded the letter into four neat squares and held it out to him.
Harry could see Lucius making a mighty attempt to recover himself. It was like trying to steer a plunging Pegasus with only one rein, though. He shook his head, and his temper won out again as he snatched the letter back from Narcissa.
"It is different for you than it is for me," he said. "You know why." He made the smallest of motions towards his left arm.
Narcissa snorted. "Oh, yes. Because you wear an ugly brand, you should let the brand dominate your life and become more important than your family. Very winning behavior, Lucius. You did not let it become more important twelve years ago; why should it do so now?"
"Narcissa," said Lucius in a snarl, his eyes darting to Harry.
"Don't worry, Mr. Malfoy," said Harry calmly. "I've known since my Christmas with you that you were Marked, and that Mrs. Malfoy wasn't." He paused for a moment, wondering if he should say what he was thinking, and then shrugged and gave in. It was best that Lucius know exactly where he had stood. This was a matter too severe for the indirect dances. "And I'm going to make sure that Draco is never Marked."
He heard a hiss from beside him, but he wasn't sure what expression was on Draco's face: surprise, or gratitude, or hope. His gaze was fixed on Lucius's face, and the emotions there. There were too many to see all at once, a storm of them. He wondered how many months Lucius had labored under his lonely pressure, the stress of the letters mounting. He wondered more why the man had never thought to trust his wife, but that was over and done with. What was important at the moment was what was in front of him.
"Thank you, Harry," said Narcissa, her voice warm. "And I will add my voice to yours." She turned and faced Lucius. "You should know, Lucius," she said, casually, "that Draco will never be Marked as long as I live, either."
Lucius flung his head up. He looked like a stag backed against a cliff by a pack of wolves, Harry thought in sympathy. Of course, matters would have been much easier if he had just thought to ask someone before now whether it would be a good idea to trust Harry Potter or the Dark Lord's servants.
"You have chosen your side, then." Lucius carefully enunciated his words, his eyes looking only at Narcissa this time. He had gained that much control of himself, then. "I did not think it would be so soon. There are still reasons to follow the Dark Lord, Narcissa. You know them as well as I do."
"I do," said Narcissa. "And were it not for certain things that have happened this year, then I would even agree with you that we should consider those reasons. But those things happened." She turned and looked directly at Harry this time, not seeming nervous that her husband would strike at her back. "Harry," she said. "I felt your power. I have heard from Draco that you never intend to become a Lord. That is true, isn't it?"
Harry nodded.
Narcissa nodded back. "Then I am your ally," she said.
"That is impossible," Lucius snarled from behind his wife. "Anyone who has the kind of power the boy does must become a Lord, but he is not that yet, and will not be for many years. He would die if he faced the Dark Lord."
"He has faced the Dark Lord twice, Lucius," said Narcissa softly. "Once at the end of first year, and once in the Chamber of Secrets."
Harry blinked at her. "How do you know about that?" If she knew that he and not Connor had banished Tom Riddle…
Narcissa gestured to Draco. "I listen to my son."
Harry relaxed. If Narcissa got the story from Draco, she would have heard only the carefully modified versions that he told most people, and in both of those, Connor was the hero of the story.
"He would still die if he faced the Dark Lord in full power," Lucius interjected stubbornly. "And that is what will happen." He paused for a moment, as though trying to recover some of the coolness he had lost, and then plunged ahead. "You know this, Narcissa, since you have read the letters. This group may be small, but it is determined. They will resurrect the Dark Lord in the end, and then how will you face him, Potter?" He was all but snarling at Harry. Harry remembered the expression from when Lucius had faced his parents in Diagon Alley last year. "Not the pitiful remnants of him that may have been in that diary, but the real thing?"
"The same way I have so far, sir," said Harry quietly. "With my brother, who defeated him once before—and as a far younger child than I am." He had decided it was no use disputing Lucius's classification of him and asking the man to call him an adult. He would simply adopt it, adapt it, and use it as necessary.
"You think that." Lucius sneered. "I think it far more likely that you would die, and your allies with you."
"That's funny, Father," said Draco, all perfect, bright brittleness. "I didn't think you were so eager to see me die."
Even Harry winced at the look on Lucius's face when Draco said that. Lucius drew in a thick breath, as though shards of something were caught in his throat. Then he knelt and held out a hand. "Draco," he said. "Look at me."
Draco stirred at Harry's side, but from the motion, he'd simply pressed his face into Harry's shoulder.
"I came here to save you," said Lucius softly. His extended hand trembled. His voice did not. Harry had some idea of what that mastery cost him, and was properly impressed. "I promise, Draco. I would never leave you here to die. I was going to keep you out of the battleground that Hogwarts will become. You will go to Durmstrang, and be safe there. I promise it."
"No," said Draco softly. "I don't want to go. I want to stay with Harry."
"I am your father, Draco," said Lucius. "You will go if I say you will." Already, Harry could see, he was trying to force himself past that moment of vulnerability. His face was tightening, turning sharp and chill.
"Then I have no part in my son's fate?" Narcissa asked. The very softness of her voice was a danger signal. Harry backed up a step, pulling Draco with him.
"Stop this, Narcissa." Lucius tried to sound commanding. It didn't work. "I am making the only possible decision for all of us. We will not die. We will stand on the winning side—"
"With all due respect, Mr. Malfoy," Harry asked, "how is that possible if pulling Draco out of Hogwarts isn't what these enemies want you to do?"
Lucius narrowed his eyes at him. "The Dark Lord will return," he said. "I have no doubt of it. I merely intend not to see him return this way."
Harry made a sound of surprise that turned into a chuckle halfway through, and rather choked him. Lucius went on glaring. Harry got himself under control and glanced at Draco, whose eyes were shining with perfect agreement. "Do you want to tell him," Harry asked, "or should I?"
"Oh, you," Draco urged him. "I don't think he would take it as well coming from his own son. You've already seen how my insults devastate him."
Lucius growled. Harry nodded to his best friend and turned back towards that best friend's father, determined to keep his smile small and his voice as diplomatic as possible.
"Mr. Malfoy," he said gently, "you've already chosen your side. I know what the Dark Lord was like in the last years of his reign, and I've faced him twice, as your wife told you. Do you really think that he would forgive treachery against an attempt to bring him back?"
Lucius went still. His extended hand stopped trembling, and his eyes went on staring with no sign of the emotions under the surface. But Harry knew what the stillness was a sign of, and pushed forward.
"You stand with us," he said. "Your concern for Draco shows that. I can't believe that you would really hurt him to get him to leave Hogwarts. That's why you came in and tried to abduct him in the first place, instead of use a coercive spell to bring him home. I can't allow you to do harm to his free will, either, of course. But perhaps I didn't need to worry about that. I think you always knew what side you were on. You just needed an announcement to make you see it."
Lucius was utterly still for a moment longer. Then he began to breathe wildly. Harry shifted, ready to step in front of Draco if he needed shelter from a sudden burst of magic.
"You dare accuse me of doing harm to my son's free will?" Lucius whispered. "You dare?"
Harry frowned, wondering why that statement out of all of them was the one Lucius had taken exception to. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy," he said slowly. "I saw a shadow in my dreams just before you arrived. The shadow was threatening Draco. I don't think now that you would physically hurt him, but you did intend to take him away from Hogwarts when it wasn't his choice to go."
"And what do you think you have done to him?" Lucius asked in a steadily rising voice, as he stood.
"Father, no, don't," Draco said abruptly. His voice was small, and desperate, and went utterly ignored.
Harry clenched his fists. "What have I done to him?" His own voice sounded like a distant gong in his ears, competing with his heartbeat.
"You've changed him," said Lucius flatly. "My son is not the same now as when he went to Hogwarts, and the change happened immediately after he met you. Your magic is too strong, Potter. You will wind up a Lord, whether you want to or not. You have already compelled Draco into changing into someone else, something else, merely to fulfill your desires to have a pet."
"No," Harry whispered.
But he turned and met Draco's eyes, and saw them widen, and knew there was at least some truth in what Lucius had said. And his mind leaped then, and made the connection with the last time Draco's voice had sounded that desperate.
When Hermione nearly told me…
"My magic doesn't just attract other wizards," he whispered. "It compels them. And I didn't know."
"Is not knowing an excuse for doing it?" Lucius pounced on his words like a wolf. "It has happened, Mr. Potter. My son is not the same person as he was. I would wager that many people near you are not the same people they would have been without your interference, your influence." He laughed sharply. "At least the Dark Lord was honest about who he was, and what he wanted. He wanted to change our world. You have altered and twisted and broken minds for no reason other than a mere child's desires to be safe or comfortable or have friends."
"Lucius," said Narcissa, her voice deadly.
Harry didn't hear what happened next. His world was falling around him, the careful justifications he'd built to keep from panicking since the release of his magic. He had compelled people. All his fulminations against Dumbledore had been for nothing. How could he be angry at the Headmaster for binding him, when he had bound others? Not wanting to do it was not the same thing as not doing it. He had thought he had some time before he began to possibly compel people with the force of his magic alone, but it seemed he did not. His magic had done that even when itself compelled to obedience by the phoenix web. What was going to happen now that it was free?
He swept his magic around him, wrapping it as close as he could, and then put it to a good use for once, sending himself to a place where compulsion was practiced all the time, and so where he would feel most at home.
He felt Hogwarts' wards against Apparition trying frantically to resist him, but Harry smashed straight through them, his body bending, his mind twisting, and then the room vanishing behind him.
Lucius had only a moment to enjoy his victory before Narcissa's palm connected with his face.
She had chosen the slap carefully, he knew, and had hit him in such a way that the handprint would be highly visible, and red. He had heard the wandless spell she hissed under her breath, and knew the handprint would not fade. Lucius took a stumbling step backwards and touched the handprint. He felt numb. In all the years of their marriage, Narcissa had never hit him this way. It was how a Dark witch marked her husband for doing something savagely, unforgivably stupid. He would wear the marking until she chose to take it off.
Narcissa stepped away from him, eyes wide and brilliant and still. Draco was shattered, staring at the spot where Potter had been, his hands clenched in front of him. His wife moved so that she entirely shielded their son from Lucius's sight. Those brilliant eyes fixed on him.
"I informed Draco about the possibility of his being compelled by Harry's magic months ago," she said, enunciating every word. "He took appropriate steps, and in the end decided that he was free enough to continue being Harry's friend. But he waited to tell Harry until he could find the words. And now you have undone that, Lucius, and possibly overset the fragile mind of a very powerful and very unstable young wizard." She paused, and the silence burned. "Congratulations," she said at last.
Lucius said nothing. He didn't lower his eyes from his wife's, but he didn't say anything, either. He was feeling the backwash of the magic that Potter had used to vanish now, lapping waves of pain and power.
The boy was stronger than any wizard he had ever felt, even the Dark Lord the night before he had gone to destroy the Potter twins. Lucius felt as though he were bathed in roaring black surf. Every part of his body tingled and began to ache the way that usually only his head did when he faced another wizard's unleashed magic.
Lucius began to glimpse, dimly, then, what he had done.
Footsteps sounded down the corridor, and Severus rounded it at a dead run, his wand drawn. He paused when he saw all three Malfoys, but his eyes swept past the two adults and found Draco. "Where is Harry?" he asked bluntly.
"He Apparated," Draco whispered. "Father upset him."
Severus turned and gave Lucius a look that reminded him of the one he had received last year, when Severus had been carrying Potter to the school in his arms. Lucius lifted his head and met the glare. They weren't Death Eaters anymore. There was nothing Severus could do to him.
Then he remembered some half-read rumor in the paper, that Severus had adopted the boy, or chosen to play legal guardian to him for his own obscure reasons.
Severus would have every right to hurt him for hurting the Potter boy.
Lucius felt his head began to ache more fiercely.
"I am not going to kill you," said Severus. "Harry would not like it. I will leave you to contemplate your own stupidity, Lucius, and to explain to the Headmaster what that blast of magic was, when he comes looking. I am going to search for Harry." He turned on his heel and strode away, his robes snapping around him. Draco wriggled out from behind Narcissa and ran after him.
That left Lucius alone with his wife. Narcissa did not move as she stood there, and her eyes never wavered.
"You do not deserve a second chance, Lucius," she said at last, her voice cold and pitiless. "You should have consulted with me the moment the letters began arriving, the moment you noticed that Draco was drawn to Harry by the strength of his magic. You have interfered in your son's friendship and broken my word. I promised that no one would hurt Harry or Draco, as long as Draco was sure that this friendship came about of his own free will.
"You do not deserve it, all things considered," she went on thoughtfully, after a pause, "but you will be given it, because you are Draco's father, and my husband, and, as Harry pointed out, his ally by your own actions." She extended a hand.
Lucius stared at her palm. Dare he clasp it? He had been humiliated as never before today, and normally he would have been imagining the vengeance he would take on the ones who had done it. Now, however, there was only the thick, cold taste of shame in his throat.
"For once, Lucius," said Narcissa, her voice forceful and serene, "bend your proud neck. I can help you, but only if you let me."
Lucius reached up and clasped her hand.
Harry sat on the bed in the Shrieking Shack and stared at the far wall, while his mind whirled and cut and danced around thoughts that he had never believed he would think.
He could remember, now, the way that Draco had altered his behavior in first year. He had gone from cool and assured on the Express, and even the first few nights after Harry was Sorted into Slytherin, to a devoted friend. And why? He'd had no choice. Even then, Harry had leaned on his mind, woven his own web, used his magic to force out the kinds of reactions he'd wanted from Draco.
And Snape in the first year? Snape was an Occlumens. Harry was sure he could feel the intrusions of the magic on his thoughts and deal with them. That would certainly account for his volatile attitude. But he had mellowed since then, as he became more used to Harry.
Or the magic mellowed him for me.
Harry swallowed a moan. He'd wanted someone to trust, hadn't he? And his magic had provided it for him. His magic would probably try to give him everything he wanted of others, if he let it.
I cannot let it.
Hawthorn, Adalrico, Dumbledore, his parents, Sirius, Remus…how many of his altered relationships were the fault of his magic? How many of the changes in the people around him could be traced back to that? Had he leaned on Sirius's fragile mind and snapped it more? Had he drawn his pureblood allies to him when they would rather have stood with the Dark Lord, who at least represented the world they had always known and the ideals they would more naturally fight for? Had he committed worse crimes than Dumbledore's, through not knowing what he was doing?
His parents…
He had cast Fugitivus Animus, a Dark spell, on them almost without thought, solely to ease his own pain, because he wanted to slip out of Hogwarts and die in the middle of his released magic. And he hadn't taken it off since, despite plenty of opportunities to do so. He could have removed it at any time during the summer, at any moment until he left for Hogwarts, at the Quidditch game. Instead, he'd probably only reinforced it when his magic burst free.
And the horrible thing was that he knew that if his parents hadn't been under the influence of the spell, if they had been paying attention to him, he would probably have killed or maimed them.
No matter where I turn, Harry thought, there's no comfort. No matter what I do, I'm going to hurt someone. Snape and Draco might care for me, but I forced them into it. It isn't natural. My magic is entirely unnatural. Dumbledore was right, and Starborn telling me that I could be a leader is laughable. What am I ever going to be but a Lord, cutting people off from their own ambitions and freedom?
His hands clenched, and the Shack abruptly trembled around him as if it would take flight. Harry smoothed down his rage again. He couldn't allow himself to get angry, even if it was at his own stupidity.
So what is left? Suicide?
He contemplated it calmly enough. He had always known that his chances of survival were not great. If he could die in the War to save Connor, then he could surely die by his own hand to keep from influencing people the wrong way. He would rather die than use compulsion. He had said that. He had felt that. Did he mean it?
And then the world turned around and made sense again.
Connor.
Harry's breathing came easier. He couldn't commit suicide. He had to stay alive for his brother's sake. Not only would Connor be left without protection if Harry died, but he would be devastated by grief. Harry winced at the thought of hurting someone else like that.
Are you sure that you didn't compel him to care for you, too?
No, Harry thought, he wasn't. But he thought it unlikely. His and Connor's love for one another had begun in childhood, when the phoenix web was still there to protect other people from unnatural influences. If there was any relationship in Harry's life that was free of the taint of his magic, it was his bond with his brother.
And perhaps…
Harry sat up and breathed out, slowly. He allowed himself to feel hope, and that was painful, but since when had he been afraid of causing pain to himself? Other people's pain was far more to be feared.
Connor has been learning compulsion magic, he thought. He can teach me techniques, I think. He can teach me how to start controlling this, how to limit the influence my magic has on other people.
Because that was the problem, the crux, the heart of the matter, and why he couldn't simply turn back to the phoenix web and the way things had worked in his childhood, Harry finally admitted to himself. Binding his magic only caused more problems. And he knew that Draco and Snape would struggle and argue with him if he tried to do it, because it would probably take a while before their true personalities returned and they ceased to care about him. He would rather not cause them any more agony than he had to in withdrawing the compulsion.
And there were the promises he had made to Peter, and Snape—even though he had caused some of Snape's sacrifices, such as his reduced loathing of Sirius, and hadn't noticed it—and to Remus, to free him of the Obliviate. There were the implied promises to the creatures in the Forest, even though he didn't know what they were yet, and to the Dementors, and to Fawkes.
For all those, he needed his magic.
I can't bind it, Harry decided, and slid off the bed. I can't ignore it, the way I have been doing. I have to do the harder thing. I have to face it. I have to learn to use it, the way Starborn suggested I do.
He remembered the story of Falco Parkinson, who had died trying to walk this path through his magic, and what Starborn had said in his letter, that other powerful wizards had died or gone mad trying not to be Lords.
Harry laughed, and was glad to hear that it sounded grim, instead of defeated.
Since when has anything in my life been easy?
But to gain some time and space for the training, and to give Draco and Snape time to recover from what he had done to them, he would have to insure that he parted from them for a while.
Harry knew the perfect way.
Neville let him into Gryffindor Tower with no questions asked, and directed Harry to the third-year boys' room when he asked after Connor. Harry found his brother there, pretending to work on a Charms essay but actually chattering with Ron. They both fell silent and stared at him.
Harry took a deep breath and met Connor's eyes. "I promised you once that we would spend all our Christmases together," he said. "And then I broke that promise last year. This year, I don't want to. Can I come home with you over Christmas?"
When Connor's face welled into a smile and he lunged at Harry over the bed, grabbing him in a fierce hug, Harry knew he'd made the right choice.