Harry was interrupted by a loud squawking sound. He and Hitomi turned simultaneously in the direction of Hogwarts, from where the noise had come. A large bird glided through the passageway, nearly impossible to see due to the receding sunlight. It was a raven. The bird glared at Harry, a fact that combined with its somewhat skeletal appearance to give the impression of a bona fide messenger of death. Without invitation, it perched itself imperiously on Hitomi's shoulder, digging its talons into her flesh and drawing blood. That proved to be a fatal mistake, as the kunoichi drew a curved dagger from her waist in irritation and skewered the hapless avian clean through the throat. An envelope fell from the raven's right leg as it slumped over lifelessly and tumbled unceremoniously to the earth below. Harry took the letter, arching an eyebrow as he examined it.
The letter was sealed with the Dark Mark.
Chapter Fifteen: The Lions, the Witch, and the Bowler Hat – Pain and Pleasure
Disclaimer: If you've seen it before, it belongs to J.K. Rowling. Otherwise, it's mine. Naturally, I'm making no money off this.
Eyebrow still raised, Harry glanced down at the dead raven on the ground and then over at Hitomi. She followed his gaze downward, and sheathed her dagger with a smirk.
"Remind me never to get on your bad side. And I thought you got off on pain?"
She sidled up against Harry, pinning him gently against the passage wall behind her and resting her head against the side of his neck. He placed his free arm around the kunoichi's waist, forest green eyes torn between focusing on the beautiful woman pressing rather provocatively against his body or the ominous black envelope resting in his hand. While glancing at the latter, Harry felt Hitomi's lips against his ear. Her moist breath seemed to fill his entire head as she spoke in hot whisper.
"Not when it comes from filthy creatures like that. Only you can make it pleasurable..."
As if to emphasize the last part, she began to sensually grind her firm, tight rear against his crotch. The skin-tight black training suit she wore was almost impossibly thin, so it felt as if she were completely naked. The gyrating motion immediately brought Harry to full attention. The dakaathi hybrid closed his eyes and sighed as his companion started to snog his inner ear. Despite being halfway to losing it already, Harry managed to respond.
"I don't recall you exhibiting this particular technique over the summer. I feel decidedly shortchanged now."
"Trust me, I haven't even taught you the half of what I know. I wouldn't want you to get bored of me too quickly."
He tensed up as she slowly rubbed across his full length. The envelope fluttered out of Harry's hand onto the ground, completely forgotten for the moment. He laughed slightly, speaking with as much humor inflected into his voice as his current level of control over his senses would allow for.
"I hope you'll forgive me if I don't commit the specifics to memory. At least, I'd certainly hope that I never wind up in the position where I have to rub some bloke off with my arse."
She momentarily halted her actions at that, much to Harry's annoyance, and giggled into his ear.
"You shouldn't, as long as you don't somehow get yourself stuck in detention with Professor Snape. From what I could see at last night's staff meeting, that man has got some sort of obsession with you."
Harry refused to even respond to her gibe about the greasy git. Back in control of his faculties, he ventured a glance at Hitomi's shoulder, where a small stream of blood was slowly trailing down onto her breast, the result of the raven's harsh landing. Leaning over the pale beauty's shoulder, he lapped up the better part of the mess with his tongue, eliciting a sharp moan from her.
"So, what exactly went down at that meeting, anyway?"
Hitomi answered with difficulty, panting slightly as he slowly ran his mouth over the spot where the bird's talons had pierced her skin.
"Snape tried to persuade Dumbledore to expel you on four or five occasions. A few of the professors backed him up, but nobody of any real consequence on the faculty. McGonagall and Hagrid immediately backed you up every time Snape opened his mouth. Other than that, nothing of any concern to us..."
Harry nodded against her shoulder, casually rubbing her stomach with one hand and holding her against him with the other.
"The old man won't dare try anything against me openly. His public image is already on the brink of collapse after the assault on the train. Fudge would just love to be handed a golden opportunity to drive the final nail into his coffin."
Hitomi only hummed contentedly in response. He knew that she really had no interest whatsoever in the interplay of wizard politics. She had only initially signed into his camp due to her obligations to her grandfather and her clan as a whole. Now she seemed to have a more personal attachment to him. Either way, she didn't care much at all for the future of the wizarding world. He just pulled her in a little tighter.
"If you don't like listening to my scheming, I can always just go and have my meeting with the old man. As it stands now, I'll be lucky to get away from him and still have time for supper."
"How can you eat that garbage, anyway? I could barely hold down breakfast this morning."
"You might be surprised to hear that the Hogwarts cuisine is far better than most of what you'd get on the outside. You ought to try Hagrid's cooking sometime. I still stand by the theory that it has potential military applications."
"He tried to offer me some rock cakes when I passed by his hut the other day. Quite proudly said that they were your personal favorite, actually. I wasn't quite daring enough to accept one."
"I do prefer you with your teeth intact. Honestly, I've never had the heart to tell him just how awful his concoctions are."
"I'm not sure if I could either. He's just the sort of person that you can't bring yourself to be rude to, and I've only spoken to him in passing once."
Harry took a moment to give the half-giant some thought. It was really unfortunate that the man was so loyal to Dumbledore. Harry really didn't want to have to hurt the man who was essentially the first friend he had ever known. Hagrid had essentially rescued him from his old life with the Dursleys, and Harry had never forgotten it. Still, there was little he could do aside from trying to keep an eye out for the man.
"Anyway, I imagine I should be headed off to see the old man now. Though I must admit, the idea of keeping him waiting into the night is tempting."
Hitomi pouted.
"Can't I just drag you back to my house instead?"
Harry smiled sardonically.
"Not tonight, love. If I don't stay up in the dorms once in a while, my mates are liable to think I'm avoiding them. And I've got an early morning tomorrow."
"Suit yourself, if you'd rather sleep in a crowded room with a bunch of boys instead of with me."
"You make it sound so personal."
"I'm just kidding. But remember, you promised to come down to Hogsmeade this week."
"I know, I won't forget. Now, think you can perhaps let me out?"
Harry was still rather comfortably trapped against the wall of the passageway. The kunoichi made a show of moving forward to allow him to leave, but then stopped and ground herself against his lower regions one last time. It had the effect of bringing his previously diminishing erection back to full alertness. She arched her body and created just enough open space to allow him to slip out from behind her. Her eyes shined with amusement despite the rapidly diminishing light as she glanced from Harry's crotch to his face.
"That's for not showing up late for class like I asked. Have fun with the old man."
"Very funny. I'll get you back for this, you know."
Hitomi only flashed her trademark smile. Harry started to leave, grumbling to himself about the fact that for the second time in as many days that he was left hanging with a full hard-on. And this time, he didn't have a few dozen Death Eaters to work out his frustration upon. The sound of his companion's voice caused him to turn back in her direction.
"Aren't you forgetting something, Harry?"
She tossed him the sealed letter, which he had very nearly made a rather sizable mistake by leaving behind. Harry imagined that it only contained a retinue of threats against his own life and those of his friends, and promises of vengeance for the previous day's humiliating defeat. Despite that, it just wouldn't do to have some random passerby pick up a letter addressed to him from the Dark Lord.
"Thanks."
"No problem. See you later."
With a smile and a wink, she disappeared into the darkened passageway, heading back to her house in Hogsmeade. Harry dropped the envelope into his bag and started off in the opposite direction, hoping to get back to the castle before the sun completely set.
He arrived at the Headmaster's office about half an hour later, after having deliberately taken his time in traversing the corridors of Hogwarts. The entirety of the student body was at dinner, and thus the hallways were completely deserted. Harry absentmindedly hoped that the old man was off feasting in the Great Hall as well, which would give the young wizard a reasonable excuse for skipping out on this little conversation. Luck was not on his side, however. The gargoyle sprang aside without the need for a password, as if expecting him. The old man sat at his desk, eyes twinkling with amusement and Harry plopped emotionlessly into an armchair across from him.
"Ah, Harry. You seem to be a bit subdued this evening."
"My apologies, sir. I'm sort of tired. The class I just left was rather exhausting."
The look that crossed Dumbledore's face for a brief moment betrayed the fact that he didn't believe a word of Harry's excuse. Which was fine, given that hadn't really intended to fool the old man to begin with, just that it would have been imprudent to openly tell him that he had no desire to talk to him. The blatant lie got the point across every bit as effectively. Dumbledore only smiled serenely in response.
"I might imagine so. NEWT-level courses are indeed much more taxing, as I am sure that you will continue to find. Now, I have asked you here this evening because I have some serious concerns about you, Harry."
Harry failed keep the sarcasm out of his retort.
"You don't say."
Dumbledore sighed audibly, an austere and somewhat regretful expression on his wizened features.
"This is not a matter to be regarded lightly. I find your recent tendency to employ the Dark Arts to be entirely unacceptable. You are treading down the wrong path, Harry. I am beginning to see far too many similarities between yourself and the young Tom Riddle these later days, only you seem to have already delved much deeper into the arcane than he had while in Hogwarts."
Harry realized that there was no point in trying to completely deflect the old man's suspicions and pretending to be a good little boy. Dumbledore had already made his own conclusions regarding the situation, and had hard evidence from the previous day's events to back them up. Besides, Harry now had enough cards assembled his own hand that he didn't necessarily need to back down from the aged wizard. He didn't like being compared to Voldemort a single bit. Mostly because the remark hit a bit too close to the actual state of things, aside from Harry not being a crazed terrorist or a pureblooded supremacist.
"Of course you're correct, sir. I shall abandon my Dark Arts studies at once. They're hardly necessary, right? Voldemort will assuredly fall before the onslaught of my Jelly-Legs Jinx. Or maybe I simply can levitate him until he burns up in the atmosphere. Perhaps a well-placed Cheering Charm might do the trick."
"Do not take that tone with me..."
As rather forcefully requested, Harry dropped the sheer mocking from his voice.
"Fine, but am I getting the point across? We're at war, professor. It doesn't make me the next Dark Lord because I'm willing to fight the enemy on equal terms. Are you afraid of compromising some supposed moral high ground here? Look in the papers. The people are sick of these attacks. They want Voldemort and his minions dead before any more innocent lives are lost. Even that idiot Fudge has managed to get the picture."
"I do not now and will not ever condone the taking of lives beyond absolute necessity. For us to adopt any other standpoint would make us in no way better than Voldemort. Surely you cannot fail to see that, Harry."
Harry shook his head.
"All I can see is that both you and the Order are doomed to failure, unless you start getting serious about viewing this as a real conflict and treating it as such. I'm quite sure that I'm not the first person to tell you this, given that you have people like Kingsley and Professor Moody in the group. Your ridiculous methods of fighting are not in accord with the general will of the populace, but mine are. I'll be right in the thick of things when the time comes, and I'll give no quarter to that disgusting creature or his followers."
"You are completely unwilling to reconsider your position on this, then?"
Harry noticed Dumbledore taking a sidelong glance into his bag, where the Dark Lord's letter was plainly visible. Harry hadn't taken any steps to hide it from view, and the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. He didn't particularly care that the old man had seen it, though. He could take it for whatever meaning he would. Harry casually cracked his knuckles and stretched his neck before answering Dumbledore's rather pointless question.
"There's nothing to think about. I've got a psychotic dark wizard out for my blood and a Prophecy stating that I must face him. When the final battle arrives, I intend to win, and to live on to bring about the world that my parents and godfather died for. To accomplish that end, I will use any and all means available to me. Including the Dark Arts which you so scorn."
Dumbledore closed his eyes for a long moment and nodded, before looking back up at Harry with a grim expression.
"I see. I will again attest to my displeasure regarding the recent choices you are making, Harry. However, you are now an adult in the eyes of wizards and witches everywhere, and in the provisions of magical society's oldest laws and customs. I cannot force you to adopt my ideas as your own, especially in light of the Ministry's most recent proclamations regarding the use of the darker side of magic. I have always done my best to shield you from the harsher realities of the world that we live in. But alas, it was simply not meant to be. The Boy-Who-Lived was never fated for a normal life."
Harry smoothly ran a hand through his long hair.
"Perhaps not. If that was all you wanted to discuss, sir, I'd like to take my leave. Hopefully there'll be something left of dinner still."
With that, Harry began to rise. A wrinkled hand gripped his wrist, beckoning him to stay. He sat back down, more than a little bit annoyed.
"No, my boy. There is still something of paramount importance that I must discuss with you."
That vague terminology briefly brought Harry back to the beginning of this entire mess, when he read Grilthauk's letter back at the beginning of summer. Just barely two months, but still a lifetime ago. Harry doubted that whatever this particular old creature wanted to discuss would have as many benefits for him.
"And what is that, might I ask?"
The old man seemed to bear himself up slightly, the twinkle returning to his eye.
"I have realized, Harry, that I can no longer protect you from being forced to take an active role in this war. Especially following to yesterday's events, the public will want to see their hero on the front lines battling against the forces of darkness. However, I am concerned that you might incur some considerable harm should you continue to fight without the proper guidance or support..."
Harry could barely resist the urge to snort in response to that comment.
"...It is for that reason that I have decided to induct you into the Order of the Phoenix."
Harry had only been somewhat annoyed before, but he was completely so now. The old man dared to simply presume to all but tell him to join the Order, as if he had no say in the matter. So much for Dumbledore's previous acknowledgment of Harry's adult status. He did understand what the old man was attempting to do, at least on a basic level. Harry figured that Dumbledore was just now coming to realize how far out of his control the entire situation in the wizarding world had gone. He had lost the public's trust and Fudge was quite gleefully taking full advantage of it. That, coupled with Harry's own recent tendency to act contrary to his wishes, had left the old man reeling. He was desperate to regain some sort of handle on things before the surging wave of discontent swept him away entirely. He was planning to use Harry as a life preserver of sorts, needing the young wizard's popularity and newfound political muscle to retake his compromised position as the head of the forces of the light. Harry would be nobody's tool. There was only one answer to give the old man.
"I don't think so."
Dumbledore, who had been smiling somewhat victoriously, recoiled as if he had been shot.
"Excuse me? You refuse to join the Order?"
"I've already told you that I disagree with your personal ideology. You just aren't willing to do what needs to be done, and I'm not about to leap aboard a sinking ship."
"What exactly are you trying to say, Harry?"
Harry sighed. He had hoped to keep things somewhat cordial, but there seemed to be no help for it. The old man wasn't going to get the message unless he spoke bluntly.
"I'm trying to say that you're a wholly inept commander, whose errors in judgment and lack of foresight have caused more than a few lives to be lost in vain over the course of these two wars against Voldemort. You're possibly the most powerful wizard alive and a sage that could very well rival Merlin himself in terms of magical knowledge, but you're a general in your own imagination only. My ragtag group of largely untrained students did more damage to Voldemort's forces in ten minutes yesterday afternoon than the Order has in the entirety of this war. I know that many of those same students would follow whatever path I choose to take, and would line up in droves to join the Order if I did. I'm not willing to put my life and theirs into your hands, given your faulty track record as a leader."
Dumbledore was completely stunned by this harangue. Harry kept his forest green eyes leveled upon the old wizard until he regained enough composure to speak again.
"I had hoped that you would perhaps be willing to put your newfound personal enmity towards me aside for the greater good, Harry. I see now, however, that you are irrevocably determined to do things in your own way."
The old man was getting desperate, Harry thought. Dumbledore was trying to make him feel guilty. It wasn't going to work.
"I'm determined to win this war, and not to waste lives in order to maintain some ridiculous code of moral ethics. I'll still be right at the front when there's fighting to be done, and I'll be perfectly willing to aid the Order in any way needed. I'm just not going to take my marching orders directly from you."
"Very well, then. Just remember, if you ever find yourself in need of counsel or assistance, my office door will always be open to you."
Harry supposed that he should at least respond politely.
"I appreciate that, professor."
He noticed Dumbledore take another quick glance at his open school bag, at the Dark Lord's unopened letter.
"Now, is there anything else that you would like to share with me, Harry?"
Whatever was in the letter was none of the old man's business. Besides, Harry could handle it on his own. He had no desire to confess to Dumbledore, and was more than reluctant to ask his advice so soon after this rather terse encounter.
"No, sir. Are we finished yet?"
"Yes, my boy. You may go. I must get prepared for Minister Fudge's visit tomorrow."
Harry nodded and departed without another word, grabbing his bag and leaving a defeated Albus Dumbledore behind. The old man was so full of mistaken assumptions and gross contradictions that he honestly hadn't proven all that difficult to best in an argument, as long as he could be forced to speak candidly and cease hiding behind riddles and half-truths. He had gone from accusing Harry of being his generation's answer to Voldemort to lauding him as the wizarding world's hero and demanding he join the Order in a matter of minutes. Dumbledore really was starting to lose it. It was rather pathetic, Harry mused. He chuckled under his breath as he walked back over to Gryffindor Tower, already knowing that he had missed dinner. If nothing else, he would get to bed early.
The following afternoon found Harry lounging about with Ron and the twins out on the grounds in front of the lake. After a late evening meal, a plate of roast beef and boiled potatoes that his friends had taken the trouble to fix for him after he hadn't showed up in the Great Hall, and a quick exchange of the day's stories with Hermione and Ron, Harry had rushed up to sleep. Ron had taken his teacher to an even stalemate in his class, which left Harry to believe that the redhead had simply let him win a few chess games earlier in the summer. Either that or his dakaathi intelligence was a step above that of any normal human.
According to Hermione, Snape's NEWT Potions class was filled predominantly with Slytherins, many of whom could in no way have fulfilled the stringent entrance requirements that the greasy old bat held everybody else to. Despite being the sole Gryffindor in the class, she had been left more or less alone by the serpents, most of whom were seemingly too terrified of Harry after his exploits during the battle to risk physically attacking one of his closest friends. They would rediscover their pitiful excuses for backbones sooner or later, Harry mused, but for the moment they were shell-shocked and intimidated. It pleased him that these Death Eater spawn were afraid of him. He was also relieved, though he didn't express it, to find that his own three Slytherin associates were all in the class, along with a smattering of Ravenclaws and a pair of Hufflepuffs. If Malfoy and his cronies were to try anything with Hermione down there in the future, she would have enough support to be able to hold her own.
He had miraculously managed to wake up early enough to make it out to the Quidditch Pitch with time to spare. Katie hadn't worked him particularly hard. She reckoned that there was plenty of time to get him acquainted with his newfound position before the team's opening match with Ravenclaw. It seemed rather anticlimactic that he would be facing Cho in the first game of the new season, with the last being against the terminally floundering Hufflepuff squad. He adapted as easily as his apparent coach had foretold, though it was still a bit too early to tell for sure. All he did was run through a few formations and work on aiming the Quaffle through the unguarded hoops. Katie told him rather dryly that he would need to start working against an active Keeper in the next few days, and that it was his responsibility to drag Ron out of bed before sunrise. Harry wasn't looking forward to the task.
After the ninety-minute practice session had ended with the sun still only beginning to rise, Harry walked off into one of the locker rooms to take a shower. Katie followed him for a brief moment, before catching herself and thinking better of it. That was fine by him, as he really didn't want to have to explain his wings away yet again, and was only aiming to clean himself up and go to an early breakfast. The morning's edition of the Daily Prophet had been filled with another round of scathing editorials aimed at Dumbledore, mostly alluding to his questionable hiring practices and powerlessness to stop the attacks during Harry's second year at Hogwarts. Harry almost felt sorry for the old man, and would probably use his personal clout to keep him from getting sacked as Headmaster if it came down to it. Dumbledore was the only real barrier preventing Voldemort from making a direct attack upon the school, and it was in Harry's best interests to keep him in his position. He had no doubts that the serpentine madman could marshal enough forces to lay siege to the castle if the opportunity presented itself, despite the heavy casualties that the forces of darkness had taken during the failed attack on the train. He didn't really think that the Hogwarts Board of Governors would even consider firing the old man under the present circumstances, regardless.
Harry's only class for that day had been Charms in the morning. He found himself paired off with Neville, as Ron had jumped to work with Hermione. Harry wasn't blind to how his redheaded friend felt about the girl, and didn't take it at all personally. Besides, it gave him an opportunity to be able to work directly with Neville, who would need some extensive training if he were to be considered for Harry's personal crack unit. He intended to start narrowing down his list of candidates without delay, as soon as he found time to discuss the Ravenclaw situation with his Chinese confidant. The lesson itself really hadn't been anything particularly noteworthy, as Flitwick had set them to learning advanced shielding charms, promising to place an emphasis upon actual dueling spells in his advanced class. Harry already knew all of the incantations, though he generally preferred to let his armaments take care of deflecting curses for him rather than wasting time and energy erecting defensive barriers. He played the attacker for the entire lesson, sending harmless spells at Neville as the pudgy boy tried his best to deflect them. He seemed to have a basic understanding of the charm by the end of the class. Perhaps he wasn't completely hopeless after all.
After class, Hermione had taken off for Herbology, leaving Harry and Ron with nothing to do. After a quick lunch, the two decided to head out onto the grounds to enjoy the day and met up with Fred and George en route. Harry himself was leaned against a spruce tree, absently fumbling with his emerald snitch necklace and enjoying the view on the water. He was dressed in his breastplate, along with a shirt and trousers, and opened school robes over the rest. He turned his head lazily upon being addressed by one of the Weasley twins. He guessed George, but couldn't really tell.
"So, Harry, where'd you get off to this morning? I know you didn't just jump out of bed before sunrise for no reason."
"Quidditch drills. Katie seems to think I should be moved over to Chaser this season."
Ron nearly spat up the mouthful of bottled water that he was drinking.
"Has she gone out of her bloody mind...? You're practically the best Seeker that Hogwarts has seen in centuries. And she wants you to change positions...?"
"She wants to keep Ginny playing Seeker. Thinks she's poorly suited to being on the Chaser line and is good enough at her current position to beat any of the opposition."
Fred added in his thoughts.
"Malfoy's a disgrace, and I don't think Hufflepuff can dig anybody up worth mentioning. But Chang's gonna fly circles around Ginny. She's way too good and way too experienced."
"Oh dear, my ears are burning."
That comment heralded the arrival of the Ravenclaw Seeker, who slid right into the middle their group as if it was completely natural for her to be mingling with a party of Gryffindors. She apparently had no classes that day, as she was out of school uniform, dressed only in a sleeveless T-shirt and a pair of denim shorts. After a soft kiss, Cho sidled up against Harry, grimacing uncomfortably at coming up against his body armor. He tucked her head underneath his chin, rather enjoying the way she seemed to fit perfectly into him. Fred couldn't resist taking a jibe at the newcomer.
"Looks like we've got us a spy. Listening in on our Quidditch plans, are you? You know the penalty for espionage."
His twin joined in.
"No, I don't think she goes, brother of mine. Shall we enlighten the lady?"
"Indeed we shall, Fred. As recompense for spying..."
"You'll have to..."
"Agree to test out our next line of products..."
"Completely free of charge."
Cho lightly swatted the snitch from Harry's necklace away from her face, where its wings had been tickling her cheek, before responding with a smile.
"But it's not my fault that you're shouting out your game plans where anybody can hear. What you ought to be doing is picking out the right brand of polish for the Cup. I can tell you right now that Ravenclaw will be expecting it to be nice and shiny when you lot hand it over to us at the end of the season."
Ron sat up from where he had been sprawled out on the grass, laughing loudly. By this point, Harry was lazily playing with a lock of Cho's shining hair, with his other arm snaked around her waist.
"Ravenclaw winning the Quidditch Cup? Oh, that's a good one, Chang. Not a bloody chance."
Cho responded indignantly, though she was enjoying Harry's attention too much to be fully angry.
"And you would certainly be the authority on hopeless Quidditch teams, seeing as you support the Cannons."
"Better than being a fair-weather Tornadoes fan."
Harry, despite rather enjoying watching his would-be girlfriend and his best friend argue, decided to smooth things over before the situation got heated. He interjected into the conversation jokingly.
"Calm yourselves, ladies. Merlin, Ron, you just don't know how to talk to a woman. I used to think that it was just something you shared with Hermione, but now I'm not so sure."
Ron responded with equal good humor, blushing redder than his hair at the mention of Hermione. Harry noncommittally decided to make sure to get them together somehow.
"And you're just a regular heartthrob. The next Gilderoy Lockhart, that's what you are. Except a whole lot uglier and only slightly less of a bloody fraud."
Harry sneered back.
"Oh, I'm certainly a hoax, but ugly? I very much resent that, mate. Cho, am I ugly?"
Obsidian eyes looked up to regard him, glistening in the sunlight in an identical fashion to her hair.
"Positively hideous. I just might have to dump you for that strapping Malfoy boy."
"I wasn't aware that the rodent look was in style. I really ought to keep up with these things."
The twins jumped in again, speaking as one. Harry idly wondered how they managed to do that.
"Well, we both think you're quite bonny, Harry. As it turns out, so does most of the female student body."
Harry turned to look at them with a laugh, as Ron glanced over into his bag and fished something out.
"You know it. And look, he's already getting love letters. Not even two days into the term, even. You'd better be keeping a close eye on this one, Chang."
Harry whipped his head around to Ron, already knowing what he was holding. Indeed, it was Voldemort's letter, still unopened. He had been too tired the previous evening to bother with it, and hadn't had the time or privacy to read it since.
He snatched it from Ron before the redhead noticed the Dark Mark on the seal.
"Oh, this letter? Yeah, it's a love letter, for sure. I have it on good authority that Voldemort's always lusted after my tight little arse. He must be really getting horny to send me a direct proposition, though."
Ron's eyebrows shot up.
"Blimey, mate. That's from You-Know-Who? Why's he sending owl post to you, of all people?"
"Couldn't tell you. I haven't read it yet. I'd imagine that it's just the usual retinue of death threats, though. Rather pathetic, that the Dark Lord has to resort to sending me nasty letters in the mail."
Cho piped in, an incredulous look on her pretty face.
"When did that come in?"
"Last night. I was on my way to visit the old bastard, didn't quite need to have whatever's in here fresh on my mind. It's none of Dumbledore's business, and I'm not entirely sure I could hold off his Legilimency if he really wanted to pry in."
"You've had a day, Harry. You really should at least read it, whatever it is."
"We can all take a look. Here, make me some space."
As requested, the assorted Weasleys cleared out some room in front of Harry. The dakaathi hybrid broke the seal on the letter through focusing a bit of his magic, watching it dissipate into a cloud of green mist and float away in the breeze. He unfurled the long piece of parchment in front of him, noting that Voldemort's spidery scrawl seemed to be written in blood.
Salutations, Harry Potter
Naturally, you must be surprised to have received a letter from yours truly. I must imagine that you had visions of death threats and pointless taunts as you broke the seal. Allow me to assure you that you will find no such things contained here. Well, perhaps just one fleeting comment, if you'll forgive my imposition. Your rutting Muggle swine of a cousin squealed quite accordingly during his torture, and sadly lost control of both bladder and bowel before meeting his end. Young Malfoy would assuredly be more than willing to give you a more telling description, should you be interested. After all, he was the one that quite happily uttered the curse that finally took the boy's life. On a side note, you might be pleased to hear that Wormtail slipped on your cousin's urine. I sincerely hope that you enjoyed our birthday gift to you. It was Bella's idea, as she rather forcefully insisted that I let you know. A few of the more daring among the faithful ventured to sample the pork before the festivities concluded. We would have sent you a sample as well, but I somehow doubt that roasted Muggle keeps well in the mail.
But you did appreciate the gesture, did you not? Lord Voldemort is not unaware of the torment that you suffered at the hands of those creatures, Harry. Know that we will eventually return for the parents, and that your aunt and uncle will suffer infinitely more than their disgusting excuse for a son. Oh, dear. I seem to recall promising not to taunt or threaten, and here I am rambling on. Rather like that old fool Dumbledore, really. It sickens me to think of it. But, now on to the point of this correspondence, I believe. I would rather like for you to be at my side as your Muggle relations scream to the heavens for mercy that they will not receive.
Indeed, Harry, I have very recently undergone a change of opinion concerning you. Just for a moment, try to imagine my surprise as I make a brief sojourn to the battlefield of my admittedly ill-fated assault on the school train, intent on punishing my officers for being derelict in reporting news of my victory, only to find them slaughtered on the drenched earth. Obliterated by spells that even I tend to show restraint in using. Truly, the most gruesome of dark curses cannot be employed too often, lest their overall seductive appeal be compromised. Every cell in my body tingled in anticipation of a duel with such an artist in cruelty. I still haven't quite managed to deduce exactly what you did to those poor fools nearest the wreckage. And then, I discover Bella transfigured into a dairy cow in the middle of the battlefield, racked with the aftereffects of the Cruciatus. She tells me that you, the supposed golden hero of the light, were the architect of this massacre. Surely something is amiss, no?
You are not the mere boy that I have so long taken you for. You have delved into the arcane, far deeper even than I had at your age. You have tasted the sweet nectar of the darkness, and from what can be obviously seen from your battle, you enjoyed it immensely. But what you have learned thus far marks only the barest beginnings of the true potential of the darkest magic. Join me, and I will teach you the true nature of the power that you were born to command. I have often longed for an apprentice to whom I might impart the knowledge that I have largely devoted my lifetime to acquiring. You are the one I have chosen, Harry. You are the only one who is worthy. You have the power, the will, and the motive to become a warlock surpassing even myself. You lack only the direction. I can give you that.
I have made this offer before, and you have refused. But the circumstances are different now, for both of us. I have lately seen the futility of pursing true immortality. It is, as the filthy Muggle saying goes, a pipe dream. I will pursue an everlasting legacy in another fashion, what could be termed as the natural fashion. I will endow a successor. At first, I gave consideration to producing a child of my own loins, through any of my several dedicated female followers. However, that is a gamble in itself. Even with my bloodline, a child could be a weakling. Young Malfoy is a walking testament to this: a completely pathetic excuse for a wizard born to a pair of the most powerful and pedigreed purebloods our society has to offer. I have no desire to sire a squib, as I am certain you will understand.
But there is one, worthy beyond any doubt of being the successor to the world that I would conquer. Naturally, that is you. Join me, and the world that we will create together will fall to you once I am gone from this world. Think of it, Harry. The entire world, and all that comes with it. Power beyond compare, the knowledge that your will can never be challenged, no matter how lofty your desire. Wealth and companionship, the very two things to which you have always been entitled, yet always denied. Any woman in the world could be yours on command. My previous scans of your innermost thoughts have provided me with the knowledge that you have long been smitten with the former girlfriend of that useless spare. Give the word, Harry, and our Death Eaters will bring her to your feet in chains to do your bidding for as long and as often as you like. You belong with us, Harry. You are a lord, not a servant. You are not a tool to be used and cast aside by that manipulative old coot. You are not a sacrificial offering for these bleating sheep in the wizarding world, to be praised one moment and reviled the next. You are not a ripened host to be leeched upon by pitiful Mudbloods and flattering blood traitors like those abominable Weasleys. Come to my side, and show them all what you are truly capable of. I await your decision.
You need not reply now. My loyal followers and I will await you at the central square of Hogsmeade at the stroke of midnight on Halloween. Think well, and make your choice. I trust that you will choose wisely.
Deepest regards,
Voldemort, Dark Lord of the Realm
Harry kept his face impassive as he read, but became increasingly vexed on the inside. That the murderer of Harry's real parents would dare to make overtones at adopting the young wizard as his own son made his blood boil, though not a murmur escaped his lips. If he were to analyze the situation logically, the Dark Lord's offer was sensible. It would be much easier for him to ally with him and crush the old man in a single encounter, then either wait for the serpentine bastard to kick or just take find some opportunity to assassinate him. That wasn't to say that the thought of accepting even crossed Harry's mind. He would never lower himself to kneeling before that creature, now would his friends and followers would never forgive him if he did. Noticing that his fellows seemed to be waiting on him to say something, he voiced a thought, albeit one that completely failed to reflect anything that he was actually thinking.
"Well, I certainly seem to be popular these days..."
That sparked a flurry of angry remarks, though none were directed at Harry. Cho particularly seemed a bit upset, mostly due to the insinuation that the Dark Lord would force her into being somebody's sex slave. Voldemort's rather churlish mention of Cedric Diggory hadn't helped matters. Her former boyfriend was still a sore spot for her, even if she was more or less past his death by that point. She calmed down after a few minutes, though, and was back to her smiling self. The Weasleys were indignant as well, in their case about the comment made regarding their family. Ron finally spoke up with a sneer.
"Bloody bastard sure loves to hear himself talk, doesn't he?"
Harry nodded.
"I can pretty much confirm that, mate. Sort of leads me to wonder just how many times he read this damned letter out loud to himself before actually sending it."
"I dunno, but we've got no time to ponder the question. Don't look now, but King Midas and the full royal entourage are headed right this way."
The remaining four heads turned simultaneously to follow Ron's line of vision. And indeed, hideously decked out in his trademark checkered robes and lime green bowler hat was Cornelius Oswald Fudge, the not-so-esteemed Minister for Magic, at the head of a large party of assorted Ministry officials, many of whom were his own personal cronies. Fudge was grinning like a Cheshire Cat as he swaggered up to Harry's position and extended his hand.
"Well, now, if it isn't Harry Potter. Just the young man I've been looking for."
(End Chapter Fifteen)
Author's Note: Glory hallelujah, I'm finally free of bloody research papers. Just sent in my last essay a few hours ago. Now I just have finals to traipse through next week and I'm home free. Expect me to get back to my usual, faster update schedule here directly. Believe me, folks, I'd rather be writing this story than writing school papers. Anyway, a few comments.
I'm trying to find a happy medium between working with some relatively heavy content pertaining to Harry's mission and alliances, and some lighter stuff regarding more mundane school pursuits, like classes and Quidditch. I hope I'm doing a good job of that now. As much as I'm sure some people would like me to focus entirely on Harry's scheming and plotting, he does have an actual life outside of it as well.
Well...I would put a bit more here, but I'm honestly too sleepy to think of anything else. I imagine that I've made you lot wait long enough for an update, so I'm taking pains to get it posted before I go to bed. I'm sure there are some errors that need to be proofread, but I'll take care of that in the morning. Later, all. Don't forget to review.