Thief is Such a Harsh Word, Harry

Thankyou all, you've encouraged me to continue and also for all the info on wallets. I'm full bottle now, but I'm definitely going to have to research anything I want to include in this story. 17oo's is an interesting time the cross over between quite a lot of things, which is really annoying because some things I want to include are just outside the era and I know I could just include them anyway, but I dunno that just feels wrong, I want to stay true to the times. But it's also got me slightly wishing I'd set this in the 18oo's- so much more handy, but no I've made the decision of 1700's and that is where I'll stay.

Warning: This chapter contains violence (only minor) just though I'd mention it just in case.

-CHAPTER TWO-

"Blonde hair, you say?" asked Fred.

"White-blonde," corrected Harry. He watched as Fred shot George an unreadable look.

George let out a low whistle but quickly put on a sympathetic expression as Ron glared at him from his armchair.

"What?" asked Harry, questioning the whistle. "Who is he?"

Fred looked over at George again who cleared his throat. "Well, have you ever heard of Lucius Malfoy?"

Ron put his head in his hands and let out a groan.

Harry frowned, "That was Lucius Malfoy? But, I thought he was dead."

"He is," said George.

"Actually," said Fred, "only supposedly. But don't worry Ron, you weren't robbed by the Lucius Malfoy, that'd be impossible."

"Hasn't been seen around London since, ohh what would it be now? The past…"

"Eleven years?" supplied Fred.

"Yeah that sounds about right. If he isn't dead then he's been out of the business for quite some time. So no, that wasn't Lucius Malfoy."

"Thank god. So this guy isn't one of the professionals, right? There might be some chance of getting my money back, then?" Ron said optimistically.

"Woah, hold your horses, mate," said Fred.

"Don't want to give yourself false hope. You see Ron, you weren't robbed by Lucius Malfoy, but someone just as good," George smiled at his twin.

"Who is he then?" asked Harry. Someone as good a thief as Lucius Malfoy? He'd never heard of an equal. Lucius Malfoy was the most legendary crook to ever walk the streets of London.

"Going on your description, it sounds as though you were robbed by…"

"His son," concluded George.

"Good old Draco," said Fred smiling, "Has it in for people who are conceited."

"Foolish."

"Don't forget those stupid money flashers," added Fred.

"And of course anyone who's disrespectful to his sort." George squatted down in front of Ron. "Please tell me you didn't say or do anything that stupid."

"Of course not!" Ron said outraged, "I'm not thick."

"Course you aren't dear," Fred turned to Harry, "What'd he do?"

"Apart from insulting thieves to his face?" Harry asked.

George dropped into the nearest seat trying to resist the urge to shake his brother by the shoulders while Fred put his hand to his forehead and shook his head.

"Well I'd say goodbye to that money now, you've no chance of seeing it again," said Fred.

"Insulted thieves to his face," muttered George in disbelief, "Blimey Ron, what were playing at?"

"I didn't know he was a thief!" yelled Ron. "He just seemed like some up-himself prat."

What happened to 'he practically screams criminal'? Harry thought, but one look at Ron's face stopped him from saying it out loud. Ron didn't need things like that pointed out to him, he needed help. "Can't we report it?" he suggested.

"Yes!" said Ron, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"Feel free," said George, "won't do much good though."

"You'd be better off trying to catch him yourself with the luck the police have with getting their hands on any of the Slytherins," Fred said bleakly.

"Fred!" George whispered in shock. He glared at his twin before looking over at Harry who had gone slightly white.

"Blimey Harry," said Fred hurriedly trying to make up for his slip of the tongue, "I didn't mean to… I forgot- well, no I didn't, I didn't forget, how could I possibly- it's not something you can forget easily- not that I'm saying you should forget, far from it- I just…ah, I'm sorry." Fred hung his head.

An awkward tension filled the air and no one dared meet Harry's eye. He let out a frustrated sigh, "I'm fine, honestly, Fred don't worry about it. Hearing the name isn't going to turn me into some emotionally unstable wreck."

He hated the way everyone tried to tread so carefully around the subject of his parents' murder, as though one mention of something even barely related to it would send him spiralling into a world of pain and memories he would never be able to escape...

The Slytherins had always been around. Salazar Slytherin had been their creator and very first leader. He led and band together the villains of the medieval era and they soon became known throughout the county for their treachery. After Slytherin's death the brotherhood disappeared, people no longer lived in fear to leave their homes or walk the streets after dusk. Crime itself never died, as expected, they still had their petty thieves and crooks but no one quite like the Slytherins. That was until the late 1600's. A brotherhood calling themselves by the same name appeared in Northern Scotland. Their leader: Tom Riddle, a well-known upper class character who had thrown away his ethical ways for a more intriguing and corrupt way of life.

Riddle had studied Slytherin and his work for half his life and knew exactly where to find those who would join him to rekindle and continue what Salazar had begun. The Slytherins became household names once again. But Riddle, unlike Salazar, had more on his mind than common street work, bigger plans of power and greed raged around his head. As his schemes became rash and wilder than anyone thought safe, his followers gradually began to fall away warning him his time was almost over, if he carried on like this, his downfall would be near.

Riddle didn't believe a word of the 'traitors' who had left him and he sought out to prove it. The members of the brotherhood who remained, sensed from the beginning it was never meant to be, as Riddle explained the plan, doubtful looks were exchanged amongst the men.

The crims positioned themselves outside the manor hoping that Riddle would come to his senses and call the attack off. But Riddle nodded and they reluctantly left their cover and went into the night towards the house, their instructions simple: brandish the knives, keep the situation under control and take anything they could carry.

The night watchmen had heard word that Riddle was planning an attack on the Potter Manor on that night, the night of their annual ball, and had sent warning.

The Slytherins burst into the manor ready to wipe the smiles off the faces of the aristocrats inside and rob them for all their worth. But instead they found no aristocrats dancing and chatting merrily with their friends whilst sipping wine, what they were confronted with was something Riddle hadn't counted on.

Three quarters of the Slytherins were gunned down on entrance. The other two apart from Riddle were tackled and cuffed, Riddle himself made it through the firing range and into the room where the guests were being held, one thing running through his mind- I will not go down like this.

James watched in horror as the madman grabbed his wife and held a knife to her throat. The police stopped in their tracks and the room became deadly silent except for Riddle's ragged breathing.

"Come anywhere near me and I'll kill her," Riddle said sadistically.

"Tom, you've never done anything cold blooded like this, you're not a killer, you won't be able to go through with it," the constable said reasonably.

"Is that so?" asked Riddle grinning like a psychopath.

Lily felt the cold blade press harder against her flesh.

"Let her go, Tom."

"And what? You'll let me go free?" he let out a sharp cold laugh, "I don't think so."

The constable started walking slowing towards them. Riddles eyes grew wider with each step- it wasn't supposed to work like that.

"I don't think you understand the threat I'm making. If you come any closer I will kill her." He said through gritted teeth, " Maybe I need to make it a little clearer…"

Lily felt the blade slice into her neck and let out an agonized cry. Her blood began to seep from the wound and down Riddle's wrist.

"You bastard!" James screamed pushing past the police and running towards his wife.

"GET BACK!" screamed Tom, though his voice was full of alarm. "GET BACK!"

James didn't listen, Riddle was slammed to the floor, but in the process the knife sliced deeper into Lily's neck.

The scene unfolded like someone had shut the sound off to James's world. He slowly looked up from on top of Riddle to see the woman he loved look at him for the last time before she slipped away…

His head swung round on instinct as the door to the room burst open and a figure appeared holding a pistol. It was only later, as the bullet drove itself through him that he realised it had been one of Riddle's men who had been shot down earlier and presumed dead, but had somehow survived and sought out to help his leader. The man's name had been Peter, Peter Petigrew. Unlike the other Slytherins he had looked up to Riddle and never questioned his actions. He fired the shot hoping to aid his leader in their escape but had underestimated the power of the bullet; he never knew the outcome of his shot as he passed out from blood loss seconds later. The shot ripped through James and into Riddle, they died by the same bullet.

-

"I don't get it," said Harry. "How are the Malfoys connected to the Slytherins? I thought the Slytherins died out with…" he swallowed and whispered under his breath, "with Riddle."

"Are you sure you're all right talking about this?" asked George.

Harry nodded.

"Well, word from the street is the Londoners never saw Tom Riddle as a true Slytherin. He was an upper-class bloke for a start, which means he certainly didn't fit the birth class of a crook; he wasn't born into the streets, brought up like the rest of them. The only way he learnt the tricks of the trade was through research, no true criminal has to research their way of life, they're taught from the day they're born from their father. The true Slytherins knew how far to push things, what they should and shouldn't try, there were rules set down by Salazar himself back in the 1100's. Riddle never knew of the rules because they're nothing you can research, that's why his plans were so unheard of and ludicrous; he didn't know when to stop and how far to go, which ultimately lead to his downfall…" George looked awkwardly at his feet as the subject arose once again.

"But the one thing that stands Riddle outside of the real Slytherins," Fred continued, "is where he's from."

"What Riddle didn't know was that Slytherins were English born and bred, mostly from around London. The true Slytherins- Salazar's Slytherins- were still around, thought gone but were actually still there."

"That's right," said Fred, "When Riddle and his band suddenly appeared up in Scotland calling themselves something they were not, the true Slytherins knew something had to be done about him."

"That anonymous tip-off the watchmen received on that night," George said, "From none other than Lucius Malfoy himself."

"Malfoy had spies in Riddle's followers. Riddle never suspected a thing."

"So," said Harry slowly mulling over all the information, "the true Slytherins have always been here in London? Riddle was never one?"

"Yep," said Fred.

"But I always thought Lucius Malfoy worked alone," Ron who had been quiet for a while suddenly spoke.

"Mostly," George said thinking, "he's famous for his solo work, but he's Slytherin through and through."

"So much so that he was their leader," added Fred, "though not anymore."

"No," said George, "Been passed down to-"

"Draco?" asked Harry.

"Him?" asked Ron in shock. "He's leader of the Slytherins?"

"Sure is," said Fred, "and a bloody good one too."

"Giving his father a run for his money, I'll say."

Harry thought it through. It was odd. He looked nothing like a pickpocket, he had seemed...different. Harry couldn't put his finger on it yet. There was still something annoying Harry about him, something that had caused his stomach to unclench and to let out a strange sigh of relief as he learnt the blonde wasn't connected to his parents murderer. Something that made him hope to meet this Draco Malfoy, leader of the brotherhood of the Slytherins again, perhaps then he would find out what it was.

He shook his head and came back to reality as Ron questioned Fred and George on just how exactly, did they come to know all this stuff about criminals?

A/N: Well, there you have it, another chapter down. Hope Lily and James's death wasn't too bad- pretty grim. And hope it all made sense, all explanations- if not and you've got questions, throw them at me and I'll get back to as soon as pos.

Trouble with the era in this chap: I wanted to include Scotland Yard, but alas that's 18oo's stuff. and also I had originally planned not kill Riddle and get him dragged off to that hell they call Australia where England decided to dump all their lot when their prisons got overcrowded- (a big shout out to the wonderful English- thanks guys for making us known for our criminal ancestry). BUT the story's set in the early 17oo's and Australia wasn't used as a dumping ground until 1788, so no one can be sent away. damn.

well interested to know what you thought of this chapter, all ears.

-Rogue