What Do We Fight For?

Disclaimer: No, my wishes have not come true, therefore Harry Potter still doesn't belong to me...

A/N:Thank you so much for reviews, follows and favourites. This will likely be the last update for several weeks as exams start in just over a week. But who knows? I wrote this while I was supposed to be working so anything could happen.

Not much happening in this chapter. Still, hope you enjoy it. Chapters have been rather short but I can try and make them longer if that's what people want... Maybe around 5K? They would probably be filled with more detail though and therefore take longer to write. Might be better, might be worse, might not make a difference. Up to you.


Chapter 4:

In the early hours of the afternoon a scrawny boy with gravity defying hair appeared in the apparition point present in Diagon Alley, his petite figure slinking immediately and automatically into the shadows cast by the walls.

Harry took several minutes just watching- observing the alley and all that was different. Not much was. His eyes were then inescapably drawn to Ollivanders wand shop, longing stirring up within him. Oh how he yearned to go and get his wand. But was it really wise to? Deciding he would think more on it later Harry turned around and almost froze at the sight of Riddle striding confidently down the street. It was busy, and he was small so Harry felt fairly confident he wouldn't be seen. However he entertained the thought of following the wizard. Before he could really make up his mind Riddle had vanished into the crowd and Harry realised it was pointless trying to find him.

Deciding to do what he came here for, Harry went in search of a bookshop.

'Flourish & Blotts', it seemed, was still there in the 40's, and Harry eagerly entered the bookstore to be greeted with the familiar site of shelves upon shelves stacked up to the ceiling with books. The musty odour of the aged books combining with the fresh ink on crisp pages of more recent ones.

Now where did he start?

He wasn't even entirely certain what he was looking for let alone where to find it.

A collection of books. Random or otherwise seemed the best option. If it seemed like it might just contain something important. A sentence that would shred some light on his situation.

It could be an overreaction… It could mean nothing. But that didn't mean Harry wasn't curious.

Maybe he could also research more into time travel. The thought had crossed his mind of simply making sure he was never born. Whether that meant killing one of his ancestors or interfering by some other means and it was a tempting thought but then... paradox. Harry had no clue what that might do. Because if he hadn't been born he could never have gone back in time, never have prevented himself from existing. And maybe that would only make things worse. He couldn't be sure and while he was all for taking risks... it was too large of a risk to take.

'Bonds & Oaths' was the section Harry eventually found himself in. Eyes scanning the titles, flickering from the binds of each for something, anything. Then he felt a presence behind him… no- two. Shadows cast over the shelves as they obscured the bright lighting.

Turning he saw two aristocratic teenage boys with sharp features, black and blonde, standing by the opposite shelf. Onyx eyes caught him staring- a sneer twisting his handsome features, disdain consuming his face, "What are you staring at Mudblood!"

Harry merely blinked his eyes a couple of times, gazing at the boy with an almost curious look on his face before turning back to the bookshelves, ignoring them completely, already knowing everything he needed to. Purebloods. Rich and Spoilt. Thinking themselves bigger than they truly were.

And clearly not used to being ignored.

Seconds past before Harry was grabbed roughly by the shoulders. Clammy hands gripping into his skin, tearing at the weak fabric. "Careful." Harry said slowly, eyeing the hand with both disinterest and contempt. "You might catch something." It was an insult to himself, he knew that. But the blonde haired teenager instantly let go, dull blue eyes flashing with disgust and Harry didn't remotely care that he had mocked himself- because he had achieved what he wanted.

Instead the wizard who seemed rather dense crossed his arms in a manner that he supposed was meant to be intimidating. Harry thought he looked more like a petulant child. Maybe he would start to throw a tantrum if he didn't get what he wanted.

"He asked you a question Mudblood!"

This time, he stared unnervingly at them. Didn't they know the word lost its enmity if it was just thrown about so often and carelessly. "I was staring at the books." He answered, his voice coming out bored and disinterested, lacking any sort of misery or anger at being accused of having 'dirty blood'.

The blond one- who Harry guessed was more muscle than brains- took a threatening step forward. The larger body towering over his skinny one. Harry wondered if he knew how pathetic he looked- picking on a child 3 times smaller. At least to everyone else's point of view.

"I bet you think you're so smart." The teenager spat, staring down at Harry malevolently. Yet he noticed the other boy refrained from contact of any kind, Harry could have laughed.

So he did.

Both paused, expression changing to one of slight bewilderment as his light laughter reached their ears. Filled with amusement and something else they couldn't identify. Something darker.

After a brief moment where Harry and the muscle simply stared at each other- Harry with a slight grin on his face and the other with an expression that clearly showed he thought Harry might be insane- there was a sigh of irritation from behind them. Both switched their gaze to the tall boy standing there with an annoyed air about him as he gazed on disapprovingly.

"Dolohov, quit with the frivolous inanity already. Surely you don't want to be late. You should know how he hates to be kept waiting- especially after last time." There was an almost panic in those last words though it was hidden well and his smooth face remained uncaring and emotionless. It could have just been any passing statement but the effect on Dolohov was instantaneous. His face paled considerably, eyes betraying slight fear for a moment before his face was once again blank although the dread in his eyes did not dissipate.

"You're right of course Lestrange." He drawled calmly. Then he turned to Harry, who had just picked a book of the shelf and sneered, grabbing the book out of Harry's hand before practically shoving the it back at his small figure for some unknown reason. It would have likely hit him in the face had his seeker reflexes not acted up and caught it before it could do so.

Then they were gone, leaving Harry clutching the book in his arms and wondering just what they were up to. Deciding it was none of his concern he gazed at the paper and ink in is hands, debating if he could possibly hide it in the rags that dared to be called clothes. Realising that no, he couldn't, he furrowed his eyebrows. Focusing on his magic. Taking control. It wasn't even particularly hard in the end. After all- accidental magic could do so much more… he just had to try and make it not so accidental.

Watching as the dark blue book shrank and condensed until it was a much more manageable size, Harry shoved it in one of his pockets before walking casually out of the door. No one the wiser.


Half an hour later, as he was slowly ambling down the bustling street, his eyes were unwittingly drawn to the part of the alley that seemed to be shrouded in shadows, the dark and foreboding tunnel void of people and a far cry from the busy, lively climate of Diagon Alley.

He paused, considering. For all the time he had spent here, which was admittedly not much, he only had one book to show for it. Topics on souls, time travel and horcuxes? Well they were decidedly more dark than light meaning that if he wanted to find more precise information on the subjects, Knockturn Alley would be the place to go.

Slipping into the shadows he was, for once, grateful for his small body as it allowed him to go unnoticed as he stealthily slid into the alley.

As soon as he had entered he could feel the difference, the shift in atmosphere. Diagon Alley felt bright and cheerful, filled with talkative people as they went about their business without a care in the world. In contrast, Knockturn Alley was filled with a sense of uneasiness and apprehension, the constant worry that what was lurking silently in the shadows would leap out at you; seize your soul as they ripped your heart out and tore it to shreds. It was not a place for the weak, and most certainly not a place for a six-year-old child.

Harry knew he might be targeted which was why he stuck to the darkness of the walls, taking comfort in the obscurity they offered that he knew hid him from most creatures roaming around these parts. Not that he was afraid, because despite the deceptiveness of his appearance he wasn't a six year old boy- however no one else would know that. They would expect him to be more or less powerless because of his age. An easy target. And he would rather avoid any conflict if he could.

His eyes landed finally on his destination although he couldn't say that he had had a particular place in mind, and he soundlessly swept inside the shop. He was greeted by a dim store, lit only by everlasting candles that cast an eerie glow over the room. The delicious scent of dark magic filled his nostrils and he breathed in sharply, eyes fluttering for a second as he swayed on the spot before briskly composing himself. Now wasn't the time to indulge in the pleasure of the darker side of magic. Who knew what it might do to him.

As he walked further into the store he took in the surroundings. There were glass cases containing all manner of objects, oddly shaped items that despite the innocent look they might portray, he knew were anything but. He walked past a gadget that would, according to the description, produced a gas that would send whoever breathed it in into an uncontrollable nightmare. Stuck in their worst fears and suffering through agony as though they were real for what felt like 4 months but was in actual fact only a day. Then there were stacks of the more rarer and... disturbing potion ingredients that couldn't be purchased at your regular, cheery apothecary. Soon he came to the part that he was truly interested in however: The books.

Only one row of books stood in the corner, almost hidden by the darkness that consumed the crook with merely two shelves, but Harry knew the books were priceless... Or, at least, very expensive. Prices he couldn't hope to afford without his vaults glared up at him from their tantalising tags as the books lay perfectly still. Despite unmoving, the covers seemed to taunt him, as if screaming up at him in smugness, though how a book could be smug he didn't know.

Suddenly he froze, his eyes coming to rest on an extremely old-looking book, the colour long faded with the title barely readable. Squinting at the cover however he could just make out the words: "Soul bonds.' It could be perfect, or could be useless. He needed it, yet he couldn't hope to gain it.

Not with money at least. Casting his eyes up to the still empty counter briefly, he reached out to grab the book, his hands only inches from it's mocking cover before the sound of the door opening caused him to jerk his hand back. Risking a glance at the person who had entered he, once again, found himself frozen, this time with a small stirring of panic as he watched a tall, handsome Tom Riddle walk casually into the store. He just couldn't catch a break could he?


"M'Lord."

"You're late."

Lestrange and Dolohov both audibly gulped, eyes flitting nervously around the small room they'd borrowed in a shady inn near the entrance/exit of Knockturn. Everyone else was already there and staring at them with a mixture of pity, glee and excitement.

"My apologies M'Lord." Lestrange said smoothly, falling gracefully down to his knees. He was soon followed by Dolohov only less elegantly as his heavy weight caused a dull 'thud' to resonate around the room.

"We got..." He hesitated and Lord Voldemort raised an eyebrow, observing the two before him with their heads bowed in submission.

"You got what Lestrange? Please do finish your sentences."

Another gulp, "_Held back M'Lord."

The Dark Lord hummed thoughtfully, "And pray tell me, what you felt was more important than arriving to my meeting on time?" The question was asked casually and had they not known what their Lord was like, they would have allowed themselves to relax. As it were however, they both tensed instead.

It was Dolohov who answered this time though, "By a Mudblood My Lord." He sneered and Lestrange held his breath, inwardly cursing Dolohov and his Gryffindor mouth.

"So you're telling me," Their Lords voice was dangerously low and most of them could feel the dark magic crackling in the air around them, tensing and suffocating, preparing to strike. "That the reason you are late to my meeting, is because of something as insignificant and worthless as a Mudblood?"

Both of the cowering teenagers stayed silent, not daring to speak for fear of his wrath.

They got it anyway. "Answer me!" The words were practically hissed and both recoiled in fear, eyes fixed on the floor in a desperate attempt to make themselves inconspicuous.

"Y-Yes My Lord." Dolohov whimpered. No sooner had the words left his mouth than they heard the dreaded word everyone had been waiting for:

"Crucio." It was said so casually, so disinterestedly that one might have thought he was discussing the weather and not torturing two teenage boys.

Agony filled screams then swamped the room, echoing round while filling the more sadistic members with a sense of thrill and would have undoubtedly been heard by the other occupants of the inn if not for the silencing wards placed around them. The curse was kept on for a full minute before it was released.

"Get up."

Both boys did so without a protest, knowing it could have been much worse. They struggled to stand, still shaking from the after effects of the curse and found themselves leaning against the wall for support. No one helped them. Here, in the confinement of the room at their Lord's feet… it was every man for himself.

Just when they thought they were free, the Dark Lord turned to Dolohov thoughtfully, "This is the second time you've been late to one of my meetings. Isn't it Antonin?"

Antonin froze, unwilling to answer and a malevolent smirk twisted up on their Lord's face. "Yes, it seems you didn't learn your lesson the first time." He said, his tone could almost pass for sympathetic if his eyes didn't scream sadistic excitement and danger. "I do not tolerate lateness Dolohov, perhaps it's time you remember that." His voice was ice cold, unforgiving and Dolohov knew he was in for another round of torture.

He wasn't wrong. Curses he'd never heard of before were sent his way while everyone else watched either eagerly, or just thankful that it wasn't them. At one point his flesh was exceedingly slowly peeled away before feeling like it was burned back on, then he was put in a state of nothingness. No sight or smell or touch, he couldn't even hear anything, left in a void of emptiness for what felt like an eternity. He was sure he was screaming, clawing at his own skin if just to feel something. Slowly being driven mad before he was finally released from the spell and allowed to stand up although it took all of his resolve to do so, leaning against the wall- unable to stay up without it.

He was ignored for the rest of the meeting, a meeting that mind you, didn't last long. Once it was over and everyone had left, Tom too, exited the inn satisfied with how things had turned out. Even away from Hogwarts he had complete control over most of the Slytherin's. His knights were still as loyal and eager to please as they had been when they'd left. Now Tom only had to hope they would remain competent and not forget everything he had taught them since he'd formed their little group. He wouldn't have insufficient and incapable wizards following and doing tasks for him after all.

They had one year left at Hogwarts. And that thought was both wistful and filled him with gleaming sense of excitement. Once he left he would no longer have so many restrictions on what he could do, where he could go. He could finally start expanding his support group, finally delve deeper into all the possibilities the magic world had to offer. Explore the depths of magic long forgotten or never practiced, never successfully performed. A twisted smile spread across his face.

Leaving the inn he then turned to go further into the Alley, he was owed a certain book...


A/N: Phew, finally finished! I apologise for any mistakes there may have been. I'm not particularly sure when it will pick up... I don't really have a solid plot or much of a plot at all... I'm mainly seeing where it takes me. Thanks for reading!