Let's play a madlib!! Everyone likes those, right? Right?
I know it's been four months since I updated, and it's because of [good excuse]. And I'd like to say to all of my readers [lengthy apology words]. I know I am a [negative adjective(s)] person.
But I also know my readers are [at least three positive adjectives] people. And because of that, and since it is the season of forgiveness, when they throw [plural nouns] at me, they will do so [adverb]. And I hope that they will then continue to read and review my story.
(That probably seems flippant, but I am genuinely sorry for the extremely long time it's taken me to update. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and kept believing that I would continue the story!)
Without further ado, Chapter 23
Walking alone through the halls of Hogwarts, a young man looked down at the Slytherin badge on his robes, scowling. He wasn't truly ashamed of his house--in fact, he and his family had been sworn liegemen of the Slytherin family since before the founding of Hogwarts, and he was proud to continue that tradition--but he hated what it had been twisted to represent. He and his family were aware of the true meaning of the word 'mudblood,' and all the rest of what Slytherin's teachings had truly meant. But they had never been one of the most wealthy or influential families, and they had never been able to convince other pureblood families. Those families were content with the abuse of the word mudblood, since it gave them a feeling of superiority and a target for all of their base desires.
None of this had ever truly bothered him before. He knew that Lord Voldemort understood and believed in Slytherin's true ideals, and he had faith that the Dark Lord would, eventually, use them as a basis for his regime. His family had been patient for centuries, and he could be patient, too.
But now, everything had changed.
It had begun in his first year at Hogwarts, when he had seen Hermione Granger in their first flying lesson. She had seemed so supremely confident in all of their other lessons, and he had always admired the girl for her intelligence and magical strength. But oddly enough, it was seeing her so nervous and insecure made him realize she was beautiful, too. For the next several years, he watched from afar. He was highly irritated at the Yule Ball, with everyone talking about how beautiful she was as if it was some newly revealed secret.
Of course, even then, he hadn't felt threatened. He was fairly certain she had only agreed to go to the Ball with Krum because she was flattered, and saying 'no' would have been rude. Besides, he knew Krum would be going back to Durmstrang after the year ended. Despite the rumors, he also knew that she wasn't interested in either Potter or Weasley, and she never spent a lot of time with any of the other boys at school. The rumors, however, kept anyone else from getting too close. No one wanted to get on Potter's bad side, and if Hermione was dating either Potter or Weasley, flirtations with her would certainly do that. Not to mention the fact that her status as a 'mudblood' kept a significant number of boys from pursuing her. He thought it would be safe to wait it out, and approach her after school was finished, when school House was no longer so important, and he wouldn't have to worry about ruining either of their reputations.
And then she got that Mordred-damned letter. With the perfume. A gift that was both tasteful and expensive. The list of people who could have sent her that was fairly small. Suddenly, it seemed that he might have some competition after all. And he had been waiting far too long to go down without a fight.
No, he couldn't approach her in person. The badge on his robe was enough to prevent that. Not only would Potter and Weasley not allow him to get anywhere near her, his House would undoubtedly find out about it, and the least he could expect would be social outcasting. And she would probably believe it to be a trick or a prank.
But two could play the 'secret admirer' game. And so far, he thought he had played it fairly well. He knew she had liked all of the gifts he had sent so far. And now it was time to up the ante a bit. He was headed for the owlery to send off a special order.
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It had taken Harry a good bit of studying, but he now finally felt completely certain that he had perfectly memorized the etiquette required to present himself to the Patriarch of his family. And then he spent another month in waiting for a time he could get into and out of Dumbledore's office. Finally, a time came where Dumbledore would be away all weekend at a Ministry conference, and Harry still knew the password for the Headmaster's office. After careful research, he had decided that if he wore his invisibility cloak, Silenced his entire body, and used a charm to hide his magical signature, he could get into the office, borrow the hat for a while, talk to Godric, and return the hat with no one being the wiser. And if he did get caught, he could claim he had just wanted to talk to the Hat. It would be true, after all.
Taking the hat from the office went smoothly. Everyone else was at dinner when he went, so no one was there to see the gargoyle slide open and the staircase move. Fawkes had gone out with Dumbledore, and the Hat was being stored on a low shelf behind Dumbledore's desk, so none of the portraits saw it being taken away. Still Silenced and under the invisibility cloak, Harry took the Hat to the Room of Requirement. Once inside, he placed the Hat on a conveniently provided throne-like chair. He also asked the room for a few implements he would need for the mini-ritual and received them. Though it felt a little awkward speaking so formally to an article of clothing, Harry knelt in front of the chair and began.
"In the Name of Merlin and Morgana, I, Harry James Potter, son of James Alexander Potter and Lily Marie Evans Potter, scion of the line of Gryffindor, greet thee, Godric Gryffindor, Founder and Patriarch of the line of Gryffindor. May my every word and deed bring honour to our family."
As Harry finished his words, the Hat seemed to rise off the chair of its own accord. A moment later, the Hat was perched on the lap of a tall man wearing old-fashioned scarlet robes with gold accents. He was tall and muscular, with a stoic face. Everything about him was militarily neat and precise, except his hair, which was the exact same shade of black as Harry's, and tousled in a similar manner.
"In the Name of Merlin and Morgan, I Godric Gryffindor, Founder and Patriarch of the line of Gryffindor, greet thee, Harry James Potter, son of James Alexander Potter and Lily Marie Evans Potter, scion of my line. May our family always shelter, protect, and guide you."
Together, they chanted "May our family be blessed by Magic. May we be bold to protect each other, meek to guide each other, strong to defend each other, and gentle to comfort each other."
Harry then rose, and fetched a golden chalice filled with wine. He presented it to Godric, saying "The blood of our family flows through my veins. I present myself as the Heir of this family. If you will have me, partake of this wine." He returned to his kneeling position.
Godric took the chalice and raised it to his lips. He could not actually drink, but Harry assumed that was good enough for the sake of the symbolism. Godric spoke his return line. "The blood of our family flows through your veins. To be Heir, you must pledge to defend the family to your utmost ability, even if that blood must be shed. If you will accept this pledge, rise, and partake of this wine."
Harry rose, took back the chalice that Godric held out to him, and took a small sip. He then poured out the remainder of the cup, saying, "To defend this family, I would spill my blood as the wine spills from this cup. Let Merlin and Morgana bear witness to my pledge."
Godric rose, placed his large hands on top of Harry's head, and in a booming voice declared "Harry James Potter is hereby declared to be Harry James Potter Gryffindor, Heir of the Gryffindor family!" Scarlet and golden light swirled around the two men, filling Harry with a sense of love and belonging. As quickly as it had begun, it was over, and Godric had resumed his seat.
Formalities over, Harry silently asked the Room for a chair of his own, and once it was provided, he gratefully sat.
"So, young Harry," Godric's deep voice rumbled. "I accept you as Heir, but we have much to discuss. I'm quite disappointed in you, young man."
Harry blinked in surprise. He hadn't been expecting that. "I'm sorry to have disappointed you, Grandfather, but I don't know what I've done wrong."
Godric snorted. "Let's start out simply, shall we? You've been at Hogwarts for almost six full years now, yet you've neglected to speak to me until now. You don't seem like the sort to be so deliberately disrespectful, so I'll give you a chance to explain yourself. Why is that?"
"Well, I didn't even know I was a member of your family until this year. And then Salazar told me you wouldn't speak to me until I had presented myself to you formally, and I didn't actually know how to do that, so I had to read about--"
"WHAT?!?" Godric exclaimed. "Are you trying to say that the last scion of the Gryffindor family--my Heir--is an uncultured Mudblood? Don't you have any respect for the sacred traditions of wizard kind?"
"I'm sorry, Grandfather. As I'm sure you know, my parents were killed when I was very young, and I was given to a muggle family. No one ever even told me that wizards had different traditions from muggles, let alone taught me about them. But I'm trying really hard to learn them now."
"I knew that you were given to a muggle family, though until your recent conversations with Dumbledore, I didn't know how badly they treated you. I assure you, of course, that I spent a great deal of time berating Dumbledore for his choice. Muggles should never be allowed to raise wizard children, and you serve as a prime example of that principle. But do you mean to say that Hogwarts no longer even teaches its students to observe the traditions of our kind? I thought it was a required course."
"I'm sorry to have to tell you that it's not anymore," Harry muttered. "It's not even an elective."
"Another thing I shall have to speak to Dumbledore about, then. Now, let's move on to the main point. Were you sincere in your pledge to defend and bring honour to the family?"
"Of course I was!" Harry answered hotly. "I don't swear things that I don't mean."
"Then you see why I cannot permit you to wed the current Heir of Slytherin."
"What?!?" Harry screamed. "I will defend and honour our family, but I will not let anyone tell me what I should or shouldn't do! I'm my own person and I can make my own decisions, including who I will or will not marry! Your fight with Salazar was over a thousand years ago, get over it!"
"I am over it!" Godric boomed in reply. "It has nothing to do with Tom Riddle's family. As you know perfectly well, Salazar and I never even fought. The quarrel was between him and my son, and it was mended when my son died. Salazar was my dear friend, and I would love to see our lines united. It has everything to do with Tom Riddle himself; who he is and what he has done. Harry, he murdered your parents! Members of our family! In cold blood, and with no remorse! How can you possibly consider it honourable to marry him?"
"You, along with Dumbledore and everyone on his side, seem to think that my mother and father were completely innocent civilians who had nothing to do with the war. It makes for a better story, after all. The Evil Lord Voldemort killing an innocent family. But the hard truth is that they were not. They were members of a vigilante organization dedicated to fighting him, and in fact had fought against him directly on three separate occasions. I don't even know how many times they fought against, and injured or killed, the members of his army. Lord Voldemort wants the same things you want. He's fighting for the same goals you fought for. And he didn't murder innocent civilians, he killed two enemy soldiers to protect what he believes is right."
Godric's frown grew deeper. "Even if I were to accept that argument, he attempted to kill you as well. And you were a total innocent! You were a babe in your cradle, not an enemy soldier!"
Harry knew this wasn't the smartest thing to say, but he couldn't help himself. "Well, if I marry him, he won't ever be able to try that again. And he's the strongest wizard alive, so he'll be able to make sure no one else can, either. What better way to protect what's left of the family?"
Godric jumped out of his chair, the vein in his forehead pulsing angrily. "How can you be so flippant? Does the family's honour mean so little to you?"
Harry replied softly, "Does it mean so much to you that it's worth more than the family's existence? Does it mean more to you than my life?"
"You are not a weak wizard. You do not need to slink on your stomach to your parents' murderer just to save your own skin," Godric snarled.
"Grandfather, if I were to refuse Tom now, I would effectively be declaring myself against him. He would once again consider me his enemy. And though I may have the potential to one day be just as strong as he is, I'm 16 years old. I'm not even an adult yet. I'm not even close to being his equal. If I refuse him, he will kill me. But that is not why I'm marrying him."
"Then why?" Godric snapped.
Harry couldn't stop a small smile. "The basic reason that anyone marries anyone else. I love him. And you can't love part of a person. You either love what's bad and good about a person, or you don't love them at all. I know Tom better than anyone else. He is cruel, and ruthless, and power-hungry. But he is also strong, focused, beyond brilliant, charismatic, witty, and cunning. He is willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish his goals. And I love all of that."
Godric looked pained, but actually considered Harry's words. After several moments, he sighed, and said, "You say you love him, in spite of everything, and perhaps you speak the truth. And I would not see our family perish if it were within my power to prevent it. So I offer you this deal, young Heir: On the day you can prove to me that Lord Voldemort loves you, I will give you both my blessing to wed."
With those words, the spirit of Godric disappeared, and Harry was left to gape in stunned silence at the Hat resting once again on the seat of the chair.
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The Dark Lord's anger was terrible to behold. Curses in a multitude of languages had been flowing from his mouth for two hours, and he had yet to repeat himself. Walls had been blasted apart, priceless heirlooms smashed beyond any hope of recognition, let alone repair, and even Nagini was making herself scarce. The Death Eaters were very lucky they had all been dismissed long ago, else at least one of them would have been torturted into insanity.
How could he, Lord Voldemort, have been so stupid?
He had settled down to re-read the Consort ritual that evening. And there, staring him right in the face, was the sentence that he could not believe he had forgotten...
"Firstly, thee and thy submissive partner must come to the ritual freely, of thine own will."
It was obvious. It was beyond obvious. This particular ritual was not Dark magic; of course it required the uncoerced consent of the parties. Rituals that created a bond without consent could only create slave bonds, not true partnerships. It was a basic principal of ritual magic.
What was he to do now? He could create a slave bond, but such things robbed the victim of any spirit, individuality, and ability to act or think independently. They would do exactly as their Master explicitly told them to do, nothing more and nothing less. They were not capable of any highly complex tasks, which included casting magic. If he did that, Harry--Potter, he reminded himself--would no longer really be Ha--Potter. It could be amusing for a while to have Potter in such a state, but tormenting a victim who had lost all ability to respond, or even understand their circumstances quickly grew boring. It wouldn't be worth the effort.
Could it be possible, maybe, that Harry might...no, he killed that thought before any feeling of hope could rise. Potter's feelings were entirely due to the potion. Once Potter had the antidote, he would return to his previous animosity. He would never agree to the ritual of his own true free will. Never had he imagined having a Consort, since he thought he would never find someone so strong, so beautiful, so intelligent, so stubborn, so, well, perfect. And now that he had found the closest person to his equal that he would ever find, and almost had a perfect Consort to stand by his side, he realized that the chance had always been illusory. The ritual could not succeed without Potter's true and free consent, and Potter would never give his true and free consent.
Well, if his dreams were to be smashed, at least he could wreak his vengeance on the stupid boy! He would return to the original plan. He would use Potter one more time, in a truly spectacular manner. Then he would give the worthless wretch the antidote, and watch as his face fell, his heart broke, and his world fell down around him.
As he formulated the details of his new plan, he steadfastly ignored the growing pain in his chest, and fiercely repressed the feelings of terrible loss...
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Hermione has struck again. As a Hogwarts professor, she wanted students to have more educational opportunities outside of school. So she founded a club called *Take Initiative To Study.* Donations go to support educational extracurricular activities (field trips to museums, zoos, and the like, guest speakers coming to talk about their careers, lectures on the latest discoveries in various fields, etc).
If you leave a review, five sickles will be donated to this wonderful organization in your name. Think of the children. Won't somebody please think of the children?