"Show me." Voldemort demanded once Harry stated that Snape now had a misconception of Harry being possessed by the Dark Lord.
The wand was already pointed at Harry, and it seemed Voldemort only waited for Harry's agreement. His grip on the wand was tight and the vein on his forehead popped in barely contained anger. He didn't really need Harry's consent if he was determined to get what he wanted. But for some reason, he chose to wait, allowing Harry to prepare for the intrusion into his mind. That could be thanks to a certain snake wrapped around Harry's shoulders, not looking in any way apologetic or panicked.
Regardless, even that bit of courtesy was enough for Harry to agree. It was for the better if wanted to disclose what happened in detail and also reassure Voldemort that he had no ulterior motive in this situation. He was aware that allowing someone else into your mind worked better if it was done willingly, so this way he at least had some control as to what memories to show. Strengthening his mental shields and bringing the recent memory with Snape to the forefront, Harry nodded.
Their eyes locked and Harry felt a foreign presence that squashed through his mind but only focused on a singular memory, not pushing past anything else. When it was done, Harry released a breath of relief. Voldemort leaned back, surprisingly not angry, his crimson eyes watching Harry with intense interest.
"You did a satisfactory job. Not perfect, but for now it will suffice." He finally offered his verdict.
Harry could live with that. It was enough that he didn't screw everything up. He couldn't help but ask. "Why didn't you contact Snape yourself?" He wondered about it earlier, because this was a possibility, and Harry could have very well interfered with whatever Voldemort planned on his own.
"I didn't trust him." Voldemort simply said. "You were right to observe his convenient position under Dumbledore's nose. I had my own doubts. Besides, as a professor, Quirrell has more or less the same information regarding the tricks in the corridor."
Harry deflated a bit, it made sense. "Do you think we can trust him now?"
"We'll see."
Voldemort now watched Harry thoughtfully, still twirling the wand in his hands. He looked like he wanted to say something, the hesitance was unusual.
"What is it?"
"I doubt Dumbledore will actively use Legilimency on a student. But you'll never know. If worse is to come, Potter, your Occlumency shields are extremely weak."
That wasn't what Harry expected or wanted to hear. He straightened up, "Are they?"
Voldemort nodded, "I could see you put quite an effort into constructing your barriers, but for a strong Legilimens they are nothing. Tell me, how far are you through the Occlumency book?"
"Not even halfway through," Harry admitted. It was a lengthy book and the slowest read he ever encountered.
"You will move much faster if you practise it with Legilimens." Voldemort watched him intently, and Harry stared back.
"Are you offering to teach me?"
"I believe, it would be only beneficial to both of us, since we now have shared secrets. You'll only inconvenience me if you go around with your mind like an open book."
It wasn't completely fair. While Harry made slow progress on his Occlumency, he still made progress and wasn't completely defenceless. Although, maybe all he did was defend his mind from himself in his desire to ward off strong emotions, and not much from anyone else. So he could agree that lessons would be essential if he wanted to learn how to protect his mind from outer invasion faster and more efficiently. The only thing, unlike with one pinpointed memory, practical Occlumency lessons entailed submitting his control almost entirely.
"Do you expect me to just let you inside my mind?"
Voldemort lifted an eyebrow, "Do you have anything to hide from me?"
Harry opened his mouth and closed it. "No," he eventually concluded.
It was true. Most of what he was hiding from the rest of the world, Nagini already shared with Voldemort and thinking about it, Harry couldn't come up with anything he would want to keep from the man. His earlier childhood memories were of no importance, and he had no hidden motives when dealing with Voldemort. With other people he had to hide and pretend, especially with Dumbledore, and even with Slytherins. But with Voldemort, he could just be… himself. While it put him at a disadvantage, he definitely needed those lessons. If anything, this was a golden opportunity to learn from the best, any inconveniences that would arise from experience will just have to be dealt with.
"That's settled then." Voldemort looked almost smug, but Harry couldn't blame him, and it was better than being on the receiving end of his anger. "We'll start on Saturday. In the meantime, keep your mind clear."
While Snape stopped picking on Harry ever since he noticed Harry was actually good at Potions and it wasn't a fluke, now that he thought he was possessed by the Dark Lord he avoided looking at him altogether. Not to mention forgoing all the glares and sneers he previously sent his way at any given opportunity. At some point, Snape seemed to realise a drastic change in behaviour would only raise more questions, and ignoring Harry forever was impossible. So in the end, Harry was awarded five points to Slytherin for an honestly decent potion, even though Harry knew it could be better.
Not drastically better, considering he was paired up with Goyle. But the way it was, if Goyle kept making potions with Crabbe, those two would have ended up with truly disastrous results. Harry guided Goyle to chop up the most disgusting ingredients while he proceeded with pretty much everything else. He knew that Draco went a similar route with Crabbe. While not perfect, this way they ensured decent results for each class. With more classes, Harry even started to notice that Goyle was already better at chopping the disgusting stuff and allowed him to try with other ingredients too, instructing to complete some steps by himself. Maybe by the end of the year they'll even reach something close to perfection.
It was of no importance either way, since Snape always favoured Slytherins and gave points to everyone who at least had a finished potion at the end of class. This time Snape still avoided looking at Harry when he spat out five points to Slytherin at them and Harry had to contain a smirk that threatened to appear on his face. He hoped though that Snape wouldn't be so stupefied around him all the time. Even a subtle change in behaviour could be noticeable by a particularly observant eye.
He told Snape as much after class and inwardly laughed at all the apologetic looks Snape threw him. Harry couldn't quite believe he actually had to ask for this, but here he was, nodding contentedly as Snape promised to keep expressing his hatred towards the Potter boy.
"Legilimens!"
Fast and relentless, numerous surface memories of recent days flashed before Harry's eyes until he got a grip on his mental shield, reinforcing it with a bit of a struggle. Doing this while someone else kept pushing forward wasn't the same as when he did it alone over the book. Harry's mind sank deeper and deeper, a foreign presence tagging along, discovering every crack in defence, breaking through.
Suddenly there is darkness and a sticky cold feeling overcomes all his senses. Harry looks up from his position hunched on the floor. There are small cracks in the locked door, where light comes through, illuminating enough to recognise this cramped and dusty place. A tiny spider slides into vision, tagging downwards on the invisible web. Harry considers if he should eat it, he hasn't eaten for two days, maybe three. It isn't easy to keep track of time in the cupboard. The spider begins its journey upwards now, and Harry opts to just watch, mesmerised.
He shuts his eyes with force and concentrates on darkness, emptiness, nothingness. He has to clear his mind.
Breathing heavily, he stood with his hands on his knees, the reality sharply re-emerging in his view. He blinks the memory away. It wasn't his worst, but it was deeper than most, something he didn't want to revisit ever again. But Voldemort found it, stomping past every defence with more ease than Harry expected. He was right, Harry's Occlumency needed work; if that's what happened when a skilled Legilimens entered your mind with intention, Harry was in trouble.
"That wasn't as bad as you might think," Voldemort casually twirled Quirrell's wand between his fingers. "Some of your mental shields were decent, and would stop most of the intruders who don't know what they are looking for. Or who has no intention of breaking past them no matter what. There are weak patches in them which allowed me access, and that is what you'd have to work on."
Harry nodded, his breathing gradually calming down. He was ready to try again.
Next time goes similarly, but Harry's mind is clearer now, he tried to detect his weak points, to reinforce them, but somehow only made it easier for Voldemort to push through. Voldemort didn't stop at the fleeting memories, his goal wasn't to look through them, but to keep ruthlessly destroying Harry's shields layer by layer. Harry wasn't ready to give up, but inevitably his mind submerged deeper and deeper.
He is tumbling down the stairs and shriek laughter rings through his ears. He lies there trying to discern what painful parts of his body will result in bruises and how long it will take to heal this time.
"Freak!" Dudley kicks him on the way, stomping past.
Harry takes a deep breath, not wishing to remember that pain. He evades the presence in his mind, diverting attention. He was supposed to clear his mind and construct a stronger barrier, not escape deeper. But it's already late.
"What is that?" Furiously red face of uncle Vernon is too close for Harry's liking and he turns his eyes to where Vernon points a finger in front of him. There's a smudge of dust on that finger, and Harry wonders where he even managed to find it. Harry was sure to clean every accessible surface just earlier this day. He doesn't answer, choosing to stare at the carpet.
A large hand then pushes him, and he falls on the floor, hitting his back painfully against it. Harry curls in on himself, aware of the more pain that is to come. He just has to wait it out, every slash of the belt against his side is razor sharp. He waits, he waits. Just as he peeks to see the large angry figure of uncle Vernon lifting his hand up for another slash, the image of the same body, dead and unmoving, hits him next. And suddenly Harry is calm. His reality is very different now. All the weaknesses stayed in the past. They have no effect on him anymore, they're not allowed to jump at him like this. Harry is no longer this small, nor is he weak. He can protect himself now.
A snake launches at the foreign presence similar to how it did in the memory and Harry opens his eyes to find a red contemplative gaze directed at him.
Harry refused to look away, to feel conscious or ashamed about any of the memories they'd seen. In the end, Voldemort didn't comment on any of them, "Perhaps, we should stop for today. It was the right call to go on the offensive. Read the first chapters of the book again, paying more attention to your own experience in dealing with Legilimens."
Harry could only accept the task. He was out of breath again and didn't want to comment on anything either. He moved to the door, still feeling eyes on him. Once he took the handle, Voldemort added, making Harry stop. "Do not let any of it discourage you. There is little anyone can do against a skilful Legilimens and your weaknesses are not permanent."
His memories attacked him once more, but Harry had now a better grasp of keeping them locked behind the barriers, so he pushed insignificant memories forward, trying to deceive Voldemort with them. He constructed a better mental shield this time around, something he was proud of, and he managed to ward off the intrusion for longer than before. But inevitably everything snapped and a sound of his cheek slapped accompanied the fall of the last bit of his defence.
"Do it again, boy!" Aunt Petunia shrieks as she throws away burned eggs into the bin. Harry watches solemnly because he still could have eaten those, but he knows there is no breakfast for him, and definitely not now when he screwed up. But that's only because Dudley distracted him, whining for Harry to make him toasts with jelly first. He can't explain any of it to aunt Petunia and she isn't happy with his silence either.
"Here!" She takes his hand and forces it to touch the hot stove, his fingers burning with pain, and he screams. "That will teach you not to burn anything ever again! Stupid boy!" She shoves his hand away, and Harry cradles it. He glares at Petunia, which he has never done in the past, but now, coming to his senses, he separates the memories and wishes that she burns. He watches coldly as the memory seeps to dust until there is darkness again and he is faced with reality instead.
"You applied offence again, which is good. But you'll have to return to your senses faster than that."
Harry had nothing to say but to agree and try again. He probably should care more what Voldemort saw in those memories, but Voldemort never mentioned anything, and it was easy to brush it off as something unimportant. It certainly wasn't important anymore. He didn't understand why so many of these memories kept flashing before his eyes. Voldemort just kept finding what was thoroughly hidden and almost forgotten. For Harry, it only showed how truly lacking his barriers were.
"Am I this hopeless?" Harry asked after there wasn't much progress for a few weeks. Despite managing to ward off his mind for a short while, he kept stumbling with the same mistakes. More memories swirled to the surface, something he thought was forgotten, buried a while ago along with the bodies of Dudley and Vernon. He felt nothing in particular. Seeing them again brought only regret that he wasn't able to stand up for himself sooner, but wallowing in self-pity also wasn't something that would help. Voldemort kept seeing how pathetic Harry was and kept destroying Harry's mind with ease, and bit by bit this brought a sticky feeling of self-doubt.
"I am sure that is not the case," Nagini answered. "My Master would have never suggested teaching you if he did not see potential. Not everyone has talent for mind magic, whatever you have must be enough for now."
"Not enough if I want to stand up against a Legilimency attack."
"Harry," Nagini peered at him seriously, her yellow eyes unwavering. "What you lack is years of experience. Decades even. You barely started, and the crucial part of it is that you did."
This simple observation eased Harry's doubts, giving him confidence to try again and again despite seemingly endless failures. Objectively he saw the progress was there and it was miles better than what he did on his own. But he never managed to fully stop the attack. Maybe he really shouldn't be that impatient, and for something like mind magic, mastering it for decades was indeed a normal pace.
He also had another task, to learn not only to ward off his mind but also to casually push fake memories to the forefront, so if someone attacked they wouldn't guess he was experienced in Occlumency. His barriers shouldn't be so palpable and visible. Chances are, his mind wouldn't be brutally attacked and for a casual intervention, he just had to make a few tweaks. That is what he tried to accomplish each evening before drifting off to sleep, Nagini's occasional presence bringing him reassurance.
Harry keeps reinforcing the barrier, but the attack is persistent, his defences not enough to overthrow it yet. In his mind, Harry runs, trying to get away from the laughter that follows him, Dudley and his gang chasing him and throwing stones whenever they catch sight of him. Harry is fast, but he isn't invisible. Their aim isn't the most accurate, but sometimes they get lucky, leaving Harry with a bruise or two.
He isn't weak, Harry reminds himself. But the surroundings are thick and overwhelming.
He runs and runs until he reaches a path that calls for him, whispering. In a daze, Harry steps forward and suddenly he is thrown into another memory. But he is instantly aware that it isn't his.
"Freak!" The freckled boy cries out, throwing a stone at him. It hits hard in the chest. Hot anger consumes him, the need to crush is burning in his veins. The next stone thrown in his direction is suddenly stopped right before it hits, crumbling into tiny pieces without him ever touching it. He looks with satisfaction as the boys pale in horror, backing away, so weak, so insignificant…
Harry's mind is abruptly returned to the present and he's met with Voldemort's eyes full of disgust and anger, but it wasn't aimed at Harry. There was something else in those eyes, but Harry couldn't quite decipher.
"Was it…" Harry's scar was blazing hot pulsating with pain, pain, pain. He took a shuddering breath to compose himself. "Was it your memory? I didn't mean to…"
"Surely, you didn't," Voldemort snapped, his face now an impassive mask. Harry needed no other confirmation to know his guess was correct. After all, there wasn't anyone else linked to his mind at the moment.
It was strange, though, how easily he slipped into Voldemort's mind without initiating it. He had to be more careful next time. If Voldemort even allowed for the next time to happen after hissing at Harry to get lost.
Once Harry was in his bed, he thought about the memory in more detail. Harry wanted to learn more about the memory, but Voldemort never pried into any of Harry's own. It would be only right to keep his curiosity to himself as well. But nothing stopped him from pondering.
Nagini told him that Voldemort lived in a muggle orphanage as a child, those bullies were definitely muggles that didn't look more than six or seven and Voldemort stood up for himself and already used magic with intention. Harry closed his eyes, remembering his own past. In that particular memory, Dudley managed to catch him eventually and Harry was dragged to the corner out of sight and was bitten up by the gang relentlessly. They laughed and laughed and laughed, and Harry stayed silent and motionless, curled up on the ground, accepting each foot that hit him like something inevitable.
Harry blinked into the darkness, making himself aware of the surroundings, that he wasn't in that past anymore. Dudley was dead and Harry was safe. He closed his eyes once more, clearing his mind. He wasn't weak. There was no point to dwell on the past, it didn't elicit any emotions in him anymore and that filth didn't deserve any reminiscence either. He only wished, maybe, that his memories weren't so exposed for Voldemort to see. But that was already done. He needed to try harder for it to never happen again.
The Occlumency lessons still continued as usual after that, none of them commenting on the memories itself, only focusing on the mistakes and details to be improved. Harry sometimes slipped through Voldemort's mind again, but now that he wasn't caught off guard, Voldemort terminated it at once, not allowing Harry to see anything. Still, Harry managed to detect when this happened.
Through weeks, he became acquainted with Voldemort's presence to the point he could now detect him outside his mind as well. From a distance even without looking he could pinpoint where Voldemort was and Harry wondered if this was what Nagini felt all the time. For her, it must be much stronger since she was linked to her Master through a Familiar bond. For Harry, there was no bond linking him to Voldemort. And yet, for some reason he felt the connection that wasn't supposed to be there. Nothing in the Occlumency book suggested that this might happen after practising with a Legilimens and Harry didn't dare to ask.
Christmas was fast approaching, the snow all around Hogwarts creating a picture of a truly magnificent sight. Slytherins were all over themselves after winning the Quidditch match and Draco excitedly talked everyone's ear off how he'll join the team next year and become the best Seeker Hogwarts has ever seen. No one seemed too bothered to object, like it was a given. The win put even Snape in a better mood, as he dismissed the final class for the term earlier and without taking any points from anyone. However, he asked Potter to stay behind.
"I couldn't help but notice the lack of your name on the list," he said as Harry approached, showing him the list of students who would be staying at Hogwarts for holidays. The list was on the wall in the Slytherin Common Room for weeks now, and yesterday was the last chance to put your name in. Harry looked at it impassively and then at Snape, perplexed.
"That's because I'm not planning on staying?"
"Don't tell me you wish to spend the holidays with muggles?" Somehow, for the past weeks Snape stopped behaving on pins and needles around Harry, emboldened by the conviction that the Dark Lord needed to keep the act impeccable.
"Muggles? No. I was invited to spend the holidays at Malfoy Manor." Harry's tone was sweet but on the edge of dangerous. "Who am I to decline?"
Snape stilled, "I don't believe Dumbledore will approve of it."
"Well," Harry smirked, "that's none of my concern. I don't care how, but you will have to convince him that it is a good idea."
Snape's eyes twitched and he seemed to physically restrain himself from giving his thoughts on the matter. But he nodded curtly.
In the evening the same day Snape summoned him to his office, looking grim. His earlier excitement over Quidditch completely gone.
"Dumbledore agreed for Potter to attend the Yule Ball at the Malfoy Manor under my supervision but for the rest of the winter break you will have to stay at Hogwarts."
"That won't do." Harry narrowed his eyes, sending Snape his most intimidating gaze.
Snape visibly swallowed, but continued. "As your… Potter's magical guardian, he has the right to decide where Potter is allowed or not allowed to go."
"Why is that, exactly?" Harry took a chance to clear that bit of information for himself.
"Pardon?"
"Why is he Potter's magical guardian? As far as I know, he isn't a relative of his, he shouldn't have had a claim on the boy."
The only book he owned on the laws of magical Britain wasn't particularly informative, but it held a dry list of self-updating laws, rules, and bans. It clearly stated that only relatives could offer guardianship and if no one came forward, then the Minister was listed as a guardian on paper. The Minister's main responsibility then would be to sign eligibility for the ward to use governmental funds but other than that nothing was clear. Judging by his own situation Harry assumed the muggle guardian had to take care of everything else. Which still didn't explain Dumbledore.
"He was listed in Potters' will." Snape said as if it explained everything. Harry frowned, maybe it did, but somehow Harry wasn't sure what was worse, that his parents couldn't name anyone better or the fact that they honestly thought Dumbledore was the best option. Also, the will wasn't something the law book suggested, so Harry decided to look into it in more detail. Although, surprisingly and inconveniently, there weren't any books on the law in the Hogwarts library even in the Restricted Section. Not many were found in Diagon Alley either. As if wizards were completely content to stay ignorant on that part of their world, or maybe there was simply no need to sell the books on the topic so fundamental. Many should have already had them in the family libraries, something that Harry looked forward to exploring in the Malfoy Manor. He couldn't care less about the Yule Ball.
He levelled Snape once again, twirling the wand in his hands like he saw Voldemort doing. "I'm sure you will find a way around it, Severus. Permission or not, I already accepted the invitation. I would hate to be impolite to our dear friend Lucius."
At this point Harry was mostly messing with Snape, so he watched, amazed as Snape's already pale face became impossibly paler. The unspoken implication was taken as a threat. Good.
"I will speak to Dumbledore once more, my Lord."
Harry let out a contented smile, hiding away the wand. He was prepared to talk to Dumbledore himself but letting Snape handle it was easier.
When Dumbledore summoned him the next day, Harry half expected to relay all the reasonable arguments he had come up with but when he entered the office, Snape was already present there as well. Dumbledore jovially offered Harry the seat, summoning an extra chair.
Harry made sure there was a nervous smile on his face. He could practically feel Snape's glare. While Harry avoided any eye contact in the room full of Legilimency Masters he still put his proxy memories closer to the surface and strengthened his mental barriers, just in case.
"Harry, my boy. As I understand you wish to spend your winter break with the Malfoys?"
"Yes, sir. Draco invited me, and he is my best friend, and I already promised." Harry said innocently, making his voice a bit higher to imitate borderline panic.
Dumbledore placated. "It's not a problem, Harry. You can go."
"Can I?" Harry asked with big eyes, inwardly taken aback. This couldn't be so easy.
Dumbledore smiled at him, folding his hands on the table. "As it happens, Severus also received an invitation to spend some time in Malfoy Manor. So I will allow it as long as your Head of House is there with you."
Harry glanced at Snape curiously. He could imagine him furiously composing a letter to Lucius Malfoy expressing how vital it is for him to supervise Potter during his stay. Maybe even disclosing Dumbledore's reluctance to let Harry go otherwise. Harry had no illusions about the invitation, it was in Lucius' interests first and foremost, not Draco's. He had a decent relationship with the boy, but they could hardly be called friends. They talked about school and sometimes Quidditch, but Harry couldn't really get invested in conversations with him. Malfoy also was far more relaxed around Nott and Zabini, which was only natural since they knew each other for years already. Harry wanted to meet Lucius Malfoy himself, so the invitation was only too convenient for him. He could have done without the supervision, but this outcome was still better than nothing at all.
Sending Snape a grateful smile Harry beamed at Dumbledore, who sighed, "I'm glad you're making friends Harry, although I would've cautioned you against certain friendships but alas, if it already happened there's nothing I can do."
Other than outright saying that this friendship warrants caution? Harry schooled his features so that he wouldn't scoff as Dumbledore continued, "If I'd known you didn't wish to stay at Hogwarts, I'm sure Weasleys would have been more than happy to extend an invitation to you too."
Harry's eyebrows shot up, it was too bold even for Dumbledore.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I wouldn't have accepted. I have no friends among the Weasleys."
"No?" Dumbledore looked sickeningly sad. "Surely, Fred and George would be sad to hear that."
They would, for sure, find the whole conversation hilarious. If not appalling. Although, Dumbledore's insistence only made Harry more cautious about them, not the other way around.
"I believe, occasionally greeting someone in the corridors doesn't make you friends yet. Sir."
"But I'm sure, my boy, if you were to be friends with the Weasley twins, your father would have approved. Don't you agree, Severus?"
From the corner of his eye Harry could see Snape, his expression conflicted between contempt, dread and second-hand embarrassment. "Albus, certainly Potter doesn't need your help in acquiring friends." The last word was spat with clear disgust. "If that is all, I still have work to do."
"Ah, you're right Severus. Harry must also have some homework left to do." Harry didn't, but as Dumbledore winked at him, he took his chance to hurriedly leave, sharing an exasperated look with Severus Snape.
It was the first time Harry used the Floo Network, and he tried to step out of the fireplace as elegantly as possible. Draco went before him and Snape waited to shortly follow after. The most important part was to articulate Malfoy Manor as clearly as possible, which wasn't all that difficult. After some disturbing turbulence, Harry found himself staring at the shining white marble floor, and when he lifted his eyes he was greeted by the sight of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy already in a small conversation with Draco. Harry took a step aside, out of the way for Snape to arrive.
"Mr Potter," Lucius Malfoy came forward to shake Harry's hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
"The pleasure is mine, Mr Malfoy," Harry smiled politely, and Lucius nodded, diverting his attention to greet Severus Snape.
"Draco told us so much about you, Harry." Narcissa Malfoy sent him a welcoming smile, her eyes flickered over Harry's appearance and Harry couldn't help doing the same. She looked gorgeous, her elegant gown flowing with every move like a second skin, not a single spot out of place. Her silky white hair made up in an exquisite hairstyle that spoke of status and grace.
"You don't mind if I call you Harry, don't you?" Harry shook his head, fascinated, trying to figure out if the ornate glistening at the hem of her sleeves was a woven thread or a work of magic. He had never seen something with that particular effect before.
He was led through the corridors of Malfoy Manor to his guest room by a house-elf Dobby, who seemed reluctant and excited at the same time. Harry didn't pay him much mind, preoccupied with observing the impressive decor of Malfoy Manor. There were occasional portraits of similar looking blond figures, who trailed Harry with curious gazes but otherwise looked as pompous as any Malfoy would.
His room turned out to be on par with the rest of the Manor he'd seen so far. It might as well be a separate flat, with how spacious it was. Apart from a huge bed, there was also an area with a couch, armchairs, and a coffee table, adjacent bathroom and a large window with a view to the beautiful garden. Despite winter, the flowers were flourishing, white roses stood tall among the white snow, no doubt preserved by magic. This was something Harry missed seeing in Hogwarts, there were no real windows in Slytherin dungeons. While he didn't particularly mind looking at the depth of the lake, the floral scenery with sunlight was refreshing.
He was told that the dinner would be ready soon so giving the garden one last glance Harry took out his trunk and enlarged it, so he could change. He didn't get a chance to do so in Hogwarts and Harry wasn't about to sit through dinner at Malfoy Manor in his school uniform. It was a chance to finally wear all those dress robes he bought for himself during summer. While the custom-made formal attire from Twilfitt and Tattings will have to wait till Yule Ball, he still had a collection of presentable wardrobe perfectly acceptable for daily dinners in the company of upper-class purebloods.
Harry was loosening his tie when a small voice made him halt.
"Harry Potter, sir, shouldn't. Malfoys are bad, bad people."
Harry turned around to be met with huge bulging eyes of a house-elf, who Harry almost forgot about.
"What?" He asked incredulously. Weren't house-elves supposed to be loyal to their Masters?
"They are bad people and Harry Potter is good! Harry Potter should run away, Dobby can help!"
"I am not running away, Dobby. I am happy to be here." Harry said with an air of confidence that shook the small elf out of his blubbering and he stared at Harry in shock.
"But Harry Potter is good!"
Harry nodded, and then said slowly as if talking to a small child. "I am good. And Malfoys are my friends. They must be good too?"
Dobby looked deep in thought and then suddenly started banging his head on the bedside table.
"Dobby is bad elf! Dobby must be punished!"
Harry wasn't sure what was going on. He tried to talk Dobby out of self-harm not so much for the sake of the elf but because it gave Harry a headache. This house-elf seemed to be in some sort of crises over his evil Masters who supported an evil man. And from what Harry gathered, also held a hero-worship complex over Harry.
After another bout of head smashing stopped, Harry sighed.
"Dobby, the fact that I'm here willingly and consider Malfoys my friends won't change. You either accept that we are all good, or that we're all bad, including me."
It sounded silly. Thinking with good or bad categories wasn't something Harry entertained anymore.
Dobby's eyes became impossibly bigger. "No! Harry Potter is good! He's a hero!"
"Yes, Dobby, I am." Harry admitted because it was easier than trying to explain any nuances to this creature. "That means Malfoys are all good people too."
"But…" Dobby was about to smack his head once again, but Harry stopped him.
"Don't you believe what your hero says, Dobby?"
"If Harry Potter says so… sir!" Finally, something switched in Dobby's brain and he was able to resolve his inner dilemma. "Harry Potter is good, and Malfoys are all good too." The last part was said in a less chipper voice but at least there was progress.
"Yes, Dobby, you got it."
"Dobby will be happy to serve Malfoys because they turned out to be as good as Harry Potter, sir!"
Harry nodded, just as he smoothed out his dress robes. Throughout this impromptu therapy session for a distressed house-elf Harry managed to change his clothes and now watched himself in the mirror critically. "You look amazing, sweetheart!" The mirror complimented and Harry held his chin high, turning his head to the side to admire tiny gemstones at the sides of his glasses that sparked red at certain angles.
Soon another house-elf popped in.
"Mindy is here to call Harry Potter for dinner, sir." Her eyes were just as big but to Harry's relief with no sign of mental crisis. Mindy then looked pointedly at Dobby before returning her attention to Harry. "Dobby is to accompany Harry Potter to the dining room, sir." She bowed and popped out.
"Dobby is good elf! Dobby is to accompany Harry Potter, sir, to dinner with good Masters!"
Dobby wasn't as good of an elf just half an hour ago. Harry was glad that whatever he accomplished wasn't lost on Dobby yet. He shouldn't have had to deal with any of that in the first place. Disloyal house-elves were unheard of, and Dobby probably deserved punishment. He wasn't sure if he made a favour for Malfoys with this or if he should have reported the odd elf, but making it a bigger deal than it warranted was probably unnecessary.
"Oh, Harry, look at you! To think that you lived with muggles until now!" Narcissa looked pleasantly surprised, meeting Harry on the way to the dining hall. She sent him an approving look over his appearance and Harry smiled pleased with himself.
"Thank you, Mrs Malfoy. But just because they are muggles doesn't mean they can't have a sense of style."
"True," she titled her head. "I do recall a week in muggle Paris I spent on a whim with a friend of mine. They can have some unique examples of fashion, though too far from my liking still."
"Oh? I do find their view on clothes either extravagant or mundane. And they'd still call wizards old-fashioned, I'm afraid." He paused, realising he was being rude, forgetting to compliment the lady. "Not that I'd agree with them. You look absolutely beautiful, Mrs Malfoy."
"My, Harry, aren't you a charm." She pulled him gently by the arm, leading to the dining table, where others were already seated with Lucius Malfoy at the head of the table, Draco on the left side of him and Snape beside Draco. While Snape was in his usual black robes, Draco made an effort to change from his school uniform too, presenting an image of a proper pureblood heir.
The table wasn't large, with only a handful of seats enough for a family gathering, likely enchanted to adjust for a number of guests. Narcissa motioned for Harry to take a seat on the right side of Lucius, who abruptly but gracefully stood up and walked across to the other side of the table to pull a chair out for Narcissa to sit. Harry was familiar with the etiquette, but it still made him look in wonder, not expecting the gesture from a proud-looking Malfoy.
Dinner was served and Harry was glad that not only was he dressed properly but also had all the rules for utensils memorised. It wasn't something he had the need for in Hogwarts, meals there were far from formal. Here he didn't miss the occasional looks sent his way, assessing his competence. Even Snape shot him some measuring glances but understandably wasn't surprised. Ultimately, as dinner progressed, Harry found himself at ease, not at all feeling out of place, despite all the intimidating interior of Malfoy Manor and whatever image the family held in society.
The conversation over the table mostly involved Draco and his school activities at first, with some comments from Severus Snape, praising Draco's abilities at Potions. Similar questions were asked of Harry, and he supplied that his favourite subject was Potions too, which wasn't even a lie. The way Snape momentarily tensed was too satisfying to watch and he had to hide his smirk over a glass of pumpkin juice, pleased that Snape managed to utter some compliments for his Potion brewing as well.
The topic then switched to Quidditch with Draco all too eager to share all about the recent match and how he was expecting to be on the team next year. Lucius Malfoy assured that he'll supply the whole team with new broomsticks if Draco managed to be accepted. They engaged in further Quidditch talk which Harry tuned out in favour of focusing on his food. The dishes were exquisite, not something he was used to in Hogwarts. Small but beautifully arranged portions made it easy to savour each bite.
"You will be attending the Yule Ball, Harry, will you?" He heard Narcissa Malfoy ask, and realised he had to open his eyes, because he involuntarily closed them admiring the perfectly balanced sweetness of the treacle tart. He saw Draco rolling his eyes as if he was already fed up with the topic despite it only starting. Lucius Malfoy coughed and sent his son a stern look.
"Yes, Mrs Malfoy. Thank you for the invitation."
"None of that, Harry! Call me Narcissa, dear." She smiled at him, encouragingly. "Do you perhaps need to pick a dressing robe for the occasion? I would gladly offer my help."
"Actually, I already have something in mind." Harry admitted.
"Ah, I see." She nodded, looking over him thoughtfully. "I should have guessed you wouldn't need help on that part."
"I would still be happy to hear your advice, Narcissa." Harry offered and as he said it, he knew it was the truth. He certainly wouldn't be opposed to it. Narcissa's smile reached her eyes at that, either for a chance to talk about the outfits in more detail, or at the way Harry didn't hesitate to use her name.
Harry caught a glimpse of Draco who watched them with slightly terrified eyes. Harry recalled the boy complaining before, about his mother always pestering him over his looks. He probably thought, now that Harry allowed it, she would never stop, which didn't bother Harry at all. Some of Draco's terror was reflected in Snape's eyes, but for completely different reasons. Harry ignored them both in favour of quality conversation with Narcissa. If Draco thought Harry would be eager to discuss Quidditch instead, well, he was sorely mistaken.
Harry relaxed in the chair, glad he could take his mind off any serious thoughts and engage in not so important but still absolutely interesting discussion with someone here.
"Tell me, Harry, what are your thoughts on the recent Monsieur Xavier's collection?"
Harry brightened, he was just about to ask the same.
Lucius watched Harry Potter with sharp interest. Severus hinted to be careful around the boy, also implying that he was an ally, which wasn't so hard to believe. So far the boy behaved just as Draco described, polite, with confidence and some hidden darkness that he couldn't explain. Sometimes the change in Harry's tone gave Lucius an uneasy feeling and at these moments he wasn't sure if his eyes flashed red, or it was just his mind playing tricks on him. According to Draco, Potter could speak Parseltongue, which was harder to believe but still not something to be taken lightly. There was also almost a tangible power emanating from the boy, who executed a presence that warranted immediate attention. The feeling was disturbingly familiar but all together not quite the same.
The way Potter got along with his beautiful wife was a surprise but a pleasant one. He could see Narcissa was delighted. It was also a surprise how well Harry Potter fit in with their family. Not even Severus who knew them for decades appeared as comfortable around them.
Today in particular Severus kept sending troubled looks over at Lucius, Narcissa and Potter, and Lucius wasn't so sure what exactly his friend was worried about. It's not like Lucius had planned to lure the boy into the middle of the Death Eaters meeting. That's probably what Dumbledore thought. Surely, Severus knew those meetings were far long gone. Although the mark was starting to become slightly visible again after so many years, there was no other indication to assume the Dark Lord would return soon, if ever. To assume Severus showed concern for their family instead, would be touching if not ridiculous. Unless the Boy Who Lived was actually possessed by the Dark Lord or something, which seemed rather farfetched. Though it wasn't like Severus to express an unwarranted caution either. Just in case, Lucius had to be careful.
Lucius was a politician first and foremost and he needed to improve his image on a political stage. What better way to do so than having the Boy Who Lived to express his support. He was already in Slytherin and friends with Draco, or so they both claimed, which was more than enough. Now a public gesture had to be done. That's why he needed Potter's presence at the Yule Ball. And that's what he wanted to discuss with Potter after dinner, when he asked the boy to join him in his study. He needed to make sure they were on the same page.
"So you want to use me to further your political agenda." Harry concluded after Lucius mentioned that there would be important Ministry officials as well as journalists present at the Yule Ball.
"I wouldn't exactly put it that way, Mr Potter." That was exactly what Lucius had in mind and Harry Potter saw right through him. Although, the boy didn't seem any bit upset about it.
"But that is still the main point."
Lucius didn't answer right away just watching Harry expectantly. "Will you still attend the ball, Harry?"
"I already promised Narcissa that I will." Potter's eyes narrowed. "But the extent of my explicit support might depend on what you are willing to do for me, Lucius."
Lucius' eyebrow shot up. Now they were talking. He didn't miss the use of his first name either, but Lucius will have to let it pass, he was the one to start it, he couldn't blame the boy for encouraging more familiarity.
"You see, Lucius." Potter lowered his voice in that uneasy intonation again and for a moment there was a hint of red around his eyes. Lucius had to blink to stop his imagination going astray. He was alert, preparing himself for whatever request he was about to hear. "My aunt is unwell."
"Your muggle aunt?" Lucius blinked, not expecting that.
"Yes." Harry nodded, and his demeanour changed once more, he was now just a child concerned for his relative. "I doubt she has long left to live. Soon I will be faced with a predicament where I don't have a guardian anymore."
"You'll still have your magical guardian, won't you?"
"But that is exactly the problem. My magical guardian is Dumbledore."
"Is he?" Lucius was indeed surprised, Harry Potter's guardians weren't common knowledge, all anyone knew was that he was raised by muggles. It made sense, of course, that Dumbledore would want to hold the power over the boy. Although how he managed to achieve it without any relations to the boy was uncertain. He will have to look into it.
Harry nodded. "Apparently, my parents left a will."
That could explain the predicament, yes. Lucius was still determined to look into it. For one, to confirm the existence of the will in the first place, which shouldn't be difficult as he knew people who had full access to the Ministry archives. Lucius already went through different possibilities in his mind, but it was Potter who summed up his thought process out loud.
"As you may know, whoever is my guardian has an exclusive right to use the Potter vote in the Wizengamot."
"That I know." Lucius didn't even pretend to hide his calculating look. But, "If your magical guardian is Dumbledore it won't be an easy process to argue with his position."
"I'm sure you will find a way." Harry Potter had the audacity to smirk. They were on the same page, for sure. Driven by his political ambitions Lucius might have got more than he had bargained for. He could easily take a step helping Potter out of Dumbledore's influence, but in order to proceed any further, it won't be his decision to make.
"I will see what I can do, Harry. But before anything else, I suggest you discuss the matter with my wife."
The conversation with Lucius went as well as Harry anticipated. Severus Snape must have kept his word not disclosing the encounter with the Dark Lord to anyone, but it was obvious he at least tried to warn Lucius, who seemed to be always on alert around Harry. Harry didn't want to play the Dark Lord card with him but still relied on uncertainty, hence the purposely chosen glasses. With pretence Harry could've, of course, outright demanded from Lucius whatever he wanted, but he wished to confirm his own ability to build valuable relations without relying on Nagini or Voldemort. He couldn't always pretend to be someone else, besides, what happened with Severus was an accident, not a thoughtful choice. With Lucius, it was fun playing on uncertainty but all in all Harry was glad he could achieve his goal without any My Lords thrown his way.
It was understandable that he still needed to talk to Narcissa about the matter. After all, she was the one with any relation to Harry in this family. And if Malfoy wanted that vote, it was only achievable through her.
The next day Harry was invited for an afternoon tea with Narcissa in the sitting room. Mindy served them tea and biscuits, and Harry took the steaming cup in his hands, relishing the warmth.
"Lucius told me you are quite dissatisfied with your current guardianship." Narcissa started after taking a small sip of tea.
It was a very polite description of his situation, but essentially that was the case. Harry nodded. "I would like to change that."
Narcissa put the cup on the small porcelain plate looking at it for a moment, her eyelashes cast down. She appeared solemn and pensive. When she looked up, her face was very serious.
"Your grandmother Dorea Black was my great-aunt. Despite some harsh traditions, we Blacks care about the family."
Harry already knew who his grandmother was, so he kept silent waiting for Narcissa to continue. Her lips spread into an amused smile, although her tone was somewhat bitter. "It would take committing something abhorrent to family traditions to get yourself off from the family tree."
Harry raised an eyebrow, curious.
"Like consorting with muggles or running off discarding all the family traditions," her look became distant before she added humoresly. "Although, killing a dozen of muggles afterwards turned out to be a sure way right back."
"Something like that actually happened?"
"Yes, with your godfather, Sirius Black."
Before Harry could form a response conveying all his disbelief over having a godfather, Narcissa seemed to understand what was on his mind, "He's in Azkaban now. Has been for ten years now. I won't be a judge on his character, but despite being your father's friend and your godfather, imprisonment certainly made him in no capacity for taking guardianship over you."
"I see." Nothing could be done if the man was careless enough to get caught for a crime. Narcissa shifted in her seat bringing her full attention to Harry.
"As I said, Blacks don't abandon the family without reason. When your parents died I also applied for a guardianship over you."
"You did?" Now that was news to him.
"Of course, many families did. Everyone was eager to support the Boy Who Lived no matter how loose the family ties are. We were aware of little chances, Lucius had to deal with his own trial at the time and our family wasn't held in the best regard."
"You still made the offer." Harry was taken aback, never considering the possibility that someone from wizarding world might have wanted to foster him.
"Yes." Narcissa waved a hand like it wasn't a big deal. "To no surprise, it wasn't approved and we never knew who won the case. Your guardians were held as a tight secret, only that you settled with a muggle family was disclosed."
Harry hummed. Was it so necessary to keep it a secret? It's not like Dumbledore couldn't afford to protect himself.
Narcissa's next words were full of disappointment. "To think it was that Dumbledore! He had no grounds for a claim."
"Other than the will from my parents?"
"Which holds the same status as a blood relation. Not enough to outweigh on its own if there were better options."
"You think there were?"
Narcissa shrugged, "It could be my sister, Andromeda Tonks. She married a muggleborn."
"Never heard that name." Harry shook his head. "Never heard of Dumbledore either until I received my Hogwarts letter. He just placed me with my muggle relatives from my mother's side and that was it."
Narcissa looked appalled and so Harry just had to add to the fuel, "As a matter of fact, he still never admitted it to me personally, I learned it from Gringotts."
"That level of irresponsibility is unheard of. But somehow, coming from Dumbledore it's not that surprising." She then visibly calmed down. "At least, to know that you were with relatives is a comfort." Something must have shown on Harry's face as Narcissa paused. "Or maybe not." It wasn't long before she realised. "They weren't the kind of muggles suitable to raise a magical child?"
"No." Harry suddenly felt a lump in his throat. "They weren't."
He looked straight at Narcissa and her expression was suddenly like a stone, no pity in her eyes, but something severe flashed there and Harry knew that she understood. Maybe not the extent of the abuse he had to endure, but the fact he sought a change in guardianship was already a telling sign. Whatever was reflected on Harry's face must have been enough to assume the worst.
Narcissa inhaled sharply, her delicate figure suddenly full of fierce resolution. "You will never have to see them again, Harry, you have my word."
Harry looked at Narcissa, impressed. She couldn't know that, but it was indeed a fact. Only a couple of months left for Petunia's inevitable death.
Severus Snape didn't actually stay at Malfoy Manor after the first day, saying that given a chance he'd rather use the time for his personal projects and what Dumbledore didn't know won't hurt him. He promised to return for the Yule Ball and maybe some other time to check that Potter wasn't dead and that was it.
Harry spent the days leisurely, exploring the impressive library, chatting with Narcissa, and occasionally with Draco, who showed off his entire collection of broomsticks and even coaxed Harry into trying one of them. Once Harry got a hang of it, the experience was far better than with the school brooms but still not something that got Harry overly excited. He still had to use Parselmagic to get the broomsticks flying and after a couple of leaps it quickly became exhausting.
"You are no fun, Potter!" Draco huffed at Harry's lack of enthusiasm, but still was content to fly around by himself demonstrating various tricks. Harry only had to put an impressed expression on his face, looking up from a book just in time for Malfoy to notice.
They were quite friendly with each other but still not truly friends. Harry doubted he would ever genuinely consider anyone to be his friend but if he had to choose his company he much preferred his afternoon teas with Narcissa Malfoy than anyone else. Sometimes Lucius joined them, when he didn't have any business in the Ministry.
After their initial agreement to look into eligibility of Harry's guardianship predicament and decision to fight the case to take over, they seamlessly showed such an acceptance that by the time Christmas rolled around, Harry easily felt at home. It wasn't something fake and forced, like what his muggle neighbours tried to accomplish for the sake of normalcy. He could tell Malfoys dropped their pristine masks more often around him, Draco too acted more relaxed than in Hogwarts and sometimes Harry even became a witness to Lucius placing a kiss on Narcissa's cheek. Something so warm and intimate coming from Malfoys who were seen as cold and proper in public, Harry wasn't sure he was allowed to see. But then it hit him that he actually was, and this realisation was what made him truly comfortable around them. While at first he only operated with his intuition, blood ties and their influence, he was now content with his decision to approach Malfoys, assured he made the right call.
He knew that Lucius had his own game, and it was only fair. Narcissa seemed to genuinely care, which in turn made Lucius even more invested. He already found that there were neither Potters' will nor any traces of it in the archives, which was a serious breach in protocol and enough basis for opening a case. If before Narcissa carefully suggested that Harry was welcome to stay with them over the summer no matter who his official guardians are, after hearing that, she was determined to see the matter through to the end.
"Dumbledore is going to trip over himself", she said and Lucius nodded, his eyes glistening in anticipation. Harry realised then and there that it was incredibly freeing to be surrounded by like-minded people.
He helped Narcissa with decorations, giving Dobby pointers on what sparkly stars to use and what candles should go where. The little elf was eager to be of help to the great Harry Potter and good master Narcissa, convinced now that there was no danger in store for his hero.
Harry never before decorated a house or a Christmas tree, let alone a Manor as big as Malfoys', but focusing on the little details was distracting and surprisingly pleasant. At some point even Draco, who never cared about it before, joined in, not wishing to be left out. He irritably gave out his valuable opinion on the silk ribbons and mistletoe arrangements, colours of the stars and ornaments on the tree, which not always correlated with Narcissa's or Harry's. Some arguments broke as if the whole ordeal was the most important thing in the world and when finally they settled on what everyone could be happy with Harry was left with a peculiar sense of accomplishment.
Harry didn't know he was looking forward to Christmas presents until he saw a colourful pile beside his bed. Among the assortment of sweets and a small collection of books, the flute from Hagrid made Harry recall their conversation about Fluffy. But before Harry followed this thread of thought, he noticed a rather strange shining silvery cloth, slipping through his fingers like water, and then he couldn't see his fingers at all. Mesmerised, Harry spread the material to examine it fully and it turned out to be a cloak, so he put it on. In the mirror he could see only his head, everything below his neck disappearing. Interesting. It was an Invisibility Cloak. Harry sat down again on the floor fishing out a small note that lay beside the cloak. In a very familiar handwriting, it said: Your father let me borrow this in the past. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you.
The note was left unsigned, Dumbledore tried to be anonymous, but Harry knew this handwriting from the letters to the Dursleys well enough.
The very nature of the cloak suggested that using it well would mean for him to sneak out unnoticed wherever he pleased. Something he definitely wished he had on numerous occasions before, but also something that Dumbledore simply gave up to him practically encouraging to break the rules. If the cloak belonged to his father it was only right that Harry should have it, but Harry couldn't shake the feeling that the timing of it was purposely chosen.
The Yule ball was a grand affair, the Malfoys clearly strived to show off as much as possible. Just as elaborate decorations, extravagant refreshments and stellar music were selected to impress, so was the exclusive list of guests. Each of them considered it an honour to be invited as well as a chance to make connections. The main attraction was Harry Potter himself and he kept his smile in place only because he knew it would be like that and he agreed to it. Not that the attention itself bothered him. Harry was confident in his image, having Narcissa approve of his dressing robes with only small suggestions. Harry heeded her advice, replacing his classic white shirt with a deep emerald one. Even though only a small part of it was visible under the outer mostly silvery robe, it still brought more focus to the intricate emerald details of it. Harry's eyes shone brighter this way, Narcissa said, so he chose frameless glasses to bring even more focus to his eyes.
The sort of people invited to the ball didn't outright stare at him, but Harry still could feel numerous eyes on him. He already shook hands with Minister Fudge, exchanging brief pleasantries and posing for a photograph. Lucius ensured all the journalists present were paid well and thus to be trusted, so Harry wasn't particularly bothered by the publicity. On the contrary, he saw it as a chance to shape an impression of him to the public eye. To show a bit of himself that wasn't based on their silly assumptions.
Surprisingly, no one commented on his sorting to Slytherin, which, after careful consideration, shouldn't have surprised him much. Lucius Malfoy himself was a Slytherin and held a high position in the Ministry and Wizengamot, which hardly concerned anyone close to the Minister or Fudge himself. Many people around here went through Hogwarts years, and despite an ingrained bias, the issue seemed unimportant at this stage.
Here at the Malfoy Manor the Yule Ball wasn't a secret meeting of the Death Eaters like Dumbledore might have assumed. It was an opportunity for influential people of different backgrounds to make themselves known, affirm their status or connect with beneficial partners for future affairs as well as simply shake a hand with a hero. The Boy Who Lived was a revered symbol for many years, and to be able to associate with the real embodiment of that symbol was what made this Yule Ball special in particular. As hosts, it naturally brought the Malfoy Family to a new level of respectability.
Harry understood all these mechanics and it was just as important an opportunity for him to leave a favourable impression in the wake of his plans to win a case against Dumbledore. Still, seeing his classmates among the guests made all the affair more bearable. They brought a reasonable distraction from a chain of pompous politicians, not taking Harry's time for long, but enough that at some point Harry was left on his own. Maybe seeing him among other children reminded all these people that he was still a child himself, so they politely allowed him to enjoy the ball with his age group. Regardless, they must have been satisfied with whatever peace of Harry Potter they already got.
So while not minding the popularity Harry still breathed a sigh of relief when he was able to stand aside from other guests by himself with no one approaching him for the whole five minutes. He slowly drank Elderflower Sparkling water watching as couples danced, elegant and graceful on the marble floor of Malfoy Manor.
"You know, it's in a good manner to have at least one dance at the ball." Harry turned to the voice. Blaise Zabini just joined him, also taking a breather without actually being out of breath. With how much the boy danced tonight, it was a wonder.
Harry wasn't opposed to the dancing and he wasn't unconfident in his skills. Narcissa taught him basic moves that should be enough to avoid embarrassment, but he wasn't eager to do it yet. So he just shrugged, "Maybe later."
"If you don't know who to ask, you can always dance with me."
Harry shot him a searching look, which Zabini answered with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. He wasn't sure if Blaise was joking, although he saw him circling Theodore Nott in a waltz earlier. Still, "I only learned the leading part." Harry supplied.
Zabini smirked, "I can do both." Harry stayed silent. Indeed, that was to be expected. The dancing pairs weren't restricted in their roles and the purebloods were generally required to master both.
Just earlier Narcissa was the one who led Lucius in the opening dance for the evening, which cracked Lucius' facade for a moment, a light blush colouring his cheeks. Being acquainted with Malfoys for a week now Harry was sure the man was absolutely ecstatic throughout the whole ordeal, despite his usual stony public mask immediately returning to his face.
Before Harry could gather his thoughts, Blaise waved a hand at him, "I'm only joking. Anyway, wouldn't want to steal you from someone else."
"Who?" Harry frowned, confused.
Blaise pointed with his glass at a group of girls. There he recognised Daphne Greengrass with her little sister Astoria and Pansy Parkinson. As Harry looked at them, he caught eyes with Parkinson who hurriedly looked away.
"Pansy?" Harry asked and Blaise nodded, smirking knowingly. Harry was still confused. "I'm pretty sure she already got her dance with Draco today."
"Yes, but she obviously wants to have a dance with you." Harry looked at Pansy again considering the notion, was he missing something? Well, if it's Parkinson he didn't mind. Either way, he had to dance if he didn't want to be disrespectful to the hosts and Narcissa even taught him, so might as well get this out of the way.
Pansy was enthusiastic to dance with him, just as Zabini observed but so far she didn't make any attempt in conversation, only blushing when the moves brought them too close. As he guided her into another turn, Harry broke the silence, "So, any Yuletide rituals?"
"No, just traditions." she answered following Harry's steps with ease.
"Like what?" Harry wondered. The official get together for higher-ups, not all of whom were even purebloods, was hardly all there was to it.
She hesitated, "I probably shouldn't tell you." Harry just stared at her unimpressed. He thought they were past mistrusting him by now. She sighed and scrunched up her nose a little. "Well, some folks indulge in muggle hunting."
Harry stumbled a bit in his step but quickly composed himself, smoothly carrying on to swirl her around. He wasn't exactly shocked or appalled but Pansy still affirmed. "It is exactly what you think. And no, it's only for adults. Even then, not everyone likes to participate."
If that was indeed what Harry thought, he definitely couldn't picture most of the adults here participating in something so inherently savage. Judging by Pansy's reaction she wasn't a fan of the affair herself and as pristine as Malfoys were, Harry doubted they would entertain it as well. Although, Harry wouldn't be surprised if that was something Voldemort indulged in. He knew that the fear of him wasn't unfounded, Nagini never tried to hide the harsh truth about the Dark Lord's cruelty, and the disgust for muggles would understandably only fuel the eagerness in keeping such a tradition alive. How would Parkinson know of such a thing anyway?
Instead of asking her, Harry found his eyes lingering on Lucius Malfoy before settling on Narcissa, her delicate dress in pale blue hues giving her almost an angelic look. Further away, the contrasting figure of Severus Snape stood tall and dark, watching everyone like a hawk. Surely, making it into the inner circle of the Death Eaters wasn't all sunshine and rainbows.
The aftermath of the Yule Ball featured Harry Potter on the front page of the Daily Prophet, shaking hands with Minister Fudge. There were other photographs taken throughout the evening, focusing not only on Harry, but the overall tone of the paper was jolly and flattering.
The rest of the winter break quickly went by. At nighttime, when everyone settled for bed, Harry explored Malfoy Manor under the Invisibility Cloak. Not having any clear purpose for sneaking around, he wanted just to test how the cloak fared against the sleeping portraits and wandering house-elves.
As Harry carefully stepped through the candlelit corridors nothing suggested he'd been noticed, so he took his time observing numerous faces of Malfoy ancestors like he was in a museum. Such behaviour could be considered disrespectful in the broad daylight, but now he could watch all he wanted, taking note of various details and artistic styles chosen for different paintings. It was a mystery to him how exactly they were made not only to move like photographs, but also speak and sleep, and ultimately behave like real people.
Mindy and Dobby passed him by like he wasn't there, and so Harry concluded that despite the suspicious nature of a gift from Dumbledore it was undoubtedly very convenient.
On one of such nights, just as he was rounding the corner that led to his room, he heard a muffled noise of someone talking. Curious and emboldened by being invisible Harry drew closer in the direction of voices.
The door to Lucius' study was partially open and Harry peeked inside. There he saw Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape sitting beside each other near the fireplace and sharing a bottle of Firewhisky. The armchairs were placed in such a way that Harry could clearly see their faces. They would have noticed Harry too, if he wasn't invisible, he stood unmoving and quiet, listening in.
"…would have a chance?" Talking privately with Lucius, Severus sounded neither bitter, nor snide. His voice was steady but with a veiled undertone of wariness.
Lucius sighed. "Better chance than the last time, for sure. The only cause for Dumbledore to have a grip on him at all is the will, and none of my resources were able to find it. It doesn't exist. At least, not anymore."
That was the same bit of information Lucius already shared with him earlier. The very first link Lucius tried to follow in order to build the case came out empty, but no result in itself was already enough basis to raise suspicion. The fact that Lucius trusted Snape was something to ponder over. It didn't matter all that mush as long as he kept his mouth shut in front of Dumbledore. Harry watched as Snape's grip on the glass tightened.
He wondered what else those two discussed and if Snape still kept the revelation about the Dark Lord to himself. That was something Harry expected from him, but he wouldn't trust a spy entirely. From his interactions with Malfoy Harry grasped that the man wasn't completely sure how to conduct himself around him, he was aware that Harry wasn't opposed to Voldemort, they cleared that out before any further arrangements were made. Sometimes Harry caught sideways thoughtful glances from Lucius and the man addressed him with full respect as if talking to an adult, but he hadn't outright fallen down to his knees, so it was reassuring.
"I still doubt the whole idea." The words were said after a long pause, Snape's expression tense and assessing.
Lucius gave him a look, taking a long swing of his drink. "It is beneficial. I know, you might not share the sentiment, but that's what Narcissa wanted to do years ago."
Snape scoffed. "My sentiment hardly matters. I'm surprised you are going along with it so easily."
"Hardly." Lucius shook the glass lightly watching as the liquid bounced off the sides. "I'm terrified." he confessed.
Severus lifted an eyebrow watching Lucius closely, as if trying to determine something for himself. Malfoy put the glass down on the table and leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes. "There is no telling what the Dark Lord will do about it, but it is beneficial. I'm willing to take the bet it would be beneficial all around."
Something dark flashed on Snape's face, but he remained impassive. "The Dark Lord?" he simply asked.
Lucius rubbed his left forearm in response, his eyes on Snape, searching. "You must have noticed it too."
Snape nodded. "Of course."
There was a tightness in the air as if Severus was trying to pick his next words but coming short. Lucius looked back at him expectantly but in the end they remained silent as Snape finished his drink in one gulp and looked at the empty glass deep in thought.
So it looked like he was indeed capable of keeping important information to himself. He must have figured it out that Lucius was under the impression that Harry Potter was his own person, which was the correct one, but not from Snape's perspective. He was sharp enough to know that the Dark Lord had his own reasons for disclosing his identity to one servant over another, and how he used his Death Eaters could vary depending on his objective. Snape wasn't a fool to ruin any of the plans the Dark Lord might have, so he faithfully remained silent.
"Speaking of the boy," Lucius dropped the subject of the Dark Lord as if it was never mentioned at all. "You seem to be awfully civil around him. Wouldn't have expected that considering… your sentiments."
Severus poured himself another glass. "I got over it." He said curtly not looking at Lucius.
Malfoy's eyes narrowed, but his next words were surprisingly sympathetic. "You still remember her, do you?"
Snape's eyes snapped at Lucius, momentarily betraying deep vulnerability in them. "Always," he rasped and Malfoy's eyes widened slightly, but he nodded in understanding. Some bitterness reflected in his expression as he said, "I can't imagine what I would do without my Cissy," which earned him another dark look from Severus.
"At least you have her," and quietly, almost inaudible, "Lily was never mine."
Harry's breath caught, never expecting to hear his mother's name from Severus Snape, who now looked genuinely sad. The two men went silent after that, and Harry, stunned, tiptoed back to his room. He wasn't sure what to think about this bit of information. But at least, he now could comprehend Snape's hatred for him. If Severus Snape wanted Lily Evans for himself, but James Potter was chosen instead, it was only natural to remain bitter, jealous, and severely displeased by the mere existence of Harry Potter. Not that it was enough of a reason to suddenly feel any sympathy for the man.
That night Harry was engulfed by the green lights within the ever persistent dream again. There he cries for his mother, desolate and yearning. No one answers. He is alone.