Chapter 12: They Want To Know
Okay, here's the next chapter. The first part is a bit gory.
DaughterOfIris23 and Dashti-the-dramione-shipper are the betas for this chapter.
HP-BTVS-HP-BTVS
Harry, Hermione, and Neville were walking towards the Great Hall when suddenly Harry was hit with a Stunning Spell, grabbed from behind by his robes, and lifted over the shoulder of Professor Quirrell. The other two first-years screamed and yelled at the professor to let their friend go. They grabbed Harry's feet and tried to pull him off the obviously crazed man. Other nearby students drew their wands to help the first-years. Quirrell then stunned the other two kids, erected a strong barrier, and ran down the hall. Some tried to give chase, but the barrier was too strong. A few went to get the professors and Mr. Harris.
When Harry woke again, he was tied with a rope around his upper body and arms, and everything was a bit blurry. His glasses had fallen off. He didn't know who had taken him, or why. He could hear a man muttering about a stone, but he couldn't see him. There was a blur he thought might be the teacher-turned-traitor moving back and forth in front of him, muttering wildly about the stone being gone, the traps being dismantled, and other things Harry had no clue about. He kept lamenting about a whole year wasted, unicorn's blood, and how he was cursed for nothing.
"Quirrell, the boy is awake," hissed a voice that seemed to resound throughout the room.
"Potter, tell me where the stone is. The protections are gone, and I know your bodyguard has something to do with it. He must have told you," a voice that Harry recognized as Quirrell's demanded without a single stutter.
"Um, I don't know what you're talking about. What stone?" the poor boy said, quivering with fear. For all Xander was teaching him, he still reacted adversely when adults made demands. Years of abuse from the Dursleys had made him fearful of punishment. He slowly wiggled his hands to see if he could get free and retrieve his invisibility cloak from his pocketspace. Xander had set it up so he could store his precious items and use them in emergencies such as this. His fingers moved, but the ropes just tightened. Magical ropes then. He'd have to think of something quickly; he didn't want to die here.
"Don't give me that, boy. I know that Harris has let you in on many of his secrets," the angry professor growled, grabbing the tied-up child and shaking him.
"Fool, let me speak to him," the hissing voice said.
"Are you su-?" was all Quirrell got out before he dropped Harry and clutched at his head in pain.
"Do not question me," was the venomous reply.
"I'm sorry, Master, forgive me," the professor pleaded, tears of pain running down his face as he quickly unwrapped his turban. When he turned, Harry saw a face on the back of his professor's head. Well, he thought it was a face, since he still couldn't see. However, the bottom half moved like a mouth, so he figured he was right.
"Harry Potter, do you see what you have reduced me to? A parasite that must survive from the lives of others. I will regain my body one day and I will have my revenge," the face said menacingly.
"Voldyshorts?" Harry asked incredulously, using the name Xander called the… man.
"Do not call me that insipid name," Voldemort said, incensed, making Quirrell turn and fire the Cruciatus Curse at the tied-up boy.
Harry screamed. Nothing the Dursleys had ever done to him had prepared him for the pain he felt now. Every nerve of his body was on fire. Then, just as quickly as it had started, it stopped. He lay shaking on the floor, yelling in his head for Xander.
"Tell me Harris's secrets, boy, or I'll make the next one last longer," the vile man threatened.
"I…I... don-don't know any," the hurting child lied. He wasn't going to tell this person anything. He'd die first.
"You lie." The wand turned on Harry again. Pain-filled cries filled the air once more.
Harry could feel nothing but pain. He wanted so bad to do something, but the agony he was in made it so he could not think. In his mind he continued to call for Xander to come and end the pain. Sending out mental signals to his foster- soon to be adoptive -father. The love that he realized he felt, for the first time in his life, overcame some of the pain. He breathed a bit easier, and with that thought the ropes fell away, which did not help his thrashing at all. He raised a shaky hand and cast the blinding Lumos as he writhed on the ground. The spell stopped, but his body still shook with painful tremors and all he could do was lie on the floor and whimper.
That's when, out of nowhere, Xander appeared at the end of the chamber.
Taking in the situation quickly, the blinded man, his son crying, Xander pulled his 12-gauge shotgun, pumped and fired. The noise in the small room was deafening. One side of Quirrell's head flew apart in a great mass of blood and gore. The coppery smell of blood filled the air. As the body fell, a black smoky-like spirit rose from it, screaming.
When shields were erected over both Xander and Harry, the angered spirit flew through the wall, all the while vowing revenge. Xander dropped the shields and put his gun away as he ran to his son, cradling him in his arms. This seemed to hurt Harry, so he gently laid him back down.
"Harry," he said softly, frustrated that he couldn't take his foster son in his arms and reassure him, "I'm going to get you out of here. Hold on, okay?"
"It hurts, Xander," Harry said softly, trying to hold back his tears, trying to be brave. They leaked anyway, running down the side of his face and wetting the stone floor below.
"I know, Harry. You were very brave. I'm going to take you to Poppy. Do you know what he hit you with?" the distraught man asked, trying not to jostle the boy as he attempted to give comfort. It appeared that everywhere he touched made the pain worse. Even Harry's hair.
"I…it was a p…pain spell. I…I've never f…felt anyth…anything like it," Harry stuttered out. Then he realized that the pain had dissipated some, and he sighed with relief and promptly passed out. Xander was here. He was safe.
Xander levitated his still shaking son, vanished, and reappeared in the Hospital Wing.
"Poppy!" he yelled, bringing the matron running. He eased Harry on the nearest bed, and Harry grimaced at the contact even in his unconscious state.
"Do you know what he was cursed with?" Madame Pomfrey asked upon seeing the prone figure. She waved her wand to diagnose the boy, but firsthand accounts always made it faster.
"No, but it caused a lot of pain. And I mean a lot of pain. I've never seen anyone in that much agony," Xander explained, stroking Harry's hair. And that was saying something. He had seen people tortured by 'gods' and other supernatural beings, but he had never seen anything like he just witnessed.
"Oh, the poor lad, it must have been the Cruciatus Curse," she sighed, waving her wand to make Harry more comfortable. The bed grew softer, akin to a mattress of air, the pillows fluffed, and the blanket became lighter. There was little else she could do to help him. He would recover on his own, but it would take time.
"What's that when it's at home," the concerned man asked, grabbing the nearest chair.
"It's a pain curse," she explained. "I've heard it described as thousands of white-hot knives being plunged into the body at the same time. Since there is no real physical damage, we don't have a cure. We think it effects the pain receptors, making them send out signals that the body is in pain. If used long enough, it causes such severe mental trauma that the person goes into a catatonic state. It has been studied, but research has stalled since the end of the war. Politics, you know. All I can do is make him comfortable. He will recover on his own."
"I'm going to kill that 'Dark Lord.' The last thing he sees on this earth will be my face," Xander vowed, meaning every single word. He was determined to protect his child.
Harry woke the next morning. Xander was sitting at his side. He looked like he had slept in his clothes, and there was a five o'clock shadow on his jaw. He must have been here all night. Harry smiled softly.
"How did you find me?" the tired boy asked when he saw that his father was awake. He looked over to find his glasses, but they weren't in sight.
"I heard your call," Xander answered, giving him a warm smile.
"Really? I need to study that. If I can mentally talk to people that would be awesome," Harry enthused from his prone position. Then he frowned. "Do you know where my glasses are?" he asked, not liking that everything was a blur.
"I didn't see them anywhere, but we'll get you new ones. Or contacts. I don't like that you were put at the disadvantage like that. I'll ask Poppy if there are any magical ones," Xander said, trying to be reassuring.
"Okay. How long do I have to stay here?" he asked, struggling to sit, but giving it up as a lost cause. His body was still shaking, and he couldn't make his back move the way he needed it to.
"Not long. Poppy said there wasn't much she could do. Your shaking will go away on its own in about a day, so don't worry about that," came the reassuring response.
"Good. Hey, are Hermione and Neville okay?" Harry inquired anxiously.
"Yeah, they were only hit with a stunner. Considering who cast it, they got off lightly," Xander said, gently stroking the boy's hair, noting that it didn't seem to cause him any pain now.
"Good." And then the room fell into silence until Xander spoke once again.
"Harry, I know you don't want to hear this right now, but we've gotta talk to the cops. I killed a man, so I needed to report it. I Floo-called them yesterday and they came and looked at the scene, but someone will come talk to us today. So, if you want, we can give them your memories, or you can tell them what happened," Xander explained.
"Do I have to talk about it?" the shy boy asked, not really wanting to relive the night before.
"No, but take it from your old man, it helps," Xander replied gently. He knew that to be true. Giles made them recount all their missions. It did help make it seem less real. Like it had happened to someone else. Well, it did for him and Buffy. Willow never got over some of the nastier things. She held onto them like a dog with a bone. It was one of the many reasons why she had tried to destroy the earth. Too much pain, she had said. He really hoped talking about it did for Harry what it did for him.
"Okay, I'll try," Harry said softly. He wanted to do all he could to help catch Voldyshorts.
"Thatta boy."
Half an hour later, Dumbledore led someone into the room. "I am sure we can do this quietly," he was saying to the woman.
She was middle-aged, with greying, dark hair. A sturdy woman, who wore a monocle on her left eye. She looked like she didn't take crap from anyone. "We will do what is necessary," she countered. "Don't think I am still not upset with you for getting Snape free. You made my people look bad," she snarled at the headmaster, and Xander could tell she was pissed.
"Very well," the old man sighed, bringing her to Harry and Xander. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Harris, this is Amelia Bones. She is the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
"It's nice to meet you, ma'am," the ever-polite Harry stated. He squinted his eyes to see if he recognized her, but no, he had never met this woman from what he could tell.
"Yeah, nice to meet cha," Xander said, looking her over to see what she was made of. He liked what he saw.
"And you both, as well. Let's get started. Mr. Potter, can you tell me what happened?" she asked kindly, taking a seat on the bed next to the boy and pulling out a parchment notebook and a never-ending-ink quill.
"I'm not really sure. I know I was walking to the Great Hall for lunch with my friends, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. I was hit from behind and woke tied up without my glasses. I know that it was Professor Quirrell, and that he had Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head. He kept muttering about a stone, traps, unicorns, and wasting the year. But I don't know what he was talking about. Then Voldyshorts hit me with a spell that made me feel a lot of pain. He wanted to know something that I wouldn't tell him, and so he hit me again. It hurt really bad," Harry described his short encounter with the Dark Lord.
"What did he want to know?" she asked jotting it all down.
"I can't tell you, ma'am. I made a vow," he said shyly. It wasn't a real magical vow, more like one the non-magicals would make. But Xander had said to say that if anyone asked.
"Well, it can't be helped then," Bones said, giving a look of disapproval. Like she didn't like that the child had the burden of a vow.
"I know what it is, and I can tell you in private," Xander said, giving Harry a brilliant smile. "You did good, kid," he added, ruffling Harry's hair.
"Very well. Mr. Harris, can you tell me what happened after that?" she inquired, quill poised to take notes.
"I popped in, saw that Harry was in pain and that he had blinded Quirrell, so I shot Quirrell. He hurt Harry," were the succinct answers, accompanied with a shrug.
"Shot him with what?" the confused woman asked. The wounds on the deceased didn't indicate an arrow.
"A gun," Xander answered simply.
"Oh," she said. "I've heard of guns, of course, but I've never witnessed firsthand what they could do. After seeing Quirrell's remains, I admit to being fascinated. I will tell my Aurors not to take them lightly anymore. May I see it?"
"Sure." He reached behind him, pulling out the long gun.
"What type of gun is this?" Bones wondered aloud.
"It's a 12-gauge shotgun. I wanted to make sure the bastard died," Xander said with a shrug. He then put the gun away, glad the pocketspace cleaned everything. He hadn't even thought about it last night. He had been too worried about his son.
"I see. I noticed that the man's hands are gone. Do you know what happened to them?" Amelia asked.
"Goblin trophies," Xander answered with a vicious grin. He liked that aspect of goblin victories. Since the head was mostly gone, the hands that hurt his child would work just as well. He had removed them when Harry was asleep, right before he called the cops. A quick pop down, a severing charm and presto… trophy. He had only been gone a few seconds.
"So, the rumors that you are now the Goblin King are true?" she asked, looking very startled, as if caught by surprise.
"Yep," was all the answer she got.
"I see," she said again as she jotted something down.
"Harry," started Dumbledore, only to quickly change it to "Mr. Potter" when Xander glared at him, "I was wondering if Voldemort said anything else?"
"Not really," Harry responded, rubbing his nose with a shaky finger, thinking hard. "I mean, he did mention that he was going to get a body."
That made Amelia gasp. "A body?" she questioned aloud.
"Yeah, he said he was living as a parasite, though I'm not sure what that means. He didn't look like a worm. He said he was living off the lives of others… oh, okay. Anyway, he said that he was going to get a body and get his revenge. Does he mean on me?" he asked in a frightened voice.
"Not if I can help it," Xander snarled, grabbing Harry into a hug. He known Harry for less than a year, and already thought of the young boy as a son. He wasn't going to let some namby-pamby Dork Lord take him from him. He had faced down pissed off slayers, crazy witches, vampires, ghosts, demons, gods, and the First Evil. Voldyshorts didn't compare to any of them.
"I fear, you may have no choice, what with the prophecy," Albus said with a final air.
"What prophecy?" Amelia demanded.
"Oh dear," Dumbledore said, bringing up his wand and pointing it at her head.
"No!" Harry cried, putting out his hand and calling the wand to him. He didn't know what the man was going to cast, but he wasn't going to let the old man spell the nice woman.
"What do you think you are doing, Dumbledore?" Bones asked with righteous fury, quickly standing and pointing her wand directly at the old man.
"Forgive me, Amelia," Albus said, shaken that the Death Stick was now in the hands of a child. "What you heard was a state secret. I was only doing my duty as Chief Warlock."
"I see," she muttered, lowering her wand, but keeping it ready.
It was in his remit to make sure state secrets didn't come to light. If it was a state secret. She couldn't even check. If she didn't have clearance, they wouldn't allow her to find out. She quickly recited a vow to not tell about the prophecy, hoping the man would leave her mind alone.
"Mr. Potter, may I have my wand?" Dumbledore asked rather desperately.
"I can't give it to you," Harry said, trying to hand it over. "It won't let go."
"Oh dear," mumbled Dumbledore.
"Harry, put it away for now. We'll sort it out later," Xander suggested, wondering how a wand could have control over Harry's actions. He was going to have to research that.
"Okay, Xander," Harry said, tucking the wand in his recently created pocketspace, making it look like he just put it under his pillow.
"I believe that is my wand," protested Dumbledore.
"You heard him; it won't let him give it to you. Besides, don't you guys have the rule of 'to the victor go the spoils?'" Xander inquired unsympathetically. He wasn't going to let the headmaster push Harry around.
"Yes, we do," Bones intervened. "Let it go," she told Albus.
Dumbledore sighed and shot a quick look to where the wand had disappeared. "Very well. I have duties I must attend to. Amelia, you know your way out." And with that, the old man left, plotting his next move.
"Now, Mr. Harris, if we could go and discuss the secrets You-Know-Who wanted," Amelia said to Xander, gesturing to the other side of the room.
"Sure, why not," Xander said as he followed. He wanted her to think that he had kept more secrets from Harry. No one needed to know what Harry knew. "Call me Xander. Mr. Harris makes me feel like I'm about to be yelled at," he offered, his mind shuddering at all the times he was yelled at by people using his last name. Principal Snyder was the worse. "I'll be right over here, Harry," he called over his shoulder.
The two adults went a short distance away, keeping Harry in sight. They put up a privacy charm and conjured chairs.
"What are these secrets?" Bones asked, putting her notebook and quill away.
"Well, there's the fact that I can fly without a broom. Or hey, the fact that I can walk through walls. Or even the fact that I don't use a wand. Take your pick," the smug man replied.
"How did you accomplish these things?" Madam Bones inquired, completely flabbergasted.
"Magic goes wonky around me. I just use it to my advantage. It's a secret though. Not even Dumbledore knows, and I'd like to keep it that way," Xander stated firmly. He had learned the Obliviate from Minerva, but he really didn't want to use it on the head cop.
Amelia quickly gave yet another vow. "Is there any chance you can teach these things to my Aurors? If not now, then in the future?" she asked. "It would be a great boon for them. No criminal would hide away in secret rooms anymore. Broken brooms would no longer be a problem. The things they could do…" she muttered to herself, just loud enough to be heard.
"Right now, we're keeping it on the downlow. But, if my plans play out, then everyone will know. We've gotta set up safeguards and all that. Don't want the criminals to do what we do," Xander said, deflating her hopes.
"I see," she sighed. "Well, I must be off. I want to say hello to my niece. If I have any questions, I will contact you," she said, dismissing the privacy charm and dispelling the chairs. She made her way back to the bed. "Mr. Potter, it was nice to meet you. I wish you a speedy recovery."
"Yes, ma'am, thank you, ma'am," the shy boy said, waving in her general direction.
"If you need us call," Xander said, sitting back in his chair.
She just nodded and left.
"That wasn't so bad," Harry said with relief after she had gone. He thought it would be much harder.
"No, it wasn't, but we are going to up your training. I'm going to get you in shape this summer, so be prepared to work hard."
"I'm used to hard work," the boy said, slightly miffed that his foster father thought he was lazy.
"Chores, even all the ones you did, are not the same as a good old-fashioned workout," Xander chided.
"Whatever you say, Xander," Harry said, rolling his eyes, showing that he was going to hit puberty soon.
"You'll see," the wolf-eyed man warned.
Poppy came to check on Harry and conjured him a pair of glasses that would last him the rest of the school year. The two males then spent the rest of the day making summer plans. The house Harry had liked had been purchased, and Emma was decorating it. She swore it was going to be manly, so they had to trust her.
Harry was given the all-clear around dinner time, so they made their way to the Great Hall. When they got there a silence fell over the student body. Xander turned to Harry and put up a silencing bubble.
"Okay, Harry, we can do this one of two ways. You can tell them what happened or ignore it and live with the rumors that will spurt up," the older man said quickly. They had learned after the First that you needed to get your story out, even if it was bending the truth until it squeaked.
Harry thought deeply about what Xander was saying. He remembered all the rumors about when he didn't answer his mail. The misinformation that almost saw him mobbed. If he got it out of the way now, then perhaps that wouldn't happen again.
"Okay, I'll tell them," he said shakenly. He trusted Xander.
"Good man," Xander complimented, clapping him on the shoulder.
They made their way up to the front of the Hall and stood before the staff table.
"Okay, listen up," Xander said, projecting his voice with his own charm. Anyone up by the Staff Table would be heard. "Harry is going to tell you what he remembers. If you don't believe it, too bad. This is what he knows to be true. If you have questions, we'll answer a few. Hermione, Neville, Hagrid, come up here and verify what you can," Xander stated as he pointed to the three people.
They quickly made their way toward Harry and Xander.
"Mr. Harris, I must protest," Dumbledore said, standing from his throne-like chair.
"Yeah, see, I'm Harry's guardian, so you can't protest this. It is for his safety," the wolf-eyed man said firmly.
With nothing left to argue about that wouldn't see him booted, Albus sat down, frowning.
Joyce and Minerva decided to stay silent and let only those that were there handle it. They did get up and stand behind Harry for support.
The five of them told everyone what had happened from their point of view, from the killing of the unicorns to Voldemort fleeing, and then opened the floor to questions.
"Were you scared?" asked a small first-year from Ravenclaw.
"Very," Harry confirmed. That caused quite a few snickers, which were quickly quelled by Xander's yellow-eyed glare.
"Yes, he was scared. You would be too. The important part is he did his best to get away. Remember, bravery is being courageous despite fear," the wolf-eyed man stated, then pointed to another child.
"Did the unicorn live?" came the question from a fourth-year female Hufflepuff.
"She's alrigh'," Hagrid said, beaming at the girl.
"I don't believe it was the Dark Lord. He would not fall to the likes of you," Draco Malfoy stated, glaring at the group on the platform.
"Believe what you like and sit down. You know what happened ten years ago, quit being facetious," Xander growled, twitching a finger making the boy sit with magic. He had the feeling this kid was going to be trouble all through Harry's years here.
The 'when my father, blah, blah, blah,' refrain was heard and was promptly ignored.
"Can we see the gun?" ask a muggleborn boy from Gryffindor.
Xander pulled it out and raised it in the air. "This is as close as you're getting to it," he said, moving around a bit to show what it was. There was no way he was letting a bunch of kids get up close and personal with a gun. That way led to disaster.
The muggleborns in the Hall were quickly telling the disbelieving purebloods what it was and what it could do. It was too radical of a notion for them. However, many of them had heard the Aurors talking about what the body looked like, so there might be some truth in what they were hearing.
"Can you show us what it does?" one Slytherin asked, a curious look in his eyes.
Xander conjured a pumpkin, floated it to the side of the Staff Table and fired. The pumpkin exploded, making many scream. He then put the gun away. "Never handle a gun, that is what happens when one is fired. There is no shield for it," he warned. "Any other questions about that night?" he then pointed to an older boy.
"He wants a body? Does that mean he's not dead?" asked a seventh-year pureblood Slytherin with a small quiver in his voice. Seems not all Slytherins wanted the Dark Lord back. Xander made a note to look into that.
"No, he's not dead," Xander confirmed. "However, I will do my best to make sure he never comes back," he vowed loudly, over the murmuring.
A lot of the kids relaxed. Mr. Harris had made quite an impact on the student body. His killing of the troll and Quirrell made them believe he would do what was necessary to protect them.
"Perhaps we should eat now," Dumbledore suggested decisively, giving Xander a knowing look. Which, the yellow-eyed man interpreted that the Headmaster didn't want those questions asked and answered.
"Sure, we're done," Xander said with a shrug, releasing the charm and herding the kids to their table. "You guys heard the story, so don't go asking anymore questions," he told the Gryffindors, looking pointedly at the first-years. The girls were known gossips, and Ron, while not as bad as he had been, still threw fits of jealousy now and then.
"We won't," Lavender and Parvati said quickly.
Ron just slumped in his chair at the look Percy gave him.