Embracing His True Self
Chapter 101
"Did none of them go home last night?" Harry asked dramatically, groaning as he massaged his temples. His bleary eyes squinting at the sleeping – utterly sloshed – bodies that smelt like a brewery. It's like they'd conked out where they sat the place stank of alcohol, goblets, crystal glasses and plates, half eaten food, bowls filled with nibbles strewn all over the place. "Ugh, where are the House-elves? Have they staged a protest?" he wouldn't blame them the slightest. Holding up signs and chanting 'Give us Clothes! Give us clothes!' a giggle left Harry's lips as he thought about it, envisioned it.
"No, they didn't," Voldemort answered, grimacing a little, not blaming Harry for asking, the place was a mess. Their celebration had been a long and exciting night, last night. Not that their people needed a reason to celebrate. Fortunately, Dumbledore gone once and for all – with zero chance of escape now – one step closer to their goals. "And I believe the House-elves are in a similar state…that added to the time."
"The time?" Harry asked befuddled, "It's after eight o'clock?"
"No, it's just after six o'clock." Voldemort refuted, giving Harry a look that suggested he was questioning his sanity.
"What? I'd just woken up…" Harry said in protest to the look, "I've got a drooth* on me that would choke a Thestral."
"Scottish teacher?" Voldemort deduced, lips twitching into true fondness, he had made alliances with many Scottish fractions, whether they were creatures, wizards, witches or anything in-between.
"Substitute teacher, during primary seven," Harry told him, stepping over a sleeping body. "She actually treated me like I was somebody."
"Are you sure she wasn't a witch?" Voldemort chuckled, flicking his wand and just like that the Grand Hall began to right, clean itself, and just like that the horrid smell began to fade.
"No, there was no awe," Harry shook his head, flicking his own wand, and the windows were opened, letting in fresh air. "When she called out my name there was no recognition." Struggling to recall that day, not as difficult as one would imagine. Since she really was the only teacher who had given him the time of day. She didn't seem to care what the teachers had said about him, the rumours the Dursley's had spread about him. There wasn't a rumour the teachers didn't just automatically believe about him.
"W-w-what…where…bloody hell," Marcus blinked in astonishment before trying to scramble to his feet. Grateful for the wall at his back, otherwise he would have fallen without a doubt. "My Lords'…" he bowed just a little, but it was enough to get him started, "I'm going to be sick!" and with that Marcus was quick to excuse himself, heading straight for the first bathroom he came across.
Harry laughed, grinning a bit before groaning himself, his head ached like blazes. "Dobby?" he called out.
Dobby popped immediately to his master's side, "What can *hick* Dobby do for Master Harry?"
Harry smiled, as always Dobby was eager to serve him in any capacity he requested. Or would have, unfortunately his swaying convinced Harry that wouldn't be happening any time soon. Was he drunk? Is that why the place hadn't been cleaned yet despite the early hour? "Are you drunk?" he asked the House-elf incredulously.
His rather loud question had another wizard groaning, as the sound forced him back to consciousness.
Shame caused the House-elf to shrink in on itself, Dobby suddenly found the floor fascinating.
"Dobby?" Harry said, voice thinly veiled in warning. "What happened?" it wasn't normal behaviour! They'd had a party before, and the House-elves had been perfectly behaved. So, where the hell was this coming from? Most House-elves, Harry knew wouldn't risk getting clothes for anything. The only House-elf he knew drank was Winky.
Dobby remained suspiciously silent. It was a strong indicator that something had happened and the House-elves hadn't just been swept up in the merriment. His eyes narrowed in on the new rip in Dobby's uniform. Now Dobby was bloody proud of that tunic he had, with the Potter coat of arms and kept it almost religiously clean. "Tell me what happened." he booked no argument from the House-elf.
"Do not make me give you clothes," he warned the House-elf, guiltily using the one thing guaranteed to get Dobby to talk when he just seemed to crumble in on himself.
Dobby flinched violently at that threat, it didn't matter that he and Harry were forever bound. The bond he had chosen would ensure that. Not even clothes would break the bond, only death would.
"Now," Harry warned again, already reaching down for the sock on his foot, a big meaning between the pair of them.
That had Dobby breaking down entirely, sobbing out the tale, begging Harry for forgiveness. Apparently, Vincent, Draco, Gregory, Pansy and Millicent had surrounded the surprised House-elves and forced them to drink the alcohol. Bear in mind that this was actual fire whiskey, not just butterbeer which could render a bloody House-elf in a drunken stupor. To make matters worse, the had trashed the kitchen, all the eggs were destroyed, the bags of flour and sugar all over the kitchen floor along with dishes broken and food just thrown around carelessly.
Harry stared a little stunned, he hadn't expected all this. His voice was grating on his headache making it worse, but he had demanded answers.
Apparently, Dobby was the only one up yet, that Draco had been content to beat him up and force him to drink Fire whiskey. So, it was likely he had imbibed far less than his fellow House-elves. He was vowing to take whatever punishment they saw fit to dole out himself.
That was…beautiful loyalty, but Dobby put his heart and soul into whoever was kind to him.
A part of Harry felt…undeserving of such loyalty, but nonetheless he would show just how he repaid such loyalty.
"Are they still here?" turning to face Tom, green eyes blazing with righteous fury.
Voldemort narrowed his eyes thoughtfully; he didn't need to be fully coherent to know something was afoot. "Probably," closing his eyes, he focused on the aforementioned people before admitting, "Yes,"
"Get them here, now," Harry said, gritting his teeth, "And you stop that right now, Dobby! You're to touch nothing! The others are to touch nothing otherwise I will be extremely angry."
Dobby blinked as if his Master had just begun speaking a language he didn't understand. The place looked like a tip, the kitchen was worse, they had been belligerent, angry, why did Master Harry suddenly want to live somewhere untidy? "The Kitchen…" he gave a very light token protest.
"Will be cleaned," Harry stated, "But not by you." turning to face his partner, "Get them here, please."
"They're taking up residence in the library," Voldemort proclaimed, "If you are determined that the House-elves do not clean or cook…then we shall have to eat out today." And somewhere far greater than the Leaky Cauldron. He was far from stupid; he knew without a doubt that the culprits would be cleaning the manor.
"I did enjoy the coffee at Ruby's in Knockturn," Harry said, "The food is very good too." The houses in Knockturn were almost finished, honestly, he loved magic. They were able to do so much, where something would take Muggles at least two years, takes wizards a whole lot less longer.
Voldemort sighed, "Very well, Ruby's it is, but we're going to the Emerald Dragon for lunch." He compromised. It was one thing to help get an entire community get on its feet, and house them elsewhere until the properties were done but keeping businesses going at the expense of a good meal wasn't what he'd call a good idea. Admittedly, it really did have the best coffee, but the food was standard.
"The food has improved drastically," Harry promised, smiling as they began to move, "They've hired a new chef, with more people down there, they're drumming up more business, which means better chef and better food. Even the McKinnon's agreed with me." He actually really liked them, and honestly the subtle hints that they knew what was happening intrigued him. He wanted to ask how they knew, but asking was the equivalent of letting them know the were right.
The fact they were even dropping hints indicated they weren't going to join the light, so that was all that mattered at the end of the day. It was good to have friends that weren't part of the whole light and dark or the war at all actually.
"We'll see." Harry heard Tom comment. "I assume the McKinnon's are going to be there?" it wouldn't be the first time they'd decided to go somewhere and conveniently where Harry suggested they were there. Both were aware that he had killed Marlene McKinnon.
"You do realize they can't leave the estate often? You'd think something like that would be running smoothly…" Harry said amusedly, shaking his head. He could feel Dobby keeping up with them, but with a great deal of difficulty. Of course, not only were they going fast, but Dobby had been beaten up.
"Same reason as me," Voldemort said dryly, "Only less exasperating, for I am not entirely responsible for them in all ways. My followers have their own properties, money, means and do not need me to take care of their property maintenance, they do not require money from me etcetera." And the McKinnon's had a lot of family in their clan. It left them both very busy, so much so that Lord McKinnon actually felt like contemplating retirement and letting his son handle all this. So, that he and his wife could enjoy their lives before the likes of old age claimed them. Unfortunately, things were different in clans to how they did things in the rest of wizarding world. Up to and including the fact most chieftains retained their title until they died, and then their eldest child took over – used to be eldest son – or second eldest if the case may be.
"My Lords," Lord Crabbe said reverentially, bowing his head in respect, acting as if he hadn't just moments ago been passed out on the hallway floor. His body was protesting angrily at the abrupt movements. He was too old for this shit, but he knew better he'd be in a lot more pain if he showed disrespect – thinking more on the past Voldemort than now – the Cruciatus curse was genuinely the last thing he needed.
"Crabbe," Voldemort inclined his head.
"I just need to find my son then we shall be on our way," Lord Crabbe said, seeing the tenseness of the Dark Lord and knowing best what to do from past experience.
"He's not leaving, you can go without him if you like," Harry declared so strongly that Lord Crabbe flinched a little at the ferociousness of his words.
Lord Crabbe froze, worry blooming in his heart, what on earth could have his son done to upset their Lords? Vincent was smarter than that, then again…they had been drinking. His stomach dropped like a stone, fear causing his nausea. "My Lords?" he asked, glancing between them, seeking understanding where there was none at the moment. Heart pounding violently against his ribcage.
"Retrieve Lord Parkinson, Lord Bulstrode, Lord Goyle and Lord Malfoy from wherever they're currently sleeping and have them situated in the library within a few minutes." Voldemort declared his tone impassive.
"Yes, My Lord," Lord Crabbe agreed, worry churning in his gut, he didn't allow that to make him pause. He immediately set out to do their bidding, wondering just what fresh hell his son had gotten into. If he had done something…he wouldn't be getting back here unless called. So, he could say goodbye to spending time with his friends.
"I've never really noticed one way or another, but does Lord Bulstrode get any respect around here? Millicent is a half-blood." which means Lord Bulstrode had married either a Muggle-born or fellow Half-blood.
"Lady Bulstrode was powerful, respected in her own right despite her lack of…full magical ancestry." Lord Voldemort told him, "So much so that she was actually given the mark." She died during the last war.
Harry glanced up in surprise, it was rare for witches to be given the mark, Bellatrix was one of the rare few. Not even Narcissa had been given the mark and she was quite powerful, nearly as much as her sister.
Harry and Voldemort stepped into the library, where they were sleeping in what was extremely uncomfortable angles. Narrowing his eyes, he flicked his wand and unholy loud banging reverberated around the room as the firework spell did the trick.
It had each of them yelping in fright, scrambling to get up, covering themselves, others uselessly flailing and patting around for their wands.
Not that the sight that greeted them was all that better once they regained their bearings.
Honestly? To an outsider it would be two furious parents, glaring at their child in disappointment. With the disciplinarian even more furious.
A/n * Drooth means thirst, a dryness it's a Scottish term 😉 my mum says it all the time 'I've got a drooth on me that could choke a horse' 😊 just know that no harming of any animals came from her comments 😉
A/N 2 – I'm posting this chapter as it is, I've no idea when I'll be back on, but don't be concerned about any absence okay? I need time to grieve, my brother is gone, for all of a couple of grand of stolen items (TV, laptop, phone) if they're even worth that, I still can't get my head around that, hell, I can't even say the word.