So I'm back. Its been a rather long time. Well I lost my job, moved to California, been busy looking for a job, I got my permit and I'm learning how to drive, I've been doing some wood carving, my computer broke and I had to fix it. DC jack if you know what that is. Have you ever seen the inside of your computer? Its rather scary in there. Now its broken again. The lcd screen this time and cause I don't have a job I don't have the money to buy a new one so I'm using half a computer screen now. Oh and I'm in the Mountains now and barely have Internet. Yeah I have a million excuses but it all comes down to writer's block. Hopefully this chapter will live up the rest of the story.
OK lots of flashback/story stuff here. Sorta odd as I hate reading those but they work. Quite a bit of stuff taken from book 6, even some word for word stuff.
I'd love your opinion on Dumbledore's character. I'm still not sure if I've captured him correctly or not. Lucius also here quite a bit. I really liked writing him but again I'm not sure if he was suitably Slytherin here.
The only warning is an implied rape. Not Harry or anyone still alive so don't worry. Oh and Lucius talks about torture a bit. I really couldn't stop him. Slytherin's ya know.
October 26th
Late Afternoon
It felt like he was underwater. His entire body felt heavy and his mind had to convince his body more than once to make even the slightest movement. His thoughts swam and scattered whenever he tried to focus. He could feel himself trying to escape back into the peace of sleep and failing. It was the pain that kept him awake.
He hurt.
Gasping, Harry fought to open his eyes and finally the barest slits allowed him to see the darkness broken by only a crack of light underneath the door.
He was in the cupboard under the stairs. The Dursleys then. He was back.
He was slumped in a pile on the floor, his limbs numb and without feeling from being forced too close to his body for too long a time. Breathing carefully he searched inside for that cup of liquid light. Finding it boiling in aggravation he breathed carefully and let it slowly seep into him, guiding it along and showing it his aching muscles, then breathing in relief when it attacked the pain and chased it away without further prompting.
Once the pain was gone he let it stay where it was, too tired to usher it back into that cup. He was back. Memories flickered in his mind, as they always did, so fresh it was astonishing they were made of dreams at all, everything was so clear. Sighing he forced them away and sneered at himself. Now was not the time to dwell on dreams.
Murmurs from the other room made him jerk awake before he had realized he was starting to drift off. He could hear Vernon's harsh guttural voice and Petunia's shrill one. They were speaking in hushed whispers that sounded quite distressed despite the fact that Harry could make out nothing substantial. Every so often Vernon would get louder and Petunia would hiss at him until he dropped his volume.
Dudley must be home then. What day was it? What time? His fingers touched soft fabric and he was reminded of the clothes he wore. He had no shirt but the pants were soft and new feeling and not dirty at all. It must not have been very long then. Perhaps it was still the day after.
Gasping with pain he felt around the cupboard floor for his glasses. They were unbroken, as Petunia had removed them before his punishment just like she always did. Finally his fingers brushed against the metal frame and he slowly placed it on his face. It shocked him at how much pain he was in after that small chore. He hadn't thought it had been that bad.
Moaning he forced his mind back to the day before. London. The blond boy. The Punishment. The tall mage. Oh. Now that he remembered perhaps it had been that bad. The Punishment had been unlike anything he had experienced before. Harry was used to pain but Dursleys had hurt him so badly and the curse the mage had used had nearly shocked him. That someone could feel so much pain.
Don't for get the hatred. Hissed the whisper. The stank of their hatred of you and the hatred of the mage for them was thick enough to choke someone. Harry swallowed back terror. The whisper was right. How could do anything to redeem himself in the face of such emotion?
Fear and panic suddenly seemed to overwhelm him. He suddenly wanted to curl up into a ball, tight and small and scared, like a snake. Breathing out slowly he let himself acknowledge that fear; the Dursleys were obviously engaged in their conversation and if they were to stop he would hear. . He didn't cry though; he couldn't afford that loss of control. There was no Hylaarr to give silent permission no Osset're to hold him and encourage the tears. They were gone. They were just dreams.
But what had happened the day before was not, as much as he might wish it. The Dursleys now knew about magic. Harry breathed slowly to stem the fretful panic that thought invoked. The Dursleys had always known about magic and about him having it. The punishments testified to that and he really ought to have known.
Yesterday he had used magic in front of the Dursleys. The fact that it had been in Vernon's defense was no excuse. They would punish him for that gross disobedience and it would be a very terrible punishment indeed.
But he did deserve it. The whisper snarled at him. The Dursleys had taken him on, unwilling, unhappily but they had. They had taken time out to punish him again and again, trying to teach him the normal way, and he had rejected their teachings simply because his had thought he knew better. He should have known better. Punishment was necessary.
It was unnatural, the magic. That much power in one little boy. He had always wondered why it was so easy to wield, why he never had to make much of an effort to try out something new. It was because that magic belonged to someone else. Perhaps more than one person. How he had gotten it he didn't know but he knew now. It was wrong. Even Osset're and Hylaarr had bound it away. Even they feared it.
Harry felt tears well up but he pushed them away. He wouldn't think about them. It was necessary, being back here. He belonged here, with the Dursleys. They knew what he needed. They had known all along. How arrogant he must have been to think that he, a child of seven, knew better then they. He needed the punishments. He knew he needed them. The magic was always right and it told him he need the punishments. Perhaps if he were punished enough the magic would leave, and find the person it belonged in.
But then you'll never see Hylaarr and Osset're again, said The Whisper, always perverse. That would hurt them. Harry stiffened then gasped at the pain that brought.
Yes. That was true. But, it wasn't as if they were real after all.
Abruptly there was silence. Petunia and Vernon had stopped arguing. Harry held his breath. The soft click of Petunia's low heels could sounded on the hard wood floor and Harry let out the breath he held. Long familiarity with what the world sounded like from within the cupboard he could tell she was headed for him. It was time.
The cupboard door opened and the golden sunlight raced into the cupboard to fall onto his face. He squinted and could only see the dark silhouette of Petunia Dursley framed in the the light. Her voice, however, was easily recognizable.
"Get up, boy." Her tone was strained as if she was trying to keep it under control. Harry couldn't bring himself to answer verbally. Painfully he pushed himself into crouch; then gripping the door frame of the cupboard he pulled himself up into a standing position. Swaying he was finally able to stand but Petunia just stood there, still in the middle of the door frame.
Abruptly she grabbed his chin between her bony thumb and forefinger. " You listen to me, boy." She whispered harshly. "We are going to have a talk: you and Vernon and I. And if anything happens, anything at all, I will fill the tub with gasoline, light it on fire, and throw you in."
With a jerk she pulled away and retreated into the hall where the sunlight illuminated her tired pinched face. Harry simply gaped at her a moment before snapping his mouth shut and taking a deep breath. Letting it out he took a step out the cupboard and nearly fell over. He was forced to stop.
She's angry. The whisper was a small breath in his ear.
"Now, Boy." Harry knew that tone. It was the one she had only used once, just before she had hit him with the still hot tea kettle for Dudley's food being too hot.
By the time he had made it to the sitting room, he was pale and sweating. But as bad he felt Vernon looked worse. He was sprawled in his chair an afghan tucked up around him as he shivered periodically. He was ashen in color, and sweat beaded on brow and his mustache was dripping with it. Harry swallowed but the guilt he felt at Vernon's condition made it hard. It might also be the fact that he's afraid of you. The whisper sounded gleeful at that fact.
"Sit, boy." Petunia spat at him as she swept around him to stand next to Vernon's chair. Her eyes narrowed as he didn't move. "Before you fall over, Boy!"
Harry swallowed again and carefully perched on the settee behind him. He couldn't help trembling, but couldn't pinpoint weather it was because of the punishment he received last time he sat there or because of the conversation to come. Carefully he kept his eyes submissively down fixed on a knot in the maple wood floor.
"Look at your uncle, Boy." Petunia's voice was hardly recognizable. Harry timidly looked up. "Look at what you have caused." She hissed the last word so much that spittle flew out to land on the arm of Vernon's chair. "He's half dead, thanks to you. Are you happy now boy? Think your finally justified in indulging in your freakish ways." Her shoulders trembled with a shudder as she uttered the word. "FREAK. Thats what you are. Not only to normal people, but to others as well."
Her eyes were filled with hate. If he were a vampire he'd be choking on it. . He opened his mouth but closed it without a word. Even if he could have forced one passed the guilt clogging his throat he wouldn't have known what to say. Sorry? What good would that do. He had said it before, even meant it before, and had never been believed.
"Your parents." She stopped as if she were having a hard time pushing words out of her throat as well. "Your parents were freaks. Abnormal, bizarre, and completely unredeemable, but even they would have been preferable to you." Her eyes bore into him, and for the first time Harry realized they were green. Very pale but green. "You are a MONSTER! An evil thing with unnatural tendencies and if we had a choice you would have been dead long ago!" Petunia was nearly hyperventilating and her hissing words had climbed into screams.
Harry swallowed again. He could barely breath past the panic that filled his throat. Not your panic. The whisper breathed in his ear. It's she whose panicking. He stared at her unseeingly as Vernon laid a hand on her arm to calm her.
"Hush, Pet." He wheezed, and gripped her arm tightly. "You boy, will listen and listen well." He spoke softly but that just sent chills down Harry's spine. "You will never use m-magic again." Even tripping over the word he sounded so strange from the Vernon Harry knew. "If you do I will see to it the only reason you will ever leave that cupboard will be to be thrashed within an inch of your life. You may think you know pain boy but I will find ways to hurt you that you have never even dreamed of."
"Your parents are dead boy."Petunia sniffed. "Because of you. You have nothing." She hissed this with a sort of glee. "You are nothing."
Harry just looked at her. She's lying said the whisper. She thinks your something. Something bad. Harry forced himself not to react to that.
She seemed to grow even more enraged at the lack of reaction. "Do you know, my sister was once normal?" Harry blinked to bring her back into focus but she had looked away from him to stare at the unlit fireplace.
"She and I would ride our bicycles down to the ice cream shoppe. She always ordered vanilla. We would talk for hours. About our future, and finding husbands, and having children. One day when I was 7 and she was 10 our father dropped me off at the ice cream shoppe and took her with him to the barber, Tom, and old friend of his. He had said they would be right back" Petunia's eyes had darkened. Feel it? The whisper urged him. Something bad happen. She's nearly sick with horror.
"It was dark before my mother came and picked me up. She had tears running down her face. She told me Lily was in the hospital. That Daddy had hurt her very badly and now he was dead. The barber had killed him." She laughed humorlessly.
" We visited my sister there and after a month passed we took her home. But the damage had been too extensive. The doctor said she would never be able to have children. She recovered and she found that that school and went there and when she came back she wasn't my sister anymore. She was a a- freak.
After she graduated and told me she was to marry Potter. I refused to see her again. But the years passed and not long after Dudley's birth she showed up on my door step, green eyes bright with happiness. 'I'm pregnant,' she said. 'A miracle, Tunie! Magic.' She whispered the word. I remember staring at her belly and feeling sick. It was wrong. There was no miracle just witchcraft. Devil's work." Petunia abruptly turned to look Harry straight in the eyes again.
"That, Boy, is what you are. A Devil's child. A monster. A Demon." Her eyes gleamed with hate. "My sister had become a witch, or perhaps she had been one all along and I never knew, and then she had slept with a devil. And then she had you." Petunia shuddered as if that had been the worse part of her story. "Do you know she told me of that prophesy? Said you were meant to kill an evil wizard. I laughed at her. It seemed so fantastical. 'So all that makes you is the mother of a murder.' I said. She left not long after that. If only she had listened to me. Perhaps she would still be alive now."
Petunia's fingers were digging into the arm of the chair like claws and this time Harry could feel her hate in his throat. "Perhaps you wouldn't have been born and killed her."
Harry could barely breathe. The shock of the story had robbed him of his breath. He wanted to ignore what she said. He didn't want to believe her. But he did. She knew best after all. She always had.. He should had never have been born. It made sense now. The magic his mum had used to heal herself had made him. And somehow stolen magic away from someone in order to make him a murder. He knew his mum hadn't meant it to happen that way but it did. And now she was dead.
He trembled. Magic. Magic had stolen his mum from her sister. Had made him. Had helped him kill his parents whose only crime had been they loved him too much. Had sentenced him to a lifetime of punishment as it was too stubborn to find someone else to inhabit. Magic had shown him love in Hylaarr and Osset're. Love where he deserved none. Magic. It was almost like a curse now.
Looking into the eyes of his aunt he could feel her hatred. It stuck in his throat stabbing sharply. There was also a watery feeling that threatened to drown him. Fear. The whisper sounded pleased. She fears you. They both do. He didn't even try to soften that pain. They feared him. They feared what he would become. They feared his unnatural, stolen, evil magic. He would accept any punishment they chose to give. It would only be the beginning of what he deserved.
Harry opened his mouth and this time managed to get something out. Staring into her pale green eyes he made a vow.
" I will never used magic again, Aunt." The whisper echoed the vow in his head, mocking him a bit but Harry ignored it. He meant it. He wouldn't use it again.
Petunia's nostrils flared and her eyes widened and her mouth twitched. He heard an intake of breath which signaled Vernon was about to bellow.
The door bell rang.
The three in the sitting room froze.
October 26th
Morning
Lucius Malfoy apparated to Hogsmead sneering in distaste at the bustling of the town. The weather was disturbingly cheerful for late October and the sun had coaxed out wizards and witches to enjoy the day. As it was a few months into the school year, there were no students, but those out of school had taken advantage of nature's mercy and set out to holiday shopping as Halloween was in five days.
Lucius sneered at the pathetic decorations strung about the town. He did not approve of Halloween. Over the years, a once hallowed and ancient tradition had been skewed into a child's excuse to indulge in sweets to excess and bring in galleons into the pockets of those of the working class. What had once been an ancient and hallowed tradition had turned into a mockery. Lucius half expected the dead to one day retaliate. That would bring the true meaning of frightening to Halloween.
Tightening his grip on the snake head of his walking stick he turned to the castle that stood guard over the little town. Suppressing another sneer he made his way towards the school. The castle stood proud and timeless, a testament to the power of wizards past. Once the wizarding world had been worthy of it's inhabitants. Wizards had been powerful and spells had been miraculous even among those who could cast them. Blood had been pure and the evidence of that was clearly visible today, despite the absence of records of those spells. It had been time, and the introduction of muggle blood into the wizarding world, that had weakened it and brought it down to the limited power it was now.
When Lucius had graduated Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry he had craved power. To a Malfoy power was everything. Money was a means to get power but money could be spent, stolen, or withheld at life's whim. Blood had once held power. The prestige of being pureblood had meant something long ago but as the years went by and mudbloods infiltrated the wizarding world like rats it began to mean less. Purebloods were no longer held in such high esteem. Power was everything and Lucius had entered the world, an adult wizard, and found he had less of it then he liked.
Dissatisfied with the fickle attentions the Ministry bestowed he had sought other means of achieving that power and found enticing promises spilling from the lips of one Tom Marvolo Riddle. The charisma and silver tongue of the man who called himself Lord Voldemort had drawn Lucius to his side like a moth to a flame and he had soon found himself counted as one of his allies, a Death Eater by name.
Soon though he found he had sold his soul to a demon. An ally was not a servant and it wasn't long before he found out that that was what he had become. Once the mark was permanently etched into his arm for all to see he had discovered what it meant to be a servant of a dark lord.
Orders were given and expected to be carried out to fulfill his master's high expectations. Rewards for success were few and failure was severely punished. The Unforgivables had never meant anything but power to Lucius before then but he soon found out that when the Dark Lord wields them they give that power to him and everyone else bows before that. Indeed he found himself bowing to his new lord and not long after that kneeling. It wasn't for years that he would acknowledge that servant meant slave to Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Despite his newfound misgivings he had thrown himself into the role he chose. Despite the lack of dignity, if he could endear himself to his master, make himself indispensable, it was obvious one day he would have the power he craved. Voldemort was a very powerful wizard. His knowledge was only limited by the extent of his magic and that was remarkably grand. Indeed only Dumbledore could be considered his equal and even then it was doubtful the old fool had as much magic as Voldemort. Albus Dumbledore merely leaned on his vast collection of spells he had gathered in the course of his life and Lucius had been sure that he would be disposed of easily.
He had been wrong.
Albus Dumbledore was a light wizard and, like all fanatics, leaned on his devotion to that allegiance with unnatural fervor. It was that obsessive loyalty that kept him alive and actively opposing Lord Voldemort despite heavy losses the light side began to take. Slowly Dumbledore began to sacrifice more and more and value his people less and less. What should have been an advantage for the dark side became a disadvantage as those who were sacrificed for the greater good ended up taking Death Eaters with them. The losses were few at first but over time added up and his lord was not pleased.
Despite such opposition to his chosen side Lucius could have nurtured his faith and brushed off any doubts with ease if it weren't for the growing madness that seemed to take over his lord. Power or the dark or perhaps an insidious creeping evil that couldn't be stopped gradually infected Tom Marvolo Riddle and as the years passed and the dark side gained ground it seemed the price was his lord's sanity. Or perhaps humanity.
To this day he could recall the moment when he first acknowledged that.
It started with a boy. A young thing about 21 years of age: black hair, green eyes. A muggle. He held himself proudly and spat at the Death Eaters who had him surrounded. If he had been born with magic and attended Hogwarts he would have been Gryffindor. Despite his fear, he challenged the Death Eaters. Laughing when it took three stunning charms to finally knock him down. And when the curses started he spat filth and still tried to escape.
His lord ordered them to do anything they wished but kill him. He continued to order the same thing every day for three months. It became a daily ritual and each afternoon he would watch as the muggle was tortured. Each day he grew more and more blood thirsty. He demanded more violent torture, darker curses, and he was never pleased. He became obsessed. Finally one day the Death Eaters were called abruptly. It was midmorning when he called and Lucius had been in a meeting with the Minister something he had been waiting months to achieve. Others had been similarly occupied, but he called them all. Some had been discovered as the result of that day.
When they arrived he was spitting in a mad rage. Everyone had been sure something had happed. Something devastating for the war they were beginning to wage against the wizarding world. But no. The muggle had finally given up his hold on life. He had died. And Voldemort blamed his allies, the Death Eaters. He had tortured them all. Each one. Some had died. The inner circle had attempted to reason with him and he had turned on them as well. Accusing them of plotting against him. Some might have been guilty of that but what Slytherin worth his scales wasn't plotting against someone?
By then Lucius had managed to make himself an important person his his lord's life. His lord valued him, if only for his money and name. But Lucius had saw how his fellow Death Eater's suffered and he had seen an opening. Slytherins were not brave, at least not when it was in the face of stupid unnecessary things such as morality. But when achieving their goals they were as fearless as Godric himself.
He had put himself in his lord's line of fire. He had endured torture in order to calm him first. Then humbly asked to speak privately with him. Riddle's green eyes had bore into him, attacking his mind and burrowing inside. Lucius had expected this and had braced himself. He had brought up the idea in him mind in desperation. But his lord had looked it over and dismissed it to sweep past and find Lucius's motive. He had felt the mind with in his. Obsessed chaos with fingers of fire that burned his mind wherever they touched. But finally they had exhausted Lucius's secrets and had finally pulled out.
Panting, unheeded tears wet on his cheek, Lucius had waited, sure death was imminent. But a mad laugh had startled him. Looking up he had watched as Riddle had laughed, and the sound had climbed in pitch eerily. Abruptly he stopped and walked away headed out he double doors that led to his private chambers. It was only when he had opened them did he turn around, an eyebrow raised, and looked at Lucius expectantly.
"You have your audience, Lucius." He had hissed. "Do you dare take it?"
Slytherins were not brave, they didn't take dares, and they could care less if their name was smeared in the mud as everyone did that anyway given a reason or not. But Lucius Malfoy had a horrid secret. Had he not been a Malfoy, and had he not begged, the hat would have put him in Gryffindor.
With incredible willpower he masked his pain and stood. He was a Malfoy first after all and Malfoys had their pride. Lifting his chin he had followed his lord.
In the private chambers of Tom Marvolo Riddle he had had knelt before his lord who seated himself upon an old style Victorian wingback chair as if it were a throne.
"Speak, my Lucius." His hissed order had also been a challenge.
Lucius had trouble speaking at first but refuse to let it show. " I am honored you would hear me, my lord." He had looked up through his lashes to watch his lords eyes. He could always tell his lord's mood through his eyes. "Particularly after seeming so amused by my suggestions."
Riddle had merely waited, staring intently. His eyes were like fire, they burned so hot with madness.
"It might be possible to bring him back my lord. It might take some research and much power but dark magic can do many things." Lucius wasn't fully convinced of the words he spoke but didn't let his tone show that. "However, it would be easier to simply torture him from this side of the veil. As a ghost he might suffer emotional anguish as your tortured his loved ones, or as a zombie his body could be desecrated. Perhaps-"
"Enough." Riddle had said it quietly but it seemed to echo in the room. Lucius could nearly feel death creeping up on him.
"The muggle was nothing." He hissed and turned his burning eyes away from Lucius to stare into the burning fire. "The muggle was less than that. He is dead. Why would I think anything of him after that?"
It had seemed he had forgotten that Lucius remained in the room with him but abruptly his lord's hot eyes had bore into him again. Angry. Expectant. Mad. Apparently he awaited an answer.
"I do not know, my lord. Death is more often then not final."
"Then what of vampires Lucius?" Riddle had once again looked away. " How do you explain them?"
Lucius couldn't help but sneer. "Animals, my lord. Creatures."
Riddle had smiled softly; the reflection of flames in his green eyes. "Indeed. Mere creatures," he whispered. "But how could they have such a gift as immortality when they are so . . . small."
"What is the definition of Immortality, Lucius?"
Lucius blinked. "I -I don't know, my lord. Living forever, perhaps?"
"Are you familiar with the myth of creation, Lucius? Of Adam and Eve?" Riddle's voice sounded saner. He merely sounded boredly curious. Lucius hadn't been able to help his shiver though.
"The muggle one? Yes, my lord." How the conversation had turned this way he hadn't been able to fathom.
Riddle was motionless. Only his mouth moved. "Did you know Adam had another wife? Lilith. She was created of mud and dust, when Adam was or perhaps before. She refused to lie beneath him during intercourse." His upper lip curled into a sneer. "She and Adam argued bitterly over it. He would not let it go and she would not give in. Finally he pushed too far. Accused her of disobeying the command to be fruitful and multiply. She threw up her hands to the heavens and told God to go to hell. Then transforming into a screech owl she flew away.
After that God made Eve from one of Adam's ribs. Eve was docile and submissive. And Lilith was filled with jealousy and disgust. She transformed herself into a serpent and went into the Garden. It wasn't long before her silver tongue seduced Eve and she ate of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. And then Adam did as well. They were cast out of the Garden and Lilith had her revenge. Because she had not eaten of the fruit she remained Immortal.
Immortal. Deathless. Living or Lasting forever." Abruptly his lord's eyes had found Lucius' and Riddle had risen and stood before him where he still kneeled. He could still recall keeping eye contact with his lord. He couldn't have looked away had he wanted to. And he had wanted to.
"I will tell you a secret, Lucius. My greatest secret." Then he had knelt as well and whispered in Lucius' ear. "I am immortal. I will never die." He hadn't pulled away after whispering that. His lord's breath had been hot in his ear. "You will though," Lucius's blood had ran cold but his lord had chuckled. "I hope not for a very long time, dear Lucius, for you will be very special to me." His lord's dry lips had brushed against his cheek. "Thats what you want isn't it, my Lucius? To be special to me? I must only ask you for one favor."
Lucius had swallowed and nearly shuddered. His dreams of Narcissa and marriage an children dissappearing. But he would be powerful. His lord would favor him. And he had wanted that more.
"Anything, my lord." He had breathed but hadn't moved. Neither had Riddle.
Riddle had chuckled, his hot breath burning Lucius's ear. "When you die," The whisper was so soft Lucius would never had heard it had his lord not been so close. "Tell my father thank you for me. I would never have craved Immortality were it not for him."
And then his lord was gone. Lucius had shuddered. When he looked up to find his lord he met those hot eyes once again.
Madness. Those green eyes held madness. Similar to the madness that had lingered in the muggle's equally green eyes the last time Lucius had cast Cruciatus on him.
It was that moment he had known that he had given up his life to darkness when he had chosen Riddle. Riddle was powerful. Riddle was mad. And Riddle would never die. Nothing had shaken that faith as the years passed and Lucius had not dared to hope.
When the Potter boy had defeated his lord he had been shocked. More than shocked he had been suspicious. His lord had claimed to be immortal and Lucius had never doubted him. Indeed he had waited for him to come back with unwavering faith. His lord would return and he would come for him loyal or not. Better to remain loyal and take his place once again as his lord's right hand. Despite being mad, his lord was powerful and would win the war. It was only a matter of time. Dumbledore was his only opposition and he would die soon enough. His lord never would. He had been convinced that despite the prophecy and his lord's absence. Nothing had made him doubt.
Until the day before. Meeting Potter had shaken his faith down to the foundations and worse than that it had given him hope. The boy was so powerful. His magic had filled the room and it had only been Lucius' exposure to his lord and Dumbledore that had prevented him from getting drunk on it. To have that kind of power. Even to be on the same side as it.
Lucius wasn't stupid. There were whispers. Slytherin's Blood there were more than whispers. His lord was returning. Not yet, not even soon, but he would return. And then the war would begin again. But this time there would be Harry Potter.
The events of yesterday left two paths in front of Lucius perfectly clear. He could continue as he had for years. He could follow his lord, despite his current absence. He could leave the boy if the boy lived through the muggles perhaps he could be picked off early before he learned that he would be able to fight back soon enough. He had gained a wealth of information about him. An abused little lion, though equipped with sharp teeth and claws, could easily fall prey to a snake hidden in the grass.
And part of him, the Slytherin part, wanted to. Simple self preservation rearing its head as well as the desire to protect his son and wife. If they boy were dead there would hardly be much of a threat to the Malfoy family. Dumbledore would fall soon enough and then all he would have to do would be to please his lord. Such a simple road. Ever so slightly downhill but that made it all the easier to see the end of it.
Or he could follow the other road. The one that looked liked it climbed a bit more and doubled back on it self more often then not.
The boy could be saved if it was done soon. His abuse was extensive; his scars were deeper than visible and numbered in quantity. But if they were allowed to heal the boy would be that much stronger. All the power in the world was only as strong as it's wielders will. Imagine what the boy could do were he to gain the strength needed to climb over his abuse.
It was the hat. Lucius blamed the bloody sorting hat.
If it weren't for that hat he wouldn't have even acknowledged the Gryffindor in him. He would have gone on blissfully unaware that risk occasionally yielded greater reward than caution.
He had been trying to talk himself out of it since yesterday but every argument just reinforced his desire. The boy must be saved. The hard road must be climbed.
Finally he reached the castle. Staring at it he was disappointed to find he didn't even mind his decision anymore. After all the straight and narrow path never was that appealing anyway.
October 26th
Morning
Albus Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was a patient wizard. His sister had always told him he would see the forest before the trees and that proved to be one of those statements that stuck in his head over the many years as something to keep in mind. It was one of those things that could be considered a fault if one let it but Albus Dumbledore never did. He could wait quite patiently for the trees to grow and naught be bothered by the time it took. Indeed at his age that analogy was far closer to accurate. Looking out now at the Forbidden Forest he could remember it being much smaller when he was a boy. How quickly time passes.
"Again, Dumbledore, its the last thing we want isn't it? If the French weren't so insistent on it I'd never pass such a bill but the Veela have quite over taken Le Monde Magique,. I do believe there isn't a French wizard who doesn't have a bit of veela somewhere in their ancestry." The mole on the minister's upper lip twitched as she tisked. "And they have the nerve to call themselves pureblood."
Albus eyed the Millicent Bagnold over his half spectacles and only with years of practice was able to suppress his smile. "Ah but Minister I do recall your father claiming to be descended from the Seer Ulma Essen."
The Minister paled a bit at that and stared at Albus frozen in dismay. Albus politely turned his attention to the lemon drops in the glass bumblebee shaped candy dish siting on the right corner of his desk. He was rather put out with himself as he had forgotten how sensitive those of the Dwarf lineage were. Reluctantly he refused his desire for one of the candies and focused on the minister . She had followed his gaze to the candy dish and stared at it absently as she struggled to regain her composure.
"Ahh yes a bit daft he always was, Bumble- I mean Dumbledore." She dragged her eyes up and lifted her chin haughtily. " None of the family every believed a word he said." The mole on her upper lip twitched. "As I was saying, Headmaster, I am not entirely on board with this bill. Do you know it even states that Magical Creatures will have the right to own land, property, and house their money in Gringotts." The Minister's face was flushed as she started passionately on that spiel. "Gringotts! Can you even imagine? Giving creatures rights as if they were- equal- to Wizards!"
Dumbledore did his best to look sympathetic but unconcerned which was rather hard to do. It involved frowning without furrowing one's eyebrows and that was a trick that had taken a decade to master.
"I would not be overly concerned, Minister," he began in a jovial but serious tone. Don't even ask how he pulled that off. "I do believe this Bill is just clarifying certain laws already in place." He pulled on his upper whiskers in a thoughtful way liking the feel of them. He had only just started growing them out and he rather thought they made him look a bit more dignified. "After all aren't there already laws implying similar ideas about the Veela, Goblins, and Merpeople?" Albus looked carefully at the Minister who opened her mouth then closed it without saying anything. "The Bill just expands to include other sentient magical creatures."
Millicent Bagnold sniffed and sneered and her mole nearly touched her nose. Albus hastily averted his eyes and his hand inched towards the lemon drops. Finally caving he picked one up and happily began opening the wrapper. Popping the sweet in his mouth he hummed happily. He loved lemon drops. Blinking he remembered his guest and his eyes twinkled to see the Minister frowning at him.
"Lemon drop?" He offered.
The Minister sniffed again and stood. "No thank you, Headmaster, I must be taking my leave."
"Oh, of course Minister, I understand. Perhaps another time." The Minister nodded curtly before leaving through the floo. Albus sucked on the lemon drop and frowned a bit. Such leave taking was rather abrupt. Younglings these days. No manners at all.
Ahh well. The lemon drop was just enough to wash away the mild irritation and bring him back to congratulating himself. The Bill was sure to pass and now the Minister wouldn't doggedly oppose it. Dumbledore was quite happily over joyed. The beginning of change was such a delight to watch.
Yes he was the type of wizard who saw the forest for the trees but that didn't mean he didn't occasionally enjoy getting dirty planting the seeds too. Indeed it would give him the chance to wear that delightful new robe Sprout had been so thoughtful to get him for his birthday. It was fluorescent green and was covered in delicately drawn magical herbs. He could have sworn even Severus was a tad jealous when he saw it. Perhaps he would get him one as well. Christmas was coming up-
A cursory knock on his door was the only alert he had before the door was opened and Lucius Malfoy sailed in looking elegant and rather posh as he usually did.
"Ahh Lucius, there you are." Albus' eyes were twinkling he knew. They did that when he was forcing himself not to laugh. "Your a bit late, my boy. I expected you nearly five minutes ago. You just missed the Minister."
Lucius' mouth attempted a smile and Dumbledore gave him points for the effort and then extra for refraining from a sneer.
"Indeed, Headmaster." A blond eyebrow was raised. "I apologize for my lateness." The boy sounded so sarcastic but an apology was a rare thing nowadays and Dumbledore had learned to take what he could get.
"Apology accepted, my boy. Do sit. Shall I get us some sugarplum tea? Or do you prefer Chai?" With a twitch of his whiskers he summoned a house elf and pushed the bumblebee dish towards the boy.
"Chai, if you please, Headmaster." Dumbledore nearly blinked in surprise and then did when Lucius Malfoy picked a wrapped lemon drop and began to unwrap it. The silver eyes of the Slytherin caught that and then he did smile. A genuine one at that. The crisp plastic wrapper crinkled a bit as he slipped the sweet into his mouth.
Well this should be fun. It had been a while before he had last truly matched wits with a clever Slytherin. Well at least one who wasn't afraid of hurting his feeling. Poor Severus was always so thoughtful that it was getting rather dull around here. His eyes were twinkling again and he let them.
A house elf promptly brought tea and Albus let himself enjoy the pleasant ritual of playing host. It was such a shame he didn't get to indulge in this more often. If only the younglings here weren't so busy all the time. He was sure they wouldn't be so rude as to refuse tea if they weren't up to their wands in work.
Lucius was in quite the pleasant mood today. He was even letting himself enjoy the tea. It made Albus' old heart warm to see his brewing skills so appreciated.
When his sugarplum tea was liberally dosed with sugar and cream and the boy had taken a sip of his Chai he finally felt the ritual settle in. Gentle magic attended them, watching carefully, which had been the purpose. That particular ritual had been created decades ago when Wizards had decided there was often a need for an unbiased and trustworthy witness. The magic didn't do much beyond seeing that both parties treated each other with respect. It had been perfect for the many petty squabbles that often sprouted up between purebloods. Now, sadly such rituals were being forgotten more and more. It was such a delight to see the young who still practiced.
"Now, my dear boy, what is it I can do for you today?" His eyes twinkled as Lucius' right eye twitched involuntarily. He really couldn't have not offered his help, as that was the words that the ritual called for. Slytherins were just so sensitive. Imply that one might need help and they tended to sulk for days and refuse just out of suspicion alone.
Lucius sipped his tea a second time before answering. Then rather boldly he jumped right in. "You can begin writing your speech to the wizarding public. You will be holding a press conference quite soon, Headmaster. This afternoon in fact." His right hand lightly caressed the snake head on his cane. Silver eyes mocked him with false concern. "I do hope you don't have plans?"
Albus felt guilty at the thrill that ran though him. Finally someone was setting up a game again. It was so hard to find good players. His eyes twinkled even more brightly.
"And what might this speech regard, my boy?" Abus asked in a courteously curious tone. He sipped his tea.
"Ahh yes." Replied Lucius. "That. I though you knew?" Lucius also took a sip of tea.
"I'm afraid my memory isn't quite what it used to be, my boy." Albus chucked, genuinely pleased. This was going rather well. "Why just the other day I was speaking to Fawkes and I forgot that he had gone to visit Hagrid. It simply slipped my mind."
"Completely reasonable, Headmaster." Consoled Lucius. "After all one can't remember everything, not even a wizard of your power. The end simply creeps up and in your hurry to finish everything before you go some things slip through the cracks."
Albus eyed him over his half spectacles and stroked his whiskers thoughtfully. "It does help when those young and spry help and old man out." The hint was rather obvious but Albus had never claimed to be a Slytherin. Just someone able to appreciate them.
"Indeed." Lucius waited another beat. "Such a shame your position will be lost when you finally pass beyond the veil."
Albus watched him curiosity highly aroused now. "And what position would that be my boy?"
"The one as the figure head for the light wizards of course." Lucius lifted his head and pinned Albus with his intent gaze. "Everyone had thought young Potter would one day take it up but with what's happened..."
Abruptly Albus wasn't amused. The gloves had just come off.
"And what, may I ask, has happened Mr. Malfoy?" Albus had straighted up in his seat and was watching the boy just as intently as he was being watched. Lucius looked away, but deliberately. He held the advantage. He knew more that his opponent did at the moment and he was savoring every second.
"My son and I were on our way to the Ministry yesterday. A father son outing if you will. You see he has been begging to go for ages now and finally managed to maneuver me into letting him come with. The most Slytherin child you will ever meet." Lucius took a sip of tea. "You won't believe the horrid scene we came upon. In a public lavatory no less."
Albus couldn't help but tense up at that and he saw the triumph in the silver eyes that noticed it. Deliberately Albus set his tea down. The china cup scurried to fit itself into it's saucer.
"Two muggles, a man and a woman were there. I admit I don't understand muggles, Headmaster, but even I was aware that what they were doing was . . . inappropriate." Despite his words Lucius' lips were curled into the beginning of a smile.
"They had a small boy, about four or five I would have guessed to look at him. He was being held against the wall by his wrists dangling more than three feet off the floor." Lucius tisked chidingly. "It was quite horrific. Blood dripped off the muggles hands' and the boy was covered in blood. Indeed the floor trampled with in bloody shoe prints. And the boy." Lucius's upper lip curled but for once Albus couldn't tell the emotion behind it. "He wept silently."
Lucius waited before continuing in a bored tone. " It was rather accidental that the female hit him so his head snapped back just enough to reveal the scar on his forehead." He took another sip of tea. "A scar in the shape of a lightening bolt."
Albus stared at him, and felt everything grow heavy. Suddenly he felt very old.
Lucius politely looked away but his smile remained. "Being an upstanding citizen of the wizarding World I intervened of course. Just enough to find out the reason for the. . . torture the boy was enduring."
Albus leaned heavily against his desk. He couldn't even summon the nerve to as the question. But no matter as Lucius held the quaffle now, and was speeding off with it.
"Can you imagine, Headmaster? Such violence against someone, simply because they are more or less different than you are."
Albus didn't have the heart to respond.
The boy. Harry. He had thought he had done what was best. He had placed him in what he had thought would be a healthy environment if not a warm one. Lily's muggle sister had seemed the ideal choice. Protection, isolation, and a normal life. That was all he had wanted for the child. Now it seemed that once again he had made a mistake that had destroyed an innocent's life. And not just any innocent but one crucial to the fate of the wizarding world.
"As to your speech, Headmaster, you will want to do damage control. After all no telling how the public will react when I am forced to reveal what monsters the muggle you placed the boy with are."
That got his attention. The reaction to such news could be terrible indeed. 'You can mourn later old man,' Albus told himself. 'Now is time to deal with the snake sitting in front of you poised to strike.'
Slowly he called his magic, letting it flow into the channels that were more than familiar after all these years. He could tell it was visibly felt when Lucius stiffened every so slightly.
"No doubt, Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps I should include the state Mr. Potter is in now?" Albus stepped his hands in front of him. "It might help to alleviate undue worry."
"Lucius' smile grew even more pronounced. "That would be helpful." He agreed smirking. "Although his condition the last time I saw him would more likely incite worry than alleviate it."
Albus was growing tired of this game. It was time for Gryffindor tactics. "Mr. Malfoy. What is it you want, exactly?"
Lucius grinned teeth showing and Albus gritted his teeth behind the thin line his lips held themselves in.
"You sound like your accusing me of something, sir." Lucius responded as he leaned back into his chair comfortably. "I find that highly offending when I came here with the best of intentions." Albus really couldn't help it when his magic responded to his growing impatience by flexing. Lucius merely grinned again. If the situation hadn't been so tense Albus would have been amazed by the amount of smiling he had managed to coax out of a Slytherin after all these years.
"Such as bringing important news to my attention, Mr. Malfoy?"
Lucius sniffed. "Of course, Headmaster. After all I was dreadfully concerned when it seemed as if you knew nothing of yesterday's event. I rushed over to see if you had fallen ill, perhaps, but I find you well and jolly and eating a lemon drop." This time he didn't bother to smother his sneer. "The only tolerable explanation seems to be that you had no knowledge of it and I felt it was my duty to inform you. After all Harry Potter is our Saviour. Surly it is our duty to see to it he is protected from any. . . violence whatsoever. Children are so fragile, Headmaster. You, of all wizards, should know."
"Of that I am quite aware, Mr. Malfoy." Albus leaned forward and stared at Lucius. There was something he was missing here. "Harry Potter especially, as the war is not that long ended. It is highly possible enemies might still lurk nearby." See he was capable of subtle speaking too. Or rather not so subtle speaking. "Taking him out of his protected home might give them the opportunity they've been waiting for." And he leaned forward even more. "Are you sure, my boy, of what you claim to have seen yesterday?"
Lucius' hand tightened on the head of his snake cane until his knuckles were white. Albus couldn't help but notice and his hopes fell.
"I do not have a doubt as to what I, and my seven year old son, witnessed yesterday evening." Lucius hissed. "The Boy Who Lived being abused by his muggle relatives? I assure you I have an imagination but not one so fantastical as that."
Albus grew even more heart heavy at that. Draco Malfoy had also seen this. If true the boy would never be able to overcome his hatred for muggles. Another life affected by his mistake. "Your son is well enough for you to be away, Lucius? Is there anything I could do? If he needs someone to speak with-"
"He would come to me."
Lucius eyed him with obvious suspicion. "And my son is of no concern of yours. Harry Potter is the one you should be worrying about, Headmaster. His situation is life threatening in my opinion and must be rectified."
Albus's eyed grew hard and he stared at Lucius with equal suspicion. "And what would you suggest, Mr. Malfoy?"
Lucius leaned back and watched him, his grip on his cane loosening. "Why I thought I would leave that up to the great and powerful Albus Dumbledore. You after all are far more experienced in such matters and I will defer to your judgment."
Albus blinked. He was abruptly confused. He had thought he knew what Lucius was about but that answer threw him.
"How kind of you, my boy." Albus tilted his head and studied the Slytherin. "I had thought you nearly had my speech planned out for me."
"Ah how silly of me." Lucius said absently. "I had forgotten I canceled that press conference. What a shame."
"Indeed." Albus struggled to understand what was going on with the Slytherin but found he couldn't. "Is that all, Lucius?"
"I believe it is, Headmaster." Lucius rose gracefully and nodded. "If you will excuse me I must get back home."
Albus stared at him a moment before nodding as well. " Of course, my boy. Until next time."
The ritual released them and Lucius headed for the door. Just before opening it he hesitated. "Ahh, Headmaster. There was once more thing." Albus' blue eyes snapped to Lucius' silver ones. " If, years down the road, he is ever curious, be sure to tell Harry Potter that it was I who brought this information to your attention." Those silver eyes bore into his and Albus felt as if he had cast Luminos for the first time. "One can never have too many allies, after all."
With that Lucius Malfoy left his office, closing the door softly behind him. Albus sat there a moment before a laugh escaped.
Well Achille's Heels he had finally been manipulated so smoothly he hadn't even noticed until it was done. Turning his mind to Harry Potter he found he wasn't bothered by that.
October 26th
Early Evening
The door bell rang.
It startled everyone in the room into jumping.
"Stay here." Said Petunia with a glare at Harry. She left to answer it and Vernon closed his eyes as if he were in pain.
Click, click, click went her heels, and then the door opened. "Yes?" The sound of her curt snap was easily heard in the sitting room.
"Good Evening. Petunia Dursley I presume?" An old man it sounded like. He spoke in a courteous but grave tone. Something in Harry's stomach slipped out of place. "Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Merde.
Harry suddenly felt dizzy. How could this have happened? Don't be stupid. The whisper sounded disgusted. The tall blond mage. That was it. He had told someone. Of course he had.
"I am here to speak to your nephew, Harry Potter. Might I come in?"
Harry was near to panicking. So is Petunia. The whisper smirked but Harry ignored it. He had just vowed never to used magic. Never under any circumstances. He had meant that vow. But there was a someone on their door step looking for him. Someone who knew about the – the punishments. Someone who was a more than likely a wizard.
"No you may not!" Petunia hissed. "I will not – you cannot - I - The boy is on punishment!" The hinges on the door sounded as if she were trying to close it but the slam of the door was never heard.
"I do apologize for my unannounced visit but I am afraid it is imperative that I speak to young Harry." His voice was jovial this time but firm. "Surly you will invite me in? It is rude to leave guests lingering in doorways after all."
Harry peeked at Vernon, who was pale with fear and straining to see through the wall into the entrance hall. Swallowing down his own fear he reached into the cup of liquid light. Letting the magic fill his 'hands' he sent it to quickly heal every pain he had. Visible wounds first. Then everything else. He was aware now that what he was doing was wrong but the fear of being caught doing magic paled in comparison to the fear of the Dursleys being caught.
"Fine." Petunia's voice was thin. "Come in then."
Boots sounded on the hard wood floor, Petunia's heels following. "I assume your sitting room is this way?"
"Yes but-" Petunia started but it was too late. Suddenly there he was in the doorway. Harry turned to look at him just as did Vernon whose mouth dropped open at the sight.
A tall thin man with waist length silver hair, beard, and mustache paused just after entering the room. He had half moon spectacles upon his crooked nose and wore a pointed hat upon his head. It was yellow and matched his yellow robes that fell to the floor. Pink stars and hearts decorated the hems of the robe and he wore a long red cloak over the robes which also touched the wooden floor. The toes of florescent pink, pointed-toe boots could be seen peeking out from underneath.
His bright blue eyes swept the room, passed over Vernon, and lit on Harry.
"Ahh, Harry.!" Dumbledore's smile reached his eyes which twinkled like the stars on his robes. "So good to see you again, my boy!"
He strode over to the settee and seated himself beside Harry before reaching up his sleeve and pulling out something yellow.
"Lemon drop, Harry?"
Harry just stared at the wizard before him and was speechless. Dumbledore was no doubt Dominant. Harry could practically smell it. But his body language was confusing and his tone held more than one meaning. Harry couldn't even make out more than a few. He also made Harry's throat thick with - something. Relief? Sadness? Happiness? All of those said the whisper. And Harry felt – scared. And suspicious.
Careful to hide those emotions behind his eyes he accepted the lemon drop. He didn't drop his eyes submissively though. He didn't dare. But he did glance at Petunia who was looking at him in shock. She had noticed the lack of bruises on his skin then. And the lack of cuts and pain. She knew he had used magic. Green eyes held green eyes for a long moment before she nodded, giving permission. Harry gave her a small smile before turning his eyes back to the old man who called himself a wizard.
Dumbledore smiled a jolly smile at Harry. "And how are you today, my boy?" He asked this as if he were being a polite guest but Harry could hear the intent interest in his voice and felt sadness in his throat.
"Alright, sir" Said Harry softly, pushing past the emotions in his throat that didn't seem to be his. "How are you?"
Dumbledore's smile got impossibly wider. "I am well, Harry, quite well." He took a deep breath as if breathing in the crisp air. "October has always been my favorite time of year, I must say. Halloween right around the corner." He tilted his head in a curious way. "Do you like Halloween Harry?"
Harry looked at him hiding his suspicion. "Yes sir, very much."
"Ahh." Was all Dumbledore said but the sadness in Harry's throat increased.
Harry hesitated but then took a risk. "Shouldn't I, sir?"
Dumbledore looked at him suddenly sober. "You should, of course, my boy. Halloween is a very special holiday. But I would understand if you didn't child. After the events of six years ago, you might find such festivities uncomfortable."
Harry grew very still. Licking his lips he looked at Petunia who, while her face seemed pinched and strained, had remained silent. Her face was pinched with irritation. She's afraid you'll tell. Said the whisper. Vernon was still staring at Dumbledore. And he's just afraid. "If I might ask, sir, what happened six years ago?"
Dumbledore looked at him over his half spectacles very gravely. "A dark wizard attacked three friends of mine that day, Harry. Two died as a result of that attack." He leaned a bit closer. "Your parents, Harry." He very gently put a hand on Harry shoulders.
Harry forced himself not to react beyond looking down. Don't flinch. Don't tense. Don't shove his bloody hand off. He shoved the information of when his parents died away. He could deal with it later There was something going on now.
"Didn't you know, Harry?"
Harry looked at his hands and forced himself not to tense. He should have seen it coming. Yes you should have said the whisper. He was testing you. You failed
"No sir," he whispered.
" I see." The wizard sounded very resigned now. "Look at me my boy." He said it very gently but it was an order.
Harry looked up, his eyes meeting soft blue ones. And suddenly they were his whole world. Suddenly they were all Harry could see and it felt as if the old wizard was climbing into his head. Indeed Harry started seeing his own memories flash by. Dudley's birthday, the first time he was given chores. Halloween, Christmas, an odd day in July when he had been locked in the shed because he had pushed Marge's dog ripper away when he tried to bite him. Cooking, cleaning, punishments, the cupboard, all sped past Harry's eyes, behind Harry's eyes, as if they were pages in a book and someone was gently turning them.
Harry was afraid. In fact he was just plain scared. The wizard was somehow in his head. He was looking at everything Harry had tried to keep secret. He was looking at the oddest things. He was – he was invading Harry's mind. But if Harry tried to push him out he'd know about the magic. If Harry tried to push him out he'd be using magic.
He was about to learn of the magic anyway, though. Worse, he had already come dangerously close to learning about Crescent. Harry couldn't help but tremble. If the wizard found out about Hylaarr and Osset're . . . Actually Harry didn't know what would happen but he desperately didn't want to find out. He began to grab memories, pages, and hide them. Beyond the memories there was darkness; it looked like being in the cupboard at night. He hid memories there. Memories of Crescent. Pages after pages of Hylaarr and Osset're. And then of magic. Of him finding out about magic. Of him using magic.
Faster and faster gentle hands turned pages and stopped now and then to read their contents. Faster and faster Harry pulled out pages and hid them. But the wizard was still finding out things. About Harry. About how Harry acted, and thought, and hid himself from the Dursleys. And distantly Harry felt rage creeping into his throat. He could barely breath through it. If you don't hide more he'll more than likely kill the Dursleys. The whisper didn't seem to distressed by that, but Harry was. He skipped ahead and started grabbing pages by the handful and hiding them. He could barely keep ahead.
The first week at school sped past; Professor Peter. Harry couldn't grab that one in time. Those gentle fingers seemed to stop and linger on Harry's vow never to trust again. The sadness and anger in Harry's throat warred for supremacy.
And then the they lingered on the doctor's visit. Harry hastily hid his meeting of Draco as it had him using magic in it. The reason for the punishment became unclear but then The Punishment was unfolding and Harry couldn't breath though the rage. He was glad when his memory of that ended and those gentle fingers closed his book of memories, and soothed it with a pat. Then finally Harry was let loose.
Gently blue eyes looked at him and it was all Harry could do to not look away. How dare he. How dare that wizard; the four-eyed, old, buffoon! Or better yet Bumblebee. He was yellow and looked like a bumblebee. Harry didn't like bumblebees since Dudley had pushed him into a hydrangea bush and he had gotten stung four times.
It was cold in the room and it took Harry a few seconds to figure out why. The wizard had called up his magic. It wasn't visible, like Osset're's but it was obviously there. At least to Harry.
This old wizard was very dangerous.
"I suppose you know about Lord Voldemort then Harry?" Asked Dumbledore his voice deceptively mild.
Harry nodded not trusting himself to speak. He already knew said the whisper. He read it in your mind. The question was a farce. Designed to bring the conversation where he wanted it to go.
"You see years ago that dark wizard was nothing more than a boy your age. He lived in a rather grim orphanage as his parents had died too. And he also had magic." Vernon made a muted strangled sound but Dumbledore ignored him. "He was able to gain a semblance of control over it at a very young age but sadly he also had a tendency towards cruelty, secrecy, and domination."
Yes but what had caused him to have to? The whisper sneered and Harry wanted to but refrained. "Do you know why, sir?"
Dumbledore looked at him eyes sad. "When children are left to their own devices, ignored, or neglected they do not learn right from wrong. Then, perhaps, others are cruel towards them," Blue eyes glanced at the Dursleys disapprovingly before turning back to Harry. "It teaches them to be cruel back. I believe such a thing happened to the young Voldemort and he was forever scarred by it. When he grew up he simply sought to make sure if there was pain others suffered it and not him."
Harry could practically here Dumbledore chastising the Dursleys and he was disgusted. Just as he had always thought. Someone know knew about the punishments and they had taken it all wrong. Dumbledore was wrong. The Dursley's did so much for him. And they most certainly did not ignore him. They taught him right from wrong. They tried at least. It was Harry who never obeyed.
He was threatening the Dursleys as well. He was trying to tell them that if Harry ever turned out like that dark wizard it would be their fault. He was trying to guilt them into ceasing their harsh punishments. Harry could have told him that they would be more likely to punish him more after that story if just to make sure he never became such a thing
"When he grew up he hated those who had hurt him. His hate translated to that those who had no magic, muggles. He then sought to hurt them back. To destroy them. All of them. Most wizards opposed him. Your parents included. They defied him again and again." There was a curious tone in his voice when he said this but Harry didn't understand. "And then there was a Prophesy. It said that their unborn child, you Harry, would defeat him. He found out and sought to eliminate that threat." Dumbledore watched him carefully the entire time as if trying to guage how the story was affecting him. "Six years ago on Halloween he killed them and tried to kill you. But the curse he used bounced off you, my boy, and hit him instead."
Harry had looked down during the story. It had affected him. It confirmed what he already knew. It was his fault that his parents were dead. "And I killed him." It was a statement. He already knew he had.
Dumbledore was silent as he rose and walked slowly over to the fireplace which was unlit. He took a lemon drop from inside his sleeve and unwrapped it as he looked at the pictures on top of the mantle. "Some people believe that." he whispered before he popped the candy in his mouth.
But he doesn't. The whisper finished. Harry looked at him in surprise. "Don't you, sir?" He asked.
Dumbledore met his eyes from across the room. "No, my boy, I do not. Lord Voldemort was a powerful wizard, with much knowledge of dark magic. I believe it is more than likely he remains alive." Dumbledore turned his eyes away from Harry. "Lurking in shadows. Biding his time."
"Utter nonsense."Bellowed Vernon or he tried. He was still weak and his bellow sounded more like a wounded cat than and angry bull. "That boy killed him! You said so it the letter you left with him on the front stoop! He is a murder, an evil murdering little bas-"
"Enough." Although he didn't yell it Vernon reacted as if he had. "That will be enough, Mr. Dursley." Dumbledore looked like a thundercloud now. Powerful, unpredictable, and dark with rage.
"Six years ago I brought you a child whose life I feared for should he be left unprotected. The magic I evoked means that Harry has powerful protection while he can call this house home. I left you a letter explaining his parent's murder and expressing the hope that you would care for him as though he were your own." Blue eyes flashed furiously Vernon who trembled uncontrollably. "You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and violent cruelty at your hands. The best that be said is he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy in those pictures on your mantle."
Both Petunia and Vernon glanced at the pictures checking to see if there were only pictures of Dudley. Harry could see their confusion. Such idiots sneered the whisper. Harry ignored it once again. This had gone on long enough. Harry had let Dumbledore rage at them as he knew nothing he could say in their defense would be believed but he could at least distract the bumblebee.
"You brought me here then, sir?" Harry whispered not really asking. He didn't know why he felt so horrified. I know why. The whisper was barely heard.
Dumbledore sighed and turned to look over his half moon spectacles at Harry. A sad regret passed over the blue that looked at him. "Yes, my boy. November 1st six years ago, I brought you here."
Harry was frozen and simply stared after him. Intense sadness and guilt filled his throat that Harry now knew was the wizard's but for some reason the rage in his throat remained and it wasn't Dumbledore's anymore.
"Yes, my boy. And I am sorrier than you know. I am more than responsible for the unjust punishments you have know here and I can never make up for that mistake." Dumbledore's guilt was thick and slimy in Harry's throat. "I can, however, assure you it will never happen again."
A child of foreboding swept over Harry and he nearly panicked. "Are you taking me away?" He whispered shaking at the thought. You know he really ought to. 'Shut up.' Harry told the whisper.
Dumbledore's eyes grew even more sad. "No, my boy. I'm afraid you must remain. That you have house room here insures that you are protected from any outside source that wishes you harm. I fear your life would not last long should you leave."
Harry breathed a little easier. He was staying. That was good. But then magic began pouring off Dumbledore. It filled the room with thickness and Harry couldn't help his choked cough.
"You will never again be able to physically harm Harry Potter."Dumbledore said gravely, magic in ever word. "Should you do so the magic I have used will rise up and do to you exactly what you do to the boy."
The magic settled with a whoosh into both Petunia and Vernon who apparently never felt a thing. Harry on the other hand felt incredibly sick.
Dumbledore walked over to where Harry still sat and looked at him very intently. "Be well, Harry." He whispered softly and brushed his hand against Harry's shoulders. Then he left, the door closing quietly behind him.
Harry just stared at Petunia and Vernon who stared back. I don't like the wizard said the whisper softly. Harry agreed. Finally Vernon fainted and Petunia snapped to attention calling his name frantically. Unable to wake him she snapped at Harry to get gone and Harry took that opportunity to retreat to his cupboard. At least the wizard's magic couldn't take this punishment away.
Ok. Hell of a comeback eh? Perhaps just as slow as I've been going in the past, and I am aware of how slow I am, but that is the way the story seems to go. I will try to pick it up once he gets at Hogwarts.
I'm posting this chapter and the next two today. Enjoy.
Fitful.