Author's Note: READ ME! My deepest condolences to everyone in Great Britain. Yes, the sixth book is out, but please don't tell me anything from it, as I have not read it yet. For those of you wondering, this story will continue on its original path and will not draw in elements of the sixth book. Only the first five. Okay, I'm sorry about the update. I know I haven't updated in two weeks. I have a boyfriend now (He's a nice and welcome surprise!), but now that we know how the other works (Minds out of the gutter, people!), I'll be updating again at my usual times. Thanks again to all for reading.
Questions:
Harry/Hermione: No.
Harry/OC: Unlikely. Highly unlikely.
Snape's Black Eye: There has been such a huge response to this that I will shortly be posting a stand-alone one chappie of Snape getting his black eye. Try not to riot too much out of happiness.
Remus: The man should have been in Slytherin, for all of his cunning. Think about his actions and you'll figure it out. His contact with Harry will be critical.
Number of chapters: No idea. It's going to be long. That's all I know. Of course, I could cut something out…
Wandless magic: Patience.
The pace: About to pick up. Hope you all can keep up.
"Behind door number two, a human! My perfect record stands!" Harry smiled at Zen's announcement from his cage.
"Hey, Harry. Give me just a second here, okay?" Harry nodded and went over to Zen's cage. Zen reared up and gave a fairly good imitation of a bow.
"Hello and good day, my lightening child!" Zen said with what Harry was calling his hyper voice. "Have you a mouse?" Zen eyed Harry with suspicion.
"No, no mouse. Sorry. Why do you keep calling me 'lightening child'?" Harry asked in frustration.
"Lightening child is your name among the snakes, Harry. That is what we call you." Zen paused and looked over at Paul. "Has he a mouse?" Harry shook his head and Zen's head dropped in disappointment. "Pity." He noticed Harry's look. "You have a question?"
"How do snakes know about me? How do you know about me? You've been in a tank for years now." Zen gave Harry a funny look and seemed to shrug, if snakes were able to shrug.
"There is more than one way of speaking. That is all I know." He curled up on his warm rock and looked at Harry. "I can hear any snake that gets close to me. That is just the way of things." Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes under his glasses.
"Can I never be normal?" Zen found this question extremely funny and nearly fell off his rock in laughter.
"Harry, lightening is never the same twice!" Harry glared for a few seconds before he laughed. Zen looked very funny when he laughed. He threw his head back, his mouth was as wide as it could go (small wonder that he could swallow a mouse whole), and the noise he made was nothing more than a very strange hissing.
"What's that all about?" Paul asked as he came up behind Harry to look at Zen. It sounded like the snake was dying.
"He's laughing." Harry said with a small smile. "Zen is very odd, Paul. He finds the smallest things amusing." Paul nodded. Zen looked at Harry again in a hopeful way. Harry shook his head. Paul did not have a mouse for him. Paul made a small noise and moved back to his chair.
"So, how are you today?" Paul asked as he turned on the tape recorder. Harry sat on the couch and shrugged.
"Okay, I guess. Dumbledore hasn't shown up yet, so I guess that Fawkes is keeping my secret for now." Paul nodded. Sky said I'm getting better in my schoolwork."
"That's good." Paul gave Harry a smile. "I knew you could do it." Harry smiled and looked down. "You're a smart kid."
"Not as smart as Hermione." Harry said. "She's scary." Paul smirked.
"I got that feeling around her. She is kind of scary." Harry nodded. He picked up his pillow (he claimed that pillow as his own) and sighed.
"She had to go back to school. I'll miss her visits." Paul caught the odd note in Harry's voice.
"Harry, are you okay?" Harry nodded.
"I'm fine." Paul rolled his eyes at Harry's answer.
"Yeah, right." Paul drawled. "What's bothering you?"
"Nothing." Paul sat back and looked Harry over. What had changed? What was different? Why was Harry withdrawing?
"You and Hermione must be good friends." Paul started. "She must know everything about you by this point."
"Not really. We're mates, Hermione and I. Ron, too." Paul leaned back in his chair. The way he said that…
"Well, who do you talk to when things become too much?" Harry abandoned his pillow and pulled his legs up.
"Ron and Hermione." Harry's answer came in a whisper. "Mostly." Paul reached out and pulled Harry's legs down. He looked Harry in the eye.
"Everything?" Harry hesitated before shaking his head. He didn't tell Ron and Hermione everything. There was too much to be told. "Who do you talk to?" Harry shrugged. Ah, that explained it. "Do you have an adult you can go to for help?" Harry stood up and went over to Zen's cage. Paul let him go. Harry seemed to rant better when standing.
"And tell them what?" Harry demanded sadly. Paul readied the tissue box. Harry was upset, extremely so, and Paul wanted to be prepared. "What would I tell them? 'Professor, do you have a minute? Oh, it's nothing. Voldemort got into my head again and asked me to join him' or 'You know, I don't want to fight in this war'." Harry rubbed his face, sighed, and wrapped his arms around himself. "They wouldn't understand." He sniffed. "They can't understand." He gave a shaky breath. "I can't do that." Paul stood and went over to Harry. He was shocked to find that side of the office freezing. He pulled Harry to the warm side and sat on the couch with him. He offered the tissue box and smiled when Harry took one.
"Harry? I would like for you to tell an adult, any adult, what you are feeling. How this war against Voldemort is affecting you. Just try." Harry looked up at Paul, staring at him as though he had gained a few new limbs and offered to show Harry how to do the same thing.
"What do you want me to tell them?" Harry bit out. Paul wondered if his office was always this cold. "That I wonder if I will survive this war? That my friends may die, and I don't want to see them die? That I will be alone if they do, and I hate being alone?" Paul had a feeling Harry was coming, the real one. The boy was nearing hysteria. "That Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Just-Won't-Die, is afraid of doing exactly that? Or even worse, that I don't want to be apart of this war? That I don't want to be a hero!" Paul reached out and took hold of Harry's shoulders.
"Yes." The firm word and grip caused Harry to stop in surprise, opening and closing his hands as though searching for something, pondering over an entirely foreign concept. "Yes, Harry. Just like you told me." Paul made eye contact with Harry, watching as several emotions played through Harry's eyes, each more rapid than the last. Paul noticed the hand movements and pulled Harry towards him a bit. The boy did the rest. Harry's arms went around Paul and his face came to rest on Paul's shoulder.
"I'm scared." He whispered. Paul tightened his hold as Harry began shaking. "I shouldn't be, but I am." Paul reached up and carded a hand through Harry's hair. "Voldemort wants me dead, and I'm afraid that he'll kill the rest of my friends to get to me. I don't want to be alone. I don't want anyone to die." Harry did not speak above his initial whisper, and Paul didn't ask him to speak up. "I don't want to be alone." The last statement strangled Harry as he fought back tears. Paul held him as Harry allowed a few pent up tears to escape.
"You're not alone. Not anymore." Harry's grip only tightened around Paul. Paul didn't need to hear Harry say thank you. He felt it. "You've got me."
Paul walked Harry down to the gym after their session. Harry was subdued, quiet, and introspective. Paul figured that Harry was thinking over something Paul had said. "Paul, do you believe in fate?" Harry's question broke their silence. Paul looked down at him and smiled.
"It matters not how strait the gate/How charged with punishments the scroll/I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul." Paul ruffled Harry's hair and smiled again. "I believe our lives are what we make, regardless of other forces." Harry nodded and fell silent. He paused at the door of the gym.
"Thanks, Paul." Paul nodded and shooed Harry to the door.
"Sensei's waiting." Harry smiled and went through the door. Harry was getting there. He just needed some time.
"Again!" Harry allowed his arms to rest a second before falling back into his stance. Sensei was being hard on him today. Harry had no idea why Sensei was acting this way, and Rick seemed just as clueless as Harry. "Front rolls." Harry stifled a groan, because this was going to hurt and started the set. He was the last one left. The entire class had been dismissed ten minutes early and Harry had heard every single person say that they were grateful for the early dismissal. He had been kept behind. "Back rolls." Harry had a feeling he was going to be very dizzy and in a lot of pain at the end of this. He only hoped Sensei would let him go in time for rehearsal. "Stop." Harry gave his equilibrium a second to reset before gaining his feet. "Run." Sensei made a circular motion with his finger. "Three times." Harry and Rick fell in side by side and ran the perimeter of the gym. Every time they reached the starting point, Sensei would tell them to go faster. By the time they finished the last lap, Harry was nearly running full speed. "Enough." Harry decided that that was his favorite word. "Report at seven this Saturday."
"Yes, Sensei." Sensei motioned to the showers and Harry went to them with no hesitation. He rushed through his shower to find Rick waiting with the Tiger Balm. Harry removed his shirt without being told and sat down, forgetting one little thing that was different from the last time Rick had done this.
"Evan, what?" Harry cut him off with a gesture.
"I don't want to talk about it." He told Rick with a voice that told the other he would accept no argument.
"But…" Harry shook his head. He didn't want anyone else to know. "Fine." Rick started to work on his shoulders. "I don't know why he was so hard on you today." Rick told him. Harry didn't have the energy to shrug. "He must see something. Or have an idea." The tone told Harry that Rick was fishing for information. Harry obediently raised an arm when Rick tried to get at his side. "Everything must hurt, huh?"
"Head to toe." Harry answered. Rick didn't answer him, just gave an odd little snort. Harry felt Rick nudge him into a more relaxed position and Rick started on his back, carefully avoiding a few select spots. "Ow." Harry complained. Something back there was tender. Very tender. Rick dropped his hands.
"That hurt?" He asked as he rubbed the spot again.
"Ow! Yes!" Harry tried to jerk away, but one of Rick's hands kept him in place. Rick left, stuck his head out the door of the locker room, and came back, Sensei with him. Harry wished he could be invisible.
"Look!" Rick snapped. Harry pulled his knees up and rested his forehead on them. His eyes fell shut as Sensei's hands went to his back and traced the new marks there. He could feel the eyes boring into his back, looking it over. He hissed when Sensei brushed the spot Rick had found earlier.
"Why did you not tell us?" Sensei demanded. Harry clenched his eyes tighter and tried to keep back the strange feelings of having disappointed someone. Sensei came around to the front of Harry and crouched down to look at him.
"It only hurts when touched. The others don't hurt at all." Harry told him. Sensei's mouth became a firm line. "I didn't think it mattered." Sensei growled and grabbed Harry's legs to pull them down. He froze when Harry hissed again. Sensei yanked the pants leg up and inspected another bruise.
"That," he pointed to the combined lump and bruise, "does not matter?" he demanded of Harry. "When you are hurt, no matter how insignificant you think, you will tell me. Why I did not know beforehand, I do not know. I am calling your drama teacher and excusing you from practice." Harry could not work up the courage to protest. He was sufficiently frightened of his teacher enough. Sensei leaned down and picked him up from the bench. Harry latched onto his shirt until Sensei put him down on the table he used to inspect student injuries. Sensei gave him a look, but didn't say anything. He turned to Rick. "Ice him. You know how." Rick nodded and started to dig in the nearby first aid kit for ice packs.
"I would not move if I were you." Rick told Harry. Harry changed his plan of running for it, consequences be damned, and removed his foot from the floor. It appeared that the father had passed on his ability to see things without eyes. Rick returned with two ice packs and two towels. He eyed Harry for a minute before sighing. "You'd better lie on your stomach." Harry did as he was told and hid his face in his arms. Rick arranged the ice packs and sat down next to the table.
"He's angry with me." Harry said simply, trying to ignore the feeling that Rick was angry as well.
"He's angry at youfor not telling him you're hurt. He is mostly angry with himself for not seeing that you were hurt." Harry shrugged.
"I've had worse. Besides, it's not like he could have known." Harry told Rick. He sighed as the ice numbed some of the pain he had been feeling from Sensei's prodding.
"Yeah. Those scars tell me that." Rick's sardonic reply made Harry wince. He stiffened then, but didn't say anything. Rick was already upset with him. "Where'd they come from?" Harry didn't reply. He clenched his jaw as memories came back to him. They had come from a dream.
Harry did not open his eyes as familiar sensations came to the front of his mind. He wondered if ignoring the intruder would make him go away. "Harry." Oh, darn. He rolled over and opened his eyes to see Voldemort staring down at him. "Welcome back." Harry got to his feet, crossed his arms, and glared. He did not want to be here, and he made sure Voldemort knew that. "Your glares need work." What a surreal statement.
"You're lecturing me on glaring?" Harry asked, incredulous sat Voldemort's comment. "I've gone mad." Harry muttered to himself. He sank to the floor and tried to bring back his sanity. It eluded him.
"You going mad would solve several of my problems. Please, don't stop yourself on my account." Harry glared again and imagined Snape on the receiving end. Voldemort sneered at him. "Pathetic." Harry rolled his eyes and climbed to his feet.
"Why did you pull me from my dreams this time?" Harry knew he looked horrible, as he hadn't really slept the night before. Not for long, anyway. He had been reading the Occlumency books between the patrols of Jack, trying to figure out what it meant by "force of will". Did it mean he had to be stubborn to force someone out of his mind, or something else? He had hoped that the author, Hadrain Alisander, would define it, but no such luck so far. It remained a mystery.
"Have you thought about my offer?" Voldemort waved his wand and the usual comfortable room appeared. The Dark Lord lowered himself into a chair and motioned for Harry to do the same.
"My answer is still no." Harry told him. He shook his head at the offer of the chair. "I prefer to stand, thank you." Voldemort gave a disappointed sigh.
"I thought that you might say that." Harry hated the feeling that sigh gave him, like he had disappointed someone important to him. This was Voldemort. He shouldn't feel like this. Voldemort pulled out his wand and pointed it at Harry. "Either sit down or I'll make you." Harry moved forward and sat on the edge of the chair. Choose your battles. That piece of advice sounded like Sensei. Harry motioned for Voldemort to continue. If he kept the man talking long enough, someone might wake him before Voldemort resumed his Dark Lord personae.
"Now, as I was saying, I can offer you a lot. A young man," Harry distinctly remembered Voldemort calling him a boy or child on several occasions "like you, needs guidance in the wizarding world. I can offer that guidance. There is so much you don't know about wizarding society that you should know. Things that Dumbledore has neglected to tell you." Twist the knife a bit more, why don't you? Harry refrained from glaring. "You would be free from his influence and control. The Ministry would not be able to stop you. You would answer to me. Only me. My second in command." Voldemort mistook Harry sitting up as interest. "My heir, if you will."
Oh. My. God. All right, Harry. Time to bring out your Slytherin side. Just don't look him in the eye. "You mean that I could boss around the Death Eaters?" He asked as he stared into the fireplace. He had schooled his face carefully to look uninterested as possible. He was tiring fast. He had to play this carefully.
"Within reason." Voldemort answered. "They, too, would help to train you. They have a lot to teach you." Harry stared into the fire, allowed his body to relax the slightest bit as he grew a bit more fatigued, and shook his head. Voldemort looked him over and smirked. "Of course, I'll have to free a few from Azkaban if I am to let them teach you. You and your friends cost me a few of my servants." Harry shrugged.
"That's why you want me, isn't it?" Voldemort's expression darkened a bit. Oops. "Unless you have another reason." Harry amended. No need to anger him.
"I have several." Voldemort told him. He conjured a tea tray and Harry was struck by the realization that Voldemort and Dumbledore both relied on food of some sort when dealing with him. "I can make you so much more than you are. So much more a wizard." Harry collapsed backward in the chair and sighed. Voldemort seemed pleased that Harry was so tired. The dream thing that Voldmeort did always exhausted him.
"Can I go back to sleep now?" he asked. He tried not to whine.
"In a minute." Harry wanted to ask Voldemort to promise, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He was just so tired. Harry stared into the fire, all but forgetting Voldemort's presence. Paul would wake him, right? Or maybe Jack. Harry would even take Aunt Petunia at this point. He was so focused on his thoughts that he didn't hear Voldemort calling his name. A hand grabbed his arm and he reacted out of instinct. He twisted out of the grasp, slid out of the chair sideways, and proceeded to put as much distance as possible between he and his attacker. His back hit a wall and he proceeded to imitate a ball the best he could without transfiguring himself into one. Harry started to figure out what had happened. Voldemort. No wonder he had overreacted (some would have said "panicked", but Harry disliked the word). Harry was surprised Voldemort hadn't cursed him yet. Harry raised a hand to his scar, took a deep breath, and then looked up.
Voldemort was only standing there, staring at Harry as though he had never seen him before. Take it a little further, Potter. Harry looked around, as though he was searching for something, or in this case, someone. Let Voldemort draw his own conclusions. He uncurled his legs and stood, using the wall behind him for support. "Sorry." He said tiredly. "You, uh, startled me." Voldemort gave a shaky nod. Harry studied his toes. He flinched when two quick stings happened on his chest and back. He looked up at Voldemort. What?
"Our first lesson. Pay attention to your surroundings." Voldemort lowered his wand. Harry glared at him, fury giving him energy he had thought he did not have.
"I did not say I wanted your training." Harry said through his teeth. He held himself very still. He had an idea of what Voldemort had just did, and he wasn't happy about it. The Dark Lord flicked his wand at Harry and Harry felt two more lashes appear. He hadn't even seen a spell.
"You need it, more than you know." This wasn't supposed to happen. "In fact, you don't have a choice anymore." Harry was grateful for the wall supporting him, because he wasn't sure his legs couldn't hold his full weight.
" 'Offer' implies that there is a choice." Harry snapped. Voldemort flicked his wand twice more. Harry dodged, but this spell, or whatever it was, seemed to home in on him.
"It is no longer an offer. It is a privilege that I am giving you." Oh joy. Harry could feel his legs trembling. He sucked in air through his teeth as another lash joined the others. "Now, what is the first lesson?"
"Get out of my mind." Harry told him.
"Crucio!" Harry fell back against the wall, further aggravating the lashes Voldemort had given him. The Dark Lord lifted the spell and came to stand over Harry. "This is for your own good." Voldemort told him. Harry gave him a weak glare.
"Another Dumbledore." He sneered. Another lash fell on his chest, followed by a short Crucio. Oh, the Crucio made the lashings burn. It felt like Voldemort was rubbing salt into them with steel wool. Tears leaked out the sides of Harry's eyes.
"Now, what is your first lesson?" Voldemort asked, almost sounding like McGonagall asking for a definition from the class. Harry would have laughed if he hadn't been in such pain. He took a deep breath, held it, and let it out. He didn't bother trying to sit up. He knew he wouldn't make it.
"Pay attention to my surroundings." Harry told him. Voldemort gave him a pleased smile. "Sir." Voldemort's smile grew wider at the term of respect. Bravo, Harry! The Dark Lord raised his wand and Harry braced himself for more pain. He was surprised when he heard a sleep charm.
"I'll see you soon." Voldemort promised him as Harry faded away.
Harry jerked awake at the desk in his room. He had fallen asleep on his books and without clearing his mind. Perfect. He hissed when the skin on his back and chest pulled. He shook the slightest bit from the Cruciatus Curse, but he still smiled. Potter: 1. Voldemort: 0.
He ignored the pain. It was a small price to pay for what he was planning. Besides, some of the things he was learning from the books Hermione had given him made him confident that he could handle it. It was the first time he had planned something and felt confident about it. He felt like a Slytherin. This was something he could do on his own. He did not tell Paul.
Remus climbed down from the bus and allowed it to speed away. He stood and regarded the little house sitting in front of him. He had just reached Number Four Privet Drive. It looked completely ordinary. Who knew that the Boy Who Lived grew up here? He knew that the Dursleys hadn't exactly been kind to Harry. He only hoped that he would be able to talk to Petunia long enough to be reassured that Harry was fine. It would be even better if Harry was fine and happy. He knew he wouldn't find out anything standing there staring at the house. He went up the walk and rang the doorbell.
Author's Note: I hope you all liked the longer chapter. Let me know.