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Chapter Seventeen—Greater Things

Harry leaned back and rubbed his hands over his eyes. Then he leaned forwards and read the book again. He had to make sure that it did say what he needed it to say, and that his tiredness and watering eyes weren't making him only think it did.

To become a leader of an organized small group among mages, the kind that the ignorant call a Lord or Lady, a number of things are necessary. The open challenge to the prior leader, in public. This will ensure that others are aware of one's power and that one has the right to exercise that power.

The demonstration of a specific kind of power that the former leader also has. This will show that the followers will not lose anything special or important by changing their allegiance.

The demonstration of a specific kind of power that the former leader does not have. This shows the potential followers that they will want to change their allegiance and can gain a new kind of protection or other advantage from following the new leader.

The demonstration of an ethic of care and protection. This will cause a groundswell of trust and belief that will shatter the mental or magical bonds that the former leader might have been using to retain followers.

The unshakable belief that this is for the best, that one will be a good leader. This will create the kind of magical compulsion that forces the former leader to accept the challenge.

The defeat of the former leader in a formal duel, at which time the ability of that leader to hold onto his or her followers will diminish below the recovery point.

Harry sat back with a long sigh. He'd done the open challenge. He would have to demonstrate that he had Parseltongue, probably. It was the only thing he could think of that both he and Riddle had in common and that he was willing to demonstrate.

Besides, watching me writhe on the ground because Riddle is angry and my scar is hurting isn't going to impress anyone.

The power that he doesn't have…

Harry held back a sour laugh with an effort. Dumbledore had told him he had some power the Dark Lord knew not just before he'd vanished from his own time. Harry would have to find some way to make that real here.

And then a thought suggested itself to him. Riddle would have already made the diary by now, if Harry had his timelines right. When he thought about it, he'd heard a few people mention a monster and attacks from last year, although in low voices, as if speaking of the basilisk would summon it back.

Harry couldn't go into the Chamber of Secrets and convince the basilisk to obey him, not when Riddle still existed and sneaking down there would get people suspicious of him anyway. But what if he could take the diary away from Riddle? It would mean that he had some kind of insurance to use against him, and it would also literally be a power that Harry had which Riddle didn't. Anymore.

Harry grinned fiercely to himself. The other parts weren't going to be a problem. Harry didn't care to lead Riddle's Knights, but he did care about setting them free and giving them a choice and stopping Riddle from torturing them. That ought to be enough for the magical requirements of taking them away from Riddle.

For the rest…

I need to make sure that I irritate him enough into accepting a formal duel offer or making one himself.

Harry doubted that was going to be a problem, either. If there was one thing he was bloody good at, it was irritating Tom Bloody Riddle.

"Melania. Welcome home, my dear."

Orion smiles as he watches his mother lean lightly into Father, who kisses her on the cheek. She's still poised and polished, as if she plans to entertain a crowd with her illusions like the one she just came from. She wears silver net robes with a high collar and wide sleeves and slightly darker silver panels down the front, and her silver-gold hair is caught up in a net, too.

"Hello, darling," Mother breathes back to Father, and then turns to Orion and smiles like the moon rising. "Hello, Orion."

"Hullo, Mum," Orion says, and steps forwards to let her embrace him and kiss him. He can see her curiosity when he steps back. She probably thinks that he wouldn't want to act so "childish" in front of a guest. Orion motions with his head at Harry. "And this is Harry Potter, my friend and fellow Slytherin."

"Yes, you mentioned him in your letters." Mother moves forwards with her hands out, bowing her head a little as if to study Harry's face from a new angle. "Welcome to you, as well, Mr. Potter. I am glad that my son has such a good friend."

"Um, thank you, Mrs. Black." Harry looks utterly awkward, but puts out both his hands, too. Orion smiles. Harry seems like he's pretty good at picking up on what other people do and imitating it. "I want to thank you for inviting me here for the holidays. I know that you were probably looking forward to spending time with just your husband and son, so I know that it's a little—"

"It is the first time that we have opened our home to one of our son's friends during the holidays, yes," Mother says, and summons a bright, beaming smile that makes Harry pause and chases away some of his blush. "But that is simply because our son has, in the past, not always chosen the caliber of friend he might have."

"Orion didn't have much of a choice about that, Mrs. Black."

Orion restrains his own smile with difficulty. There's the Harry he knows, firing up in defense of someone else. His cheeks are a little rosy now, and his eyes are cool and direct. And he sees the moment Mother's eyes widen and she understands exactly Harry's caliber.

"No, perhaps he did not," Mother says. Her voice is slow and thoughtful. "I did wonder why he made some of the decisions he did." She shoots Orion a glance that says he hasn't been forgiven yet for not mentioning Riddle tortured him with the Cruciatus.

"I promise that he had good reasons for those decisions. Riddle's power was pretty absolute in Slytherin. Even the people who might have been able to challenge him didn't. Orion did what he had to to survive."

Harry's voice is so earnest. And hearing himself praised like that goes to Orion's head like wine. He takes a deep breath.

"Yet you managed to challenge it, Mr. Potter. Within a few months of arriving, I'm told."

"Yeah, but I didn't grow up with it and get crushed by it for years like the other Slytherins did. And I didn't have family members I had to be afraid for."

"You are not related to the Potter family, then?"

Harry flushes harder and lifts one shoulder in an awkward shrug. "The relationship there is—complicated. I didn't really know that much about my father, and I don't even know for sure what his exact relationship with them is. But anyway, I got Riddle to concentrate on me so that he didn't even think about going after them."

"Harry grew up mostly in the Muggle world, Mother," Orion intervenes, because it'll be less awkward if he's the one to tell her that. "And he didn't plan to join Hogwarts at all until this year."

"I see." Mother's eyes are flickering back and forth across Harry's face and hair and robes, drawing all sorts of conclusions that Orion can tell are both deep and complex. "Well, Mr. Potter, you are indeed welcome in our home. But I would be curious to hear the answer to one question."

"If I can answer it, Mrs. Black, I will."

Harry is so honest sometimes, Orion thinks, a bit despairing. Of course it's probably the best way to make a good impression on Mother, but Harry can't know that. Orion would like to teach him to be a bit more calculating and save the honesty for when he can tell it'll be useful.

"What, besides your lack of years of fear and your family connections, made it possible for you to go up against Riddle? I have heard that he is an uncommonly powerful young wizard, and even those older than he was, including the professors, rarely interfered with him."

Harry lifts his chin. His eyes blaze with something that Orion doesn't know how to categorize. Not fury, but with some anger. Not fear, but remembered fear? It's rare that he finds Harry opaque, but he is right now.

"What Riddle was doing was wrong. I have power, too, and it's right that people with power stop people who have it and misusing it." Harry pauses for a second as if wondering whether he needs more words to convince Mother, and then settles on, "And I'm a Parselmouth, so that showed people he wasn't as unique as he liked to think. And I can resist the Imperius, so when he tried to use that on me, I shook it off. But mostly the first thing I said."

Mother's eyes are wider than Orion has ever seen them. He doesn't know for sure what tipped the balance—Harry's honesty, the confession of his power, the gifts he has—but he sees the moment when she makes her choice.

Her smile is gentle and brilliant, and she bends down to kiss Harry's cheek. "Welcome to our home, indeed, Mr. Potter," she murmurs. "Thank you for saving my son."

Harry turns the color of an aubergine this time. "I, uh, you're welcome, Mrs. Black."

"Please do call me Melania. I insist," Mother adds, when Harry opens his mouth as if he's going to refuse. "And I would be pleased to call you Harry, if you would grant me that courtesy."

"Yes, of course." Harry seems so flustered now that Orion moves over to stand next to him. Can't have Harry tripping over his own feet or the carpet runner. Harry gives him a grateful glance and turns back to Mother. "I, thanks, Melania."

"Have you spoken to the house-elves about dinner yet?" Mother asks, turning to look over her shoulder at Father. She hasn't let go of Harry's hands, still. "Because I think we should ask them to make Harry's favorites."

"Oh, no! I couldn't put you to the t—"

"It is a small enough reward," Mother says, and releases Harry's hands with a little squeeze. "During the holidays, we take turns asking for meals that we like, depending on whom the family feels has made the greatest contribution to the household that day. I think you have earned at least five nights of meals."

Harry seems more than utterly bewildered now, but he tucks his hands behind his back (where no one might be able to see if he is wringing them, Orion thinks) and manages to offer up a weak smile. "If you think so. Then, um, I really like shepherd's pie. And treacle tart," he adds, because Mother is obviously waiting for him to add something.

"And anything else?" Mother waves one hand, and their house-elf Talia pops into the room, waiting attentively.

Harry's eyes focus on Talia, and for some reason, he looks unhappy. Orion resolves to find out why. Maybe the environment he grew up in wasn't purely Muggle, and there was a house-elf there who had treated him badly.

"I mean, some fruit would be good. Salad. I—can the salad have lots of cheese and salmon in it?"

Harry seems to be holding his breath, as if he thinks Mother is going to take against him for his perfectly reasonable request, but Mother simply smiles, the way Orion knew she would. "Of course. Talia, take this order back to the kitchens…"

Harry watches Mother converse with Talia with a slightly puzzled expression. Orion steps up next to him. "Did wherever you live before this not have house-elves?"

"Oh, it did. Sometimes." Harry's face has gone a little grim as he watches Talia vanish.

Orion resigns himself to the fact that he won't discover all the answers to all the mysteries about Harry right away, and extends his arm. "I can lead you back to your room, if you want." It'll be an excuse to have Harry touching him, and an excuse to spend time with him, and Orion wants both of those.

"It's straight up the staircase," Harry begins, but then he looks into Orion's face and seems to change his mind. His smile is faint but there as he rests his hand on Orion's arm. "Yes, all right."

Orion half-smiles back, glad that Harry isn't entirely oblivious.

The meal went well, Orion thought, and he doesn't begrudge his parents vanishing into Father's study. They have a lot to catch up on, since Mother was gone for two months, and it can't all be talk that Harry or Orion would be welcome to listen to. Orion seeks out Harry, who left the table early, instead.

He finds him in the tapestry room, staring at the Black family tree blankly.

Orion is prepared to explain what the family tapestry is and what it does, but Harry's eyes shift to him with something that isn't ignorance in them. "This says that you have a sister," he says hoarsely. "Lucretia. I—where is she? Did I drive her away or something by coming here?"

Orion swallows. His throat feels painful. "I think you didn't notice the death date," he says softly, and touches the 1932 date beneath Lucretia's name. "She got dragonpox. Children don't get it often, but when they do, they often don't survive it."

Harry stares, and stares some more. Then he shakes his head a little and says in a dazed voice, "Of course. I overlooked it. I suppose—I'm sorry, Orion." He slips his hand through Orion's arm and squeezes it.

Orion sighs and stares at the tapestry again. "I don't really remember her," he says, making a confession he wouldn't offer anyone else, not even Mother and Father. "I was only three when she died. But I think sometimes how different my life would have been if I'd grown up with a sister, and—" He shakes his head.

"You mourn her, and then you feel silly for doing it because it's not like you knew her to mourn her."

Orion starts and turns to face him. "How in the world did you know that?" he whispers.

Harry's face is distant and his eyes locked on the tapestry, but Orion doubts he sees it. "I've felt that way about a few people in my life. Including some I technically knew, but didn't feel as if—I didn't know the heart of them. But it's all right to mourn them, Orion. That's something I had to learn, and the way I learned it was hard. I wouldn't wish that kind of learning on anyone."

Orion is quiet. He might have mocked a confession like that himself, if he were the person he thinks he was before Harry came into his life. He wouldn't have done it maliciously, but to keep from thinking about his own weakness, the loss of Lucretia that he can't admit to anyone is a loss.

Harry just bares the wound for anyone to see, and then goes on growing around it.

"Who were the people you mourned but didn't feel you had the right to mourn?" he whispers at last.

"My parents. A classmate of mine I saw die. My godfather."

Orion winces. That's a lot of people to have lost in the years that Harry has lived. "I'm sorry, too."

"Not your fault." Harry sighs and takes his hand from Orion's arm. "It's not the kind of thing that it's easy to talk about with other people, though. You're the first one that I've discussed it in any depth with."

Orion lowers his eyes to keep from giving Harry the kind of look that might make him back off. "I'm honored."

Harry turns to him, leaning his shoulder against the wall next to the tapestry. "It's not that I didn't have friends," he says, as if he thinks he has to defend himself against accusations Orion never levied or planned to levy. "But I got used to tucking away all my mourning inside myself and saying I was fine when they asked. And there was always something else going on that seemed more important than talking about it. I don't know. Maybe it's the way I grew up."

Orion thinks, for the first time, that he can understand why Harry might not want revenge on the Muggles he grew up with, even if they're part of the reason that Harry can't mourn properly. He might understand, too, why Harry went after Riddle, and why he did it after baiting Riddle carefully into that duel, instead of simply striking at him when he tortured Orion or something. There are things in the world greater than vengeance, which means there are things more important than it, too.

It's a stunning realization Orion never thought to come to. He seeks some way to cover up his emotions, and ends up at, "My mum really likes you, you know."

Harry blinks, and then laughs. His cheeks are bright with his flush again. "I suppose that comes from me saving your life?"

"And my honor."

Orion didn't mean to get so serious, but Harry's blush just gets brighter. "Er…"

"My mum has hinted to me sometimes that I'll need to think about getting married, but she—I don't think she really liked any of my choices," Orion says in a rush. This is something else that he couldn't confess to anyone but Harry. "I never talked about anyone that way, and what she knew of my classmates, she didn't like."

"And you really don't think they were planning to marry you to Walburga?"

"Why are you so stuck on that, Harry? No I'm pretty they sure they weren't."

"Something some of the older Slytherins said," Harry mumbles. "They said that Blacks tend to marry into the family, as it were."

Orion shrugs. "It's not unknown. There are so many of us that we can often marry without any closer relationship than second cousins. Or we marry someone who had Black ancestry a few generations back. But I've never showed any interest in any of my cousins. And I wouldn't give you up now."

Harry's eyes blink closed for a second, and Orion wonders what's hiding behind his lashes. But when he looks at Orion again, his eyes are as bright as suns, and unshielded.

"Good," he says. "I don't want to share the one person who makes me feel the most alive."

He leans forwards and kisses Orion for the second time, his hand balanced on Orion's shoulder. This time, Orion isn't too shocked to kiss back, or wind his arms possessively around Harry's waist.

He can't imagine giving Harry up, either. No matter what challenge comes up in the future, or if someone competes with him for Harry's attention, or if Harry tells him some secret that confirms he had a horrible life before this.

He's committed.