Chapter 5: About friends and foes - How to use time
Books : Harry Potter
Rating : M
Pairing : Unknown (for you, that is)
Status : Incomplete
Words : 11 177
Chapter : 5
Disclaimer : Same as before – I do not own Harry Potter. I only own the beautiful magical creatures, people from other times and all the others whom you do not know about when you've only read J.'s books.
Author's note : I had said that this chapter would be an explanatory one. Well, I changed my mind. Honestly, I felt it would be much easier to understand the different and miscellaneous rules of the vampire world and the relationships between the characters if I developed it in one go. However, I now think it would be more natural for the flow of the story to explain it bits by bits as the characters themselves deliver their thoughts and answer questions.
"Time is free, but it's priceless. You can't own it, but you can use it. You can't keep it, but you can spend it. Once you've lost it, you can never get it back"
- Harvey Mc Kay.
9 November 1964. Ravenclaws' Dorms. 11.30 pm
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Harry closed his eyes in a deliberately slow motion. He could feel the tip of his eyelashes tentatively brush against his cheeks before settling down. He wondered if tears would fall from his eyes down to his chin and neck.
Only eerie silence.
He rolled on his side and squirmed a bit to make himself more comfortable. The blanket was much appreciated in the cold night. Being a magical creature did not mean that you lived in the woods, stark-naked and oblivious to the cold or the heat.
He could not help but reminisce about Vapula. The woman he had come to admire the most. The one who understood him best. Perhaps even better than Aïon and Vladimir. The memory of the female laying on the bed, crippled and smiling, kept replaying in his mind.
Someone once said that memories always come back to haunt you. The wizard now experienced it firsthand. And it was all the more poignant as time travel seemed to make memories surface easier.
Dwelling on Vapula's long hair, his thoughts led him to Aïon. He unconsciously fingered the pendant he had been given by his lover. The onyx pendant seemed to radiate heat as he retraced the outlines of the small tiger. His heart throbbed and he clenched the ornament tightly in his fist.
"Come back soon, Aïon" he whispered
The words lingered in the air before fading. The wizard inhaled sharply, the cold air filling his lungs and briefly making the back of his throat itch. The nights at the Lair too were usually cold during winter. He felt miserable. Everything he did, everything he saw or heard always reminded him, one way or the other, of the Lair. It seemed to him as though he was wallowing in self-despair and clutching onto memories that should be pushed aside.
"Memories…" he whispered to no one.
His breath drew out a small white cloud which floated in the air for a few seconds before dissipating. He tossed around, unable to find some peace of mind. If he closed his eyes, he knew he would dream of Aïon or the "Fates", as Vlad had called the woman. He was afraid to do so. He did not know what awaited him. Vlad had warned him that the Fates would severely retaliate for being defied, but he did not know the full extent of what this punishment could be. And if there was one thing he had learnt from constantly being in danger since his birth, it was that no one should be underestimated, especially when unknown.
A slight rustling of bed sheets echoed in the dorms. Harry was ready to put on some privacy spells when a whisper made him turn his head toward the nearest bed.
"You awake, Harry?"
"What is it, Theophile?" Harry replied in a low whisper.
A pause ensued and Harry fleetingly wondered if Theophile had heard him. After living with vampires, he was used to talking in a low voice. However, a slow but direct answer proved him wrong.
"Where have you been?"
Harry fully turned around. Discerning the outline of the other boy's form was not enough. He needed to see his face. To feel. To know. Vivid green eyes stared at brown ones. Theophile could not see him in the darkness, but Aïon's blood enabled Harry to see in the dark. As if sensing the relentless and scrutinizing focus, Theophile fidgeted. The dark-haired wizard could not see anything but mere curiosity in the other boy's eyes.
"I was outside" That was not a lie but there had been better and less vague answers…
"I can see that" There was no malice, no irony whatsoever in Theophile's tone. Harry assumed that the boy understood his wish not to disclose his secrets. Everyone had their own secrets.
"Were you outside of the castle?" Theophile added.
Apparently, Harry had been wrong. The boy did not understand that certain things were better left unsaid. He refused to answer to this question and did so. The other Ravenclaw was more tenacious than he originally thought because he blurted out words that left the time-traveller wary.
"Yesterday night, I was awake. I heard you….and that man."
When he received no response, Theophile plucked up the courage to ask a last question.
"Were you with that man? The…vampire?"
The confrontation was unavoidable and Harry quickly closed then reopened his eyes. He took a deep breath and got out of the bed as calmly as possible. He neared Theophile's bed and crouched to be at face-level with the boy.
"Do not whisper a single word of what you saw or heard last night" he simply whispered.
Theophile all but shivered. Was it from the cold or out of fear? He himself did not know. He slowly nodded and wondered if the new student was going to harm him. As if reading his thoughts, Harry spoke up.
"Take an oath" he ordered.
Hesitantly, Theophile extended his hand. He had never taken any oath before. He had seen his father take one before, but that had been a long time ago. He did not know how to proceed. His ignorance would not be a problem, he knew, because the other boy would ensure that everything would be perfectly done.
Cold, thin fingers wrapped around his wrist, encasing his hand in a strong though not painful grip. No wand was drawn out, no word uttered. And still, a golden frail-looking thread circled their wrists. Theophile wondered if Harry had really cast wandless, wordless magic. Deciding that it did not really matter, he shrugged and patiently waited for the instructions.
"Swear that you will not disclose any piece of information of any sort concerning what you saw, what you heard and what you said both yesterday night and tonight"
"I swear that I will not disclose any piece of information of any sort concerning what I saw, what I heard and what I said both yesterday night and tonight" Theophile repeated in a decided, serious manner.
The thread seemed to glow a bit brighter, then vanished. Small specks of gold seemed to have imprinted themselves on the cornea of Theophile for he could almost see them dissolving in the air. Or perhaps, the thread was really fading bits by bits, and Harry could see it too. The situation seemed so surreal that Theophile could not discern what was true and what was the product of his imagination any longer. But deep down, he knew that everything had been true, real, palpable, there.
He felt, more than saw Harry retreat back to his bed. The two boys exchanged no more words, each facing the ceiling, lost in their thoughts. And the light snores of the twins echoed in the room, as if to mock the darkness that seemed to hover around the two boys who had just agreed to leave some things unexplained and unsaid.
10 November 1964. Voldemort's Headquarters. Somewhere in the UK.
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"Bring the summoned students here" Voldemort drawled.
Orion Black bowed down and immediately complied, scurrying over to the massive door. He opened it with deliberate deference and beckoned the young wizards. He spotted his son among the small crowd but did not acknowledge his presence whatsoever, instead veering his head back towards the lithe but daunting figure of the Dark Lord.
The girls and the boys slowly stepped in the vast room and gingerly headed towards their Lord. One by one, they bowed down as they passed by him and stood still in row as though they were soldiers. Voldemort could not help but let out a pleased smirk as he took in the scene. So young and yet so obedient.
His stare immediately focused on Lucius Malfoy who had been the one to provide the most useful information last time.
"Lucius Malfoy, have you gathered more information on the new student?" he asked
"I am afraid I could not, my Lord" The young Malfoy replied, keeping his eyes strained on the floor, obviously tense at the idea of the potential punishment he could be subjected to.
"And why is that?" his interlocutor replied in a sickeningly low voice that intended to be sweet though it was threatening all the same.
"Harry Evans has not done anything peculiar these last days. Furthermore, his performances in class seem to be quite modest, my Lord. However, he seems to be doing quite fine in Potions, a class which I am attending together with him. He has paired with Severus Snape, my Lord, and the two of them seem to be in good terms"
Voldemort looked thoughtful as he squinted his eyes at the young blonde. His follower did not seem to have noticed, but this last piece of information was important. His hand was feeling a bit itchy and he suddenly felt the urge to use it. Instinctively, he pointed his wand at the young Slytherin and snarled what had become a daily word to him.
"Crucio"
He watched with dispassionate eyes the blonde struggle against the pain before giving out and writhing on the floor. He stopped the spell with a light flicker of the fingers and signaled him to get up immediately.
"And who are you to deem these performances of his modest, Lucius Malfoy? Should I remind you the boy has vampire blood, which could prove to be more useful than you being quarter Veela ?"
"It has been my mistake, my Lord. Please excuse me this time. I shall not repeat the same mistake twice. Of course, I seem to have overestimated the importance of my word in this" Lucius's voice was slightly shaking due to the lingering pain that coursed throughout his body, but he remained steady on his feet.
"It is not that you seem to have overestimated your worth, you actually have, Lucius Malfoy. Do not disappoint me next time" he bit back in a sharp and condescending tone.
"Of course, my Lord" Lucius bowed for what seemed to him the umpteenth time.
The dark Lord's lips curled downwards in a condescending sneer. Lucius Malfoy was loyal, eager to show his devotion, strong, brilliant and well-bred, but he sometimes lacked common sense. A follower, however brilliant he may be, is to listen to his Lord and never assume on his own. Lucius Malfoy was not there to display his brains. Voldemort supposed it was what people called the eagerness of youth, but he preferred to tame it rather than let it pass. It would not do well if that Lucius Malfoy kept that vice.
He wordlessly motioned the youngest Malfoy to get back into the ranks. The blonde boy bowed and walked backwards with as much grace as he could mustered, still feeling the effects of the Cruciatus curse.
"I want you to monitor each and every move of both that student and Severus Snape. From what I heard, Severus Snape could be useful due to his skills in potions. Is that true, Lucius?"
"Yes, my Lord" Lucius immediately replied. His voice was still trembling, though it was nearly unnoticeable, but it was enough for Regulus to cast a quick worried glance at his friend.
"And why is it that neither you, nor you, Regulus, reported on this specific detail?" The voice was warm and the tone, sweet but they all knew better. The underlying anger was showing through.
"Forgive me, my Lord. Severus Snape is good at making Potions, indeed. However, he has not any other skill, nor has he expressed the wish to be one of us" Regulus stepped forward.
"Forgive you?" Lord Voldemort could almost have laughed. A flash of deep red flit across his eyes as the simmering fury finally started to fully show through.
"Forgive you?" he repeated, "Do not test my patience, Regulus Black. Did you think you could make me forget of Lucius Malfoy's presence? He is as much a failure as you. Stepping forward will not help you save your friend of another punishment"
A sick and twisted smirk settled on his handsome face as he lifted his wand in a deceivingly dismissive movement. Orion Black watched, completely mesmerized by his master's power, as the dark Lord cast the Cruciatus curse on Lucius Malfoy and Orion's own son, Regulus. Relentlessly focusing on the dark Lord, Orion Black did not feel an ounce of guilt, nor did he feel any paternal desire to protect his son and take the curse upon himself. He had chosen his side since long. He did not belong to his wife, he did not belong to his son. He did not belong to his family. He did not even belong to himself. He belonged to the dark Lord. Body and soul, magic and physical force, all of himself had been given to the dark Lord the day he had accepted to be branded.
Branded. Like an animal. It did not matter that others thought of him as a shameless follower deprived of dignity and freedom.
For Orion Black, the dark Lord was a salvation. The shepherd who would lead him to glory and true freedom.
He almost revelled in seeing his son writhe in pain. He could see his son's suffering, feel it, taste it. Fear could almost be smelt. And still, only pride and joy surged through his whole being. Instinctively, he searched for his Lord's magic. As he was reaching the almost palpable dark tendrils of the Dark Lord's magic, Lord Voldemort broke the curse and his magic withdrew.
"I want you both to keep a close eye on the two boys"
"Yes, my Lord" Lucius and Regulus chorused with great effort.
"My Lord, if I may speak up" Agatha intervened.
Lord Voldemort stared at her in a disquieting and cold manner. He finally motioned her to speak up. Agatha then straightened her back, still respectful as her eyes focused on the robes of her Lord and not on his face. Her voice spread in the vast room, clear and melodious though her way of uttering the words was harsh on the ears.
"I attend DADA classes along with the new student, Harry Evans. I have witnessed a peculiar scene. The new student's magic briefly lashed out. It was unintentional, but I could feel it. May I say, my Lord, that Harry Evan appears to be quite powerful. However, he seems to be hiding his powers and he does not display his magic. If I may ask you, my Lord, I think that I could help Lucius and Regulus in their monitoring of Harry Evans".
She kept her eyes trained on the ground as she waited for the answer. She could her own breathing and suddenly wondered if the Lord could hear it too. Could he tell that she was scared? However, she quickly dismissed the thought. She needed to be fully focused on the present situation. No day-dreaming.
And soon enough, the cold and harsh voice of Lord Voldemort brought her back to reality.
"Although I am pleased with what you have just reported to me, it seems that Lucius Malfoy's cheekiness has rubbed off on you, Agatha Nott. You are not the one in charge, and if someone decides whether or not you can help Lucius and Regulus in their task, it will be me, not you"
Immediately, Agatha knew what to expect and braced herself. But the Crucio never came. Her surprise almost made her jerk her head up and she barely refrained herself from doing so.
"Do not make that mistake again, Agatha Nott. I only let this mistake pass because your report was useful" Voldemort warned her.
"Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord" She bowed and stepped back into the ranks.
Although she had been fully prepared to endure a Cruciatus curse, what followed had not been expected.
"Legilimens"
Without being warned, she felt her whole body shake with fear and anger. Anger because it was an invasion. Fear because she could feel the power. Instinctively, her mind tried to erect shields, to fight back against the intrusion. She willed herself to back down although it proved to be difficult.
Lord Voldemort flitted from one memory to another. He was not being completely brutal, but he was not particularly careful. He did not want to damage the sanity of a follower, but he also saw no need to treat the girl as a fragile, precious thing. Upon finding what he sought, he dived in the memory.
The boy was there.
….
Knowledgeable. Very knowledgeable. How many books were there on this particular use of the Patronus? Did he himself use the Patronus to send messages?
….
Magic. Such powerful magic. So alluring. Definitely felt it.
…
Liar. You did not cast the Patronus.
…
Prey.
The young girl was panting, heavy puffs of breath passing through her bleeding lips and exhaustion was clearly written across her face. Voldemort paid her no attention. She would recover in time. If she didn't, he had no need for her. No need for the weak. What was most important was the boy. He had felt it through Agatha Nott's memory. The power.
Such power would be dangerous if in the hands of Dumbledore. But in his own hands, what could it become? The boy had a magic as powerful as the darkest families' heirs such as Regulus Black or Lucius Malfoy, although he would never tell the two boys this fact. He found them already quite arrogant and saw no need to aggravate this particular trait of theirs.
What was peculiar was the boy's need to hide his power. Why would he do so? Because he had vampire blood ? His reasons seemed more complex than that.
Eventually, Lord Voldemort would obtain this wizard, win him to his cause. It was crucial to make him join the dark Lord. Each and every skilled wizard counted in a war. Every king needed an army of pawns to protect him with their lives.
However, a niggling doubt kept echoing in his thoughts. Where had he already felt this particular magic?
10 November 1964. Hogwarts. Dungeons. Potions' class.
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"Hey there" Harry called out Severus as he settled down on his chair.
"Hello" Severus blandly replied in a quiet voice.
The two boys shared a knowing look and looked over to the blackboard where instructions had been written beforehand.
Fides. A potion which ensured the loyalty of whoever drank it. It was a high-level potion as its preparation required not only carefully chosen ingredients but also a very detailed and precise brewing.
"Sliced Dragon scales, belladonna powder, dew drops, crushed Unicorn's hair, aquamarine powder, sliced snake's skin…I'll go and get the ingredients" Harry told Severus before going up to the cupboard next to the front desk.
Severus imperceptibly nodded and began to set up all the tools that would be needed. He eyed with a critical look the sharpness of the knife and let out a mild frown upon seeing that it was not to his liking.
Unbeknownst to him, Lucius observed him from behind and wondered what had happened between the two quiet, withdrawn boys. Since his confrontation with the new student in the Slytherins' dorms, he had not been able to talk with Severus. What had prompted such a warm acceptance on Severus's part ? What was so special about Harry Evans ?
Was it that Severus longed for company and Harry Evans had been the first one to extend his hand ? Was it because Harry Evans did not seem to care about what people thought of Severus ? Was it Harry Evans's surprising ability to understand Severus's train of thought ?
Miscellaneous questions swirled round and round in the Malfoy heir's mind, and none of them could be answered to with the few information he had as of now.
Still discreet in his observation, Lucius watched as Harry came back with all the ingredients. The Ravenclaw put them on the table and immediately began to slice the dragon scales after handing out the dried belladonna to Severus so he could crush it into powder. The two boys set out to work in silence, their movements precise and effective although one could see how much more skilled Severus obviously was. While Harry's good work in Potions was due to his being conscientious and detailed, Severus worked with as much carefulness but also with inborn intuition and creativity that only a potion genius could achieve.
Soon enough, all the ingredients were perfectly prepared and the duo had begun to put the dew drops and the belladonna powder in the cauldron. Lucius had absent-mindedly sliced the dragon scales while observing the two, but he knew he could rely on Regulus who, indeed, was doing all the work.
Curtis Jacobson walked by them, eyeing with an approving nod the preparations. If he ever noticed Lucius's obvious lack of motivation, he said nothing. As he passed by Harry and Severus, he came to a halt and positively beamed.
"Ah ! Once again, good work !"
Severus did not even bother looking up, and Harry dispassionately stared at his teacher.
"Thank you, sir" he replied in a soft voice.
The small smile could have passed for a genuine one, were it not for the jaded eyes that accompanied it. However, Mr Jacobson did not seem to notice it and flashed back a smile of his own.
Severus had not been fooled by that little act of Harry's. But he had already learnt that the new student was a riddle that would not be easy to figure out. Not that he wanted to, mind you. He knew how to preserve others' privacy. After all, he himself liked to have his own little secrets. People without secrets were always so much more boring. Harry Evans was definitely not one of those predictable, plain, uninteresting people like James Potter.
"You seem rather talented at Potions, Harry. How about studying with me ? I think we could form an efficient studying group" Lucius asked out of the blue, earning him a raised eyebrow on Regulus's part and a blank stare from Harry who returned his attention to his potion as quickly as he had turned around.
"Are we friends, Lucius Malfoy ? I would rather have you calling me by my last name, please" Harry replied in a carefully neutral tone.
If his attention had been drawn to the blonde, he quickly resumed his potion-making and scrutinized the bubbling liquid, trying to find any potential fault in it. However, Malfoys did not take kindly to being ignored, and Lucius immediately made it known to the brunette as he called out to him once again.
" You are right. We are not friends. Not yet, at least. I would like it very much if you could help me in Potions, Harry Evans. Think of it as a tutoring. I can also tutor you in another subject if you want, as a payback" Lucius sweetly said.
Severus tried not to show his displeasure. Harry Evans was the only one who cared enough -or so Severus liked to think, since it was hard to know what exactly Harry thought and felt- not to give a damn about what others said about "the greasy git Snivellus". Hell, if he would hand him over to Lucius !
"I am trying not to spoil the potion, Lucius Malfoy and I would immensely appreciate it, if you did not disturb me with your chatter. I am not inclined to tutoring you, nor befriending you" Harry replied in that same bland and dispassionate voice of his.
Jaw clenched and eyes blazing, Lucius Malfoy looked nothing but irked. Regulus thought that if looks could kill, Harry Evans would be long since dead, burnt to the core, brain crushed, limbs bloodied and mouth open in a silent scream.
On the other hand, the Black heir did not fail to notice Severus's obvious relief at his…friend's - or whatever Harry Evans could be called - answer. Possessive much ? Regulus thought with a sneer. The black sheep better enjoy his only friend while he still could…No one escaped the clutches of Lucius Malfoy, and Harry Evans was not going to be an exception. Soon, Severus Snape would go back to his boring, black and white life.
As soon as the lesson ended, Severus and Harry headed to the library since neither of them had classes till the end of the day. However, they soon found their path being blocked by Regulus who kept his eyes trained on Harry.
"Would you like to join us in the Slytherins' common room?" the Black heir asked in a tone he carefully kept neutral.
"Direct confrontation…not really what I would have expected from a Slytherin like you, Regulus Black" Harry replied.
Regulus said nothing but he shot a knowing look over the two boys' shoulders, and Harry understood that Lucius Malfoy was just behind them. They were perfectly cornered. Like animals.
He shot a quick look over to Severus and that was the only warning the quiet boy received before he was yanked forward by Harry. In a blur of colours, Harry threw his elbow in Regulus's stomach and rapidly ran away with Severus in tow.
Physical handling was not something he liked to resort to, but if needed, he was perfectly able to get out of tricky situations. He gripped Severus's hand, not caring if his hold was too tight, turned left twice, then right. He put his palm on the base of a statue that stood there, and applied a slight push on it. The stone on which the statue had been placed moved backwards while elevating itself by two inches.
Severus watched, fascinated, as a small staircase appeared. He let himself be yanked downstairs by the Ravenclaw, unable to think calmly. He heard the opening close behind them and a quick Lumos coming from Harry let Severus agape. Now that there was light, the Potion prodigy could see that what he had thought of as a small corridor was in fact one of the many alleys that ran through the castle's underground.
"That's a -"
"An underground Hogwarts. Yes" Harry replied, a smug smirk playing on his lips.
"How come we don't – I don't know..."
"Secret passages. Useful in wartime. And when you're late too" he added with an amused laugh.
"You're new here. Last time, the kitchens. Now, this. How do you know ?" Severus said suspiciously.
Harry's light steps abruptly came to a stop. He turned around and faced Severus.
Upon seeing his – who was Harry Evans? His friend? – friend..., Severus noticed that the shadows lurking in the eerily green irises seemed more apparent now than before. Maybe it was because they were plunged in a semi-obscurity, Severus could not say.
"You understand better than anyone that secrets are what makes a man" Harry said.
The words were simple, the sentence short, the voice steady, and the warning perfectly clear. Severus lost himself in the shape of the thin lips that had just uttered those words, in the colour of the glimmering eyes that stared at him, in the curve of the jaw that was deliciously tightened in an effort not to snap at him.
"That's true" the pale dark-haired boy replied in a whisper.
Harry let out a rare smile. Genuine. And Severus almost thought he had imagined it for it disappeared as quickly as it had bloomed on the usually stony face.
"Let's go. We should reach the Ravenclaw dorms soon"
10 November 1964. Hogwarts. Ravenclaws' dorms.
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As soon as Harry's companion stepped in, all heads swiveled towards the duo and conversations ceased at once. An eerie and gloomy silence settled itself in the room and the crackling of the logs in the fire could distinctly be heard.
"Come with me. It's over here" Harry gestured over to the door of the room he shared with the three other boys, as if he had not noticed the blatant discomfort of the Ravenclaws.
"What is he doing here?" a girl speaked up before Severus could take a step.
The quiet boy turned his green eyes towards her, though not really looking at her. Cocking his head to the side ever so slightly, his voice echoed in the deceptively empty air.
"Ravenclaws know better than to discriminate"
"He is unwanted here" another boy replied.
"I want him here" Harry seethed.
At that moment, Elena felt the need to step in. She somehow knew that she had to lest he took out his anger on his Ravenclaw fellows.
"Harry is right. We should let him in. Now, go back to what you were doing and behave like Ravenclaws do" she urged them.
They looked over at her, sending dubious stares, but resumed their activities nonetheless. They accepted her authority as such. Being a Prefect was not all about deducting points and explaining the rules. It was also a matter of trust and friendly, but firm power.
The two boys walked away and Elena was left staring at a plain, cold, big door. So much for helping out Harry... A tiny smile, a sad smile tinted with a sliver of joy and resignation made its way on her face and she sighed. She needed to pluck up all her courage and patience if she wanted to become closer with him.
On the other side of the door, Harry invited Severus to come and sit on the bed. Hesitantly, the other boy did so and watched as the Ravenclaw bent over to retrieve a small object from under his bed.
A quick flick of the wrist and Severus was now looking at a heavy-looking, huge trunk. Harry opened it and rummaged through what could truly be defined as a small library.
"Ah! Here it is!" Harry stood up straight and held out high a thick, leather-bound book.
Severus shot him a questioning look and the Ravenclaw only smirked before he threw him the book. Severus barely caught it with a clumsy move. His hands enclosed around the book, touching it, caressing it. "The secrets of ingredients" the title said.
"Seems interesting" he whispered.
"All yours"
At those words, Severus's head shot up. Round eyes full with incredulity and soon-to-be joy landed on the lithe Ravenclaw.
"I've already read it quite a few times. I am not particularly fond of Potions. Therefore, it seemed natural to give it to someone who appreciates this art"
Severus could not think of anything to say. "It's too much" - "I can't" - "Why?" - "Thank you so much!" - "You shouldn't"...all these words seemed to become one in his mind, the letters and the souds mingling together until nothing was left but a blurry mass. Sputtering like a commoner would not do. Not that he was royalty, but he had a strong sense of dignity.
So he settled for the only option left.
"It seems like a really great book"
Cold, very Slytherin-like indifference. And still, gratitude showed in his words. His whole being was bathing in childlike excitement and deep gratitude.
"Sure. You'll like it, I promise" Harry chuckled, not fooled by Severus's poor act.
A silence settled between the two boys, neither of them uncomfortable with it. Harry went on his bed, laying on his stomach, and watched under half-closed eyelids as Severus carefully, almost reverentially opened the book.
A crack was heard as the leather cover was suddenly folded after having been left unused for a long time. The pages released an old fragrance, a mix between humidity and dust, ancient potions and sunshine.
The properties of the Belladonna. The properties of the Mandrake. The advantages of plucking up herbs during a full moon. The dangers of -
"Put the book under the pillow" Harry interrupted his thoughts.
Glancing at his companion, Severus obeyed although he did not understand what could have caused such a strange command. Soon enough, the door opened and what could only be Harry's roommates stepped in.
"Harry ! 's it true tha' you came with a Slyth' ?" Alexis almost pounced on him, were it not for Alastor's strong grip and the quick reflexes of Harry who stepped away.
Wordlessly Harry pointed at Severus with his thumb.
"Woa ! 'N it's the black sheep!" Alexis exclaimed.
None of the boys flinched upon hearing the horrendous nickname. Severus only lowered his head and stared at his feet.
"How come you're speaking with such a heavy accent?" Harry asked without a care.
"His accent resurfaces only when he's really very excited" Alastor explained with a forgiving and fond smile.
"Hm" Then, turning his head towards Severus - "Severus, meet Alastor and Alexis".
" 'm so excited ! I've neva' seen you before ! I mean...not so close!" Alexis shrieked while stepping closer to Severus who seemed like a frightened rabbit.
Hilarious picture if Harry really thought about it. Who could tell the Severus Snape from now, a boy afraid of a hyperactive and overemotional Ravenclaw, would become the Dungeon Bat ?
04 January, 1991. The Burrow. 01.15 pm
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Two weeks. Two long weeks filled with anguish. On December 24, they had gone to the Lair, using the Portkey Harry had offered them a long time ago.
They had only found cold and empty rooms. Laying on the desk was a letter. Crumpled and torn at the corners, obviously having been crushed many times in a iron fist.
And waiting for them in a dark corner of the throne room was Alecto. Eyes glimmering and lips furled over feral teeth, she had prowled over them, obviously delighted upon seeing them. Fresh meat.
They had heard about her craziness from Harry. He had warned them not to get too close to her. To flee. That's what they had done. But her last words, before they had vanished in a blur of colors and sweet smells, tugged forward by the Portkey, were still echoing in their minds.
" Little Prince has gone to die somewhere he doesn't belong to !"
Since then, they had rummaged through every available book in their house. Each and every ritual, potion, spell...they had studied everything. And they had yet to understand what was going on.
Fred sighed as George closed down one of the miscellaneous books that they had flipped through. Another book that proved to be everything but useful. The twins briefly looked at each other and simultaneously flopped down on the bed. Their reddish strands of hair mingled, a perfect union between two sides of the same colour.
George rolled on his stomach and buried his nose in the sheets, closing his eyes that were red with tiredness. Fred extended a hand to pat him on the back. Silently, the words were clearly uttered through their fraternal bond which only them had ever understood.
We'll find him.
They fell asleep and did not wake up when their mother called them for dinner. Molly Weasley climbed up the stairs and knocked on the door, only to be met with silence. She shrugged and carefully opened the door, stepping in the bedroom. Her two sons were holding each other's hand, deeply asleep.
"Dōð gē wīllan tō cunnan ?" [Do you wish to know?]
"Who is it ?" Two voices echoed in nothingness.
"Mīn bearn bið Dryhten. Magon gē helpan mē ?" [My child will be a Prince. Will you help me?]
"Who … Harry ?"
"Ah... Mīn bearn... Gē sculon munan. Helpaþ þisne bearn !" [Ah...My child...You must remember. Help this child !]
"We don't know who you are -"
"Just tell us if you know anything -"
"Anything about Harry -"
"Tell us, please !"
"Cumaþ ..." [Come...]
When the Weasley matriarch set foot in her kitchen, her youngest son was eyeing with hunger the food. She glanced at him disapprovingly and sat down at the table.
"Are George and Fred coming yet or not?" Ron complained, whining like a child.
"George? Fred?" Molly shared a look with her husband and turned to look at her son.
As if suddenly waking up from a disquieting and eerie dream, Ron shivered. His head felt fuzzy, he couldn't quite think right. He shrugged it off and stared at his parents.
"Who's that?" he inquired, shoving a mouthful of potatoes in his mouth.
"But...you're the one who just mentioned them" his father pointed out.
"No, I didn't" Ron replied uncaringly.
Molly and Arthur Weasley frowned and let it go, putting some potatoes in their plates. Percy would not be able to come home and eat, since he had a lot of work at the Ministry. Bill was away in Bulgaria. Ginny had gone shopping in Diagon Alley with another female student.
They stared lovingly at the only child who had stayed at home. Ron was a real sweetie sometimes, Molly thought with a joyful sigh.
On the wall, the clock ticked a regular beat, the photographs of Molly, Arthur and Ron set on "at home" while the pictures of the Percy, Bill and Ginny were on "Outside".
10-11 November, 1964. Hogwarts. Forbidden Forest.
‡ ‡
"Vlad!" Harry whispered.
The tall, dark form turned around, revealing slanted sea-green eyes. A small smile made its way on the vampire's face as he watched the young man come his way.
"Here you are, Eliel"
"Any news from Aïon ?" the hopeful tone in the wizard's voice did not escape Vladimir's attention.
He slightly shook his head. "No. I told you he would only come back in a year. You have to be patient and wait."
"Then why did you call me here?" Harry scowled. Vladimir chuckled and ruffled his hair. He sometimes forgot how childlike the young man could be. After all, compared to a 737 year old vampire, Harry was so much younger.
"I found your parents" the vampire replied sternly.
The widening of the eyes and the slight scowl were easily noticeable to Vladimir's well-trained eyes. Family was a touchy matter for the young wizard, what with all the lies surrounding his whole life.
However, the young man's answer was uttered in a soft and melancholic breathe.
"Where?"
"In an ancient and sacred forest 520 miles away from here"
"It's not very far..." Harry noticed with a pensive look, an uneasy frown settling on his brow.
"That would explain how Dumbledore came to know them" Vladimir acquiesced
The young wizard tilted his head to the side, as if his thoughts were burdening him, his glassy eyes gazing at nothingness, at something only he could discern between the dark green leaves of the trees. As if controlled by a puppeteer , he suddenly lifted his head in a shaky, abrupt motion and stared straight in the eyes of his older companion.
At this moment, the movement of his neck caught Vladimir's eyes. The wizard's neck was slender and its pale skin seemed almost sickly white without hues of warm-salmon pink, seemingly ready to break in a loud crack.
"When are we going?" Harry asked with a small smirk.
"Now" Vladimir replied with a grin of his own.
Harry took Vladimir's hand and squeezed it. It was him telling the vampire that he was ready to leave. But it was also something deeper, something undefinable, something that was there … almost there - not quite - and yet, so palpable. It was a sign of trust, of complete, limitless trust and a way to search for comfort in the older man's presence.
Vladimir clutched back the smaller hand in his own and that was the final warning before the two figures vanished in a swirl of murky grey clouds.
10-11 November, 1964. Unknown Forest. 520 miles away from Hogwarts.
They landed in a forest that was nothing like Hogwarts's Forbidden Forest. Harry's keen senses immediately caught the absolute pureness of the air – a distinct feature of all creatures' environments. The next detail which he noticed was the eerie stillness of the scenery. It was all it took for him to start removing his shirt, exposing a stark black symbol on his back, between his shoulders.
"Do you really need to do this ?" Vladimir asked with a tone of worry lacing his words, forcing himself not to stare at the pale skin.
"Of course. They'll soon be here and they won't hesitate to – err...rough us up a bit before taking us to my – their …. well, to the Royals" Harry answered, a bitter-sweet smile settling on his face as he uttered the very last words.
And true enough, they did not have to wait long before a group of men of women appeared all around them, encircling them as if to trap a wild beast.
"You are trespassing on our sacred grounds" a man who appeared to be the leader of this small group said.
Behind the two time travellers, the stern men gasped and shot a worried glance at the leader. Harry smirked under the warm eyes of the vampire.
"He's a vampire" A woman spoke up, her nose wrinkling in distaste. Her eyes held as much contempt as her voice as she glanced at Vladimir.
"Our peoples have signed a treaty a long time ago, miss" Vladimir shot back with an amused glance at his companion.
"Leader, you've got to see this !" One of the men who had just let their surprise show said, as he gestured his leader to come and see by himself.
A single movement of the head from the leader made him turn around the smaller dark-haired trespasser. His hands were rough due to the position of warrior he held in the tribe, but his grip was soft enough not to bruise the skin. After seeing what was engraved in the skin of the anonymous boy, he did not dare to hurt him.
Upon catching a glance at what had made his men so puzzled, the leader remained silent. Before his very eyes stood proudly the noble and revered mark that only the Royals could have. He shared a quizzical look with his fellow companions and stepped forward until his face was a mere inch away from the boy's.
Deep blue eyes stared in vivid green irises. The leader smirked.
"Indeed, you smell so pure. We should have noticed it earlier, he paused and then – But it is impossible, since our Royals are here, well alive. Besides, your...association – he glanced at the vampire – is quite peculiar, won't you agree ?"
"My association is of no concern to you. If I smell as pure as you said, I request that you bring me to your Royals" Harry replied level-headedly.
"I don't think so" the other man breathed out, a glint of amusement shining dangerously in his irises.
Harry merely cocked a confident and inquisitive eyebrow at him, daring him to challenge the very boy who bore the Royals' mark. The leader did not hesitate, bringing forth a massive swirl of pale green leaves, wanting to trap the intruders inside.
"You need to do better" Vladimir intervened, slashing the leaves with an angry red flame.
The fire annihilated the leaves, leaving only a crisp and deliciously new scent of freshly burnt green behind. Harry's nose twitched ever so slightly. Vladimir took very seriously his protection, and for that he was grateful, but at times like this he also needed to prove that he could handle it on his own. It was not not a matter of pride. It was a matter of self-reassurance. Harry needed to prove to himself that he was not useless, that he was a free being and that he could act as he wished. He needed to know that he existed.
"Incarcere" he lazily uttered, a sly smirk making its way on his features.
Only the leader could avoid the spell. The other elves were brought down to their knees, bound by tight magical ropes which Harry had made sure could not be broken nor burnt. If the creatures' magic was always far stronger than that of the wizards, creatures also had the habit to underestimate the wizards' spells and Harry had quickly learnt to take advantage of this flaw. The majority of Elves, as many other creatures, were unprepared against an accomplished wizard, no matter what spells he used. They knew not how to react to this distorted, awfully human magic that was so different from theirs which was raw and unadulterated.
Even though the Elves could easily find some way to get rid of these bonds, Harry knew that they would not be able to find the solution so soon. All of them were quite young, even their leader, and the chances of them ever having been in contact with the human world were very slim.
Before the wizard had the time to take care of the leader, Vladimir extended his right hand, palm facing the sky. A small and soft-looking ball of fire burst alive, licking his flesh, until the vampire turned the palm of his hand towards the elf.
The man shot his opponent a contemptuous and disbelieving look. He may be younger than this vampire, but he was not dumb, nor was he untrained. He was one of the best of his generation. He could easily deflect such an attack.
However, what he expected never happened. The ball of fire never came straight at him – in which case, he intended to deflect it with a shield made of water. Instead, it quickly rose in the air until it was above his head. The elf glanced up and was ready to make his shield above, but the unexpected was yet to come.
Dividing into four smaller balls, the fire fell back on the ground, drawing thin lines of fire in the air as it quickly descended. The elf realized his error too late. A cage – a golden cage – had been made and he could not get out of it. No matter which elements he invoked, there seemed to be no flaw in this trap. It was not any kind of fire. It was laced with blood. A typical attack for a powerful vampire and the elf berated himself for being unprepared.
"Well done ! " Harry exclaimed in a happy tone.
His laugh rang through the rustling leaves and the birds seemed not to mind this intruder. Everything was back to normal – before they had set foot on this territory. The forest was alive : the sounds, the smells and even the warmth of the sun – everything was as it should have been moments ago.
And somehow, Harry fleetingly thought it reminded him of something. A deep, warm and ever growing feeling surged from the bottom of his heart, and the boy could almost feel it thump along with his heartbeat, flow along with his blood in his veins, waxing and waning with each breath he took in and out.
11 November, 1964. Lord Voldemort's private quarters. Somewhere in the UK.
‡ ‡
The pale shadows danced on the cold walls as the fire crackled. Every now and then, brushes of light caressed the angular features of Tom Riddle. The handsome man was seated with his long-time friend Nagini lying on his lap.
To an untrained eye, Tom Marvolo Riddle was not the epitome of the calm before the storm... Unmoving in his chair, the wizard was keeping his eyes strained on the floor, obviously thinking.
However, his back too stiff for the man to be at ease, his gaze was too focused not to be a glare, and his breath was too quick.
The man radiated with anger. His whole being was bathed in anger, dark translucent vibes emanating from him, wrapped around his body, pervading the whole room. His eyes were tinted with angry red and his knuckles were white from from clenching his fists too tightly.
The boy from the raid still bothered him.
The words kept on echoing in his head...on and on, he could picture the boy uttering his name with an amused smirk. The image haunted him. And Voldemort, the Dark Lord could not let such a thing bother him. He had a world to conquer, rules to impose. A mere, single boy should not have such an impact on his thoughts – he had to be eradicated. That was the simplest method.
"Goodbye Tom..."
Those words – ! Gritting his teeth, the Dark Lord let out a strangled, muffled hiss. Sensing her owner's distress, Nagini raised her head and flicked her tongue at him, caressing his chin.
"What is wrong, Tom ?"
"Don't call me by that name !" Tom hissed back, the burning red in his irises becoming more and more vivid, spreading to his skin, to his whole body. Anger was coming off of him in waves now, and Nagini could feel it – taste it.
"I have always called you Tom. I knew you when you were Tom so it's Tom" Nagini reasoned him with the few words a snake knew. Simple sentences were all she could do since animals and humans did not have the same vocabulary, nor the same ideas, but Tom always understood her and made sure she could understand him.
Upon receiving no response, Nagini hissed more forcefully, urging him to tell her what was troubling him. She was rewarded with a glare and a stern frown in front of which she refused to falter.
A small chuckle escaped Tom's lips as he reached out to pat the snake. Since his sixth year, Nagini had been his confident, his surrogate mother and perhaps, his only friend. Nothing he did could make her cower in fear.
"There's a boy. He knows my name. My real name"
"He knows your – I forgot again ! … Your id – tent – ..."
"My identity. Yes, he knows"
"That's it – your identity. It's a problem"
"Of course"
Nagini took a moment to observe Tom before speaking up again. "Kill him"
"I was thinking about it. But I do not know who he is"
"Ask"
"I did. The other students do not know either"
"Wait. He will come. Snakes wait when there is a treat we want. Hunting takes energy. We wait. When the treat is near we bite and eat."
"I know. But for that, I need to know who … the treat is"
"No worries" Nagini shot him a serious look reflecting wisdom and deep attachment "Powerful animals always lure their treat. Without effort. He will come. No need to do anything"
"You mean he will come, willingly, to me?"
"Willingly?"
"I mean, he will want to come ? I don't have to force him or trap – "
"He will"
Nagini sounded so sure and so affirmative that Tom did not doubt her, not for an instant. As he always did. He accepted her judgement right away.
It would be preposterous to think that he, the Dark Lord, obeyed a snake. It was not like that. It was something far more complicated, far deeper, something that went beyond words and even beyond feelings. It was all about intuitions and trust. Nagini gave him advice and he always listened to her. He could disagree with her, he could be afraid of bowing to a snake's piece of advice – but he always followed her advice for never once had she disappointed these idiots who crawled before him and dreamed of the stars but could not even perform simple missions.
"You're right. I won't let him bother me"
Nagini hissed softly, as if to mark her agreement and settled back down, resting her head on his lap.
Determinedly grabbing the map he was observing before his thoughts had become heavy with the ominous reminiscence of the boy's last words, he resumed his work. He scribbled a few words on the bottom of the map.
He tapped his chin, a habit he had kept from his childhood, and wondered whether the planned attack would go as smoothly as he imagined it. If they planned to breach in Hogwarts, they needed to study how to pull the school's wards down, and how to apparate in the school's vicinity without one of the old fool's alarm going off.
He knew the Forbidden Forest was out of question. Any intruder would immediately set off Dumbledore's alarms and the whole school would be aware of their presence even before they could have set foot in the building itself.
They could not directly apparate in the school for the wards prevented them to do so.
The lake – no. The quidditch pitch – no. There needed to be another option. There had to be another way.
The students would be in charge of performing the ritual to take the wards down. During that time, he would apparate with the older Death Eaters at a secure location.
If the ritual did not go according to the plans, he would have to do it himself. It meant that he needed to find a place that was not too far from Hogwarts so he could rush to the school if needed, nor too close so Dumbledore would not immediately detect their presence.
He carefully examined the map once again. He drew circles around Hogwarts, evaluating which facilities or which forest there were in the vicinity.
He crossed out the first three areas. They needed to be more than 50 miles away from Hogwarts. Less than that would probably trigger the set-up defence spells and wards.
Since there would be some Death Eaters who had newly finished their studies, it would be best if the distance was less than 300 miles away. He did not need to lose wizards before the real attack began because some of them had been dismembered or locked up in another dimension while trying to apparate...
He crossed out the last two circles.
There was this small house which was inhabited since long ago. It was only 123 miles away from Hogwarts.
There was also this ancient castle whose current owners were presently in France. However, he had very few information on this building. While the owners were not known for having taken a particular side in the war, it did not mean the previous owners could not have set up defence spells meant for dark wizards, or even white wizards...He would need to send men there.
There was this forest too – quite remote at around 500 miles away from Hogwarts, but a convenient place for a huge gathering before an attack. It could also be a very good place for treating the injured. But he needed to gather more information on this forest. Creatures could be living there and setting foot on their territory would surely upset them. He would have to ask the werewolves.
Leading pawns in a war was tiresome and complicated. But he knew the first ones to die would not be him, nor the ones he deemed useful, but the weakest ones – those he would happily send first as cannon fodder, straight in the enemy's clutches, happy to be rid of unwanted stupidity.
Besides he could not die. Not when he had his Horcruxes. This war was worth it.
And that thought was comforting.
He sighed and set on continuing to elaborate his plans.
11 November, 1964. Unknown Forest. 520 miles away from Hogwarts.
‡ ‡
"Release my men, my Childe" a stern-looking man said as he approached the wizard and his vampire companion.
"Your Highness !" the Elves exclaimed, bowing to their waist as they caught sight of their Royal.
Harry and Vladimir unhurriedly set free the soldiers with a graceful movement of the wrist.
The Royal set his gaze on the intruders and his demeanour did not change as he quickly understood the identities of the two men. Strangely enough to the eyes of his soldiers, a quick upturn of his lips showed that the Royal was actually quite amused to see them.
"Did you not pledge allegiance to us, Royals ?" he asked his men.
"We did, Your Highness" they replied in unison, bowing once again.
"Then, please explain why you wanted to harm this Childe of mine" the Royal asked, a twinkle of sheer happiness dancing in his eyes.
"We – we...Your Childe, Your Highness ?" the soldiers' leader stuttered, at loss for words.
"My Childe. The young man you have in front of you. Surely, you did notice his mark"
"Yes. But – Your Highness...Please forgive my ignorance, but I was not aware you had a son"
"Not yet" The Royal replied, a strange wisdom and sense of ageing pervading his words.
The soldiers looked up at him with sheer incomprehension. The Royal chuckled and started walking away. Upon seeing that no one was following him, he turned around.
"Why don't you go home and rest?" then, facing Vlaidmir and Harry "Follow me, let us have a family reunion"
The Elves were quick to follow the orders, although they still did not understand what was happening. Harry and Vladimir glanced at each other, clearly as much amused by the weird situation as the Royal.
They walked a bit until they reached the small community in itself. Unlike his people, Vladimir noted, the Elves were all close to each other. It seemed more like a village than a city. Another striking difference was that, unlike the Lair which was basically a castle, what was obviously the Royals' dwelling was not separated from the other houses by a barrier of any kind. It looked more or less like a primitive village, but the vampire was not fooled.
Upon researching Harry's parents, he had learnt that this community had been formed even before Vladimir's own people had settled themselves, built a city and chosen a leader. These Elves were one of the very first creature community.
Vladimir was pleased to note that he had correctly guessed which house was the Royals'. As soon as they stepped in, a tall woman greeted them with a soft and almost eerie smile.
"Welcome, dear guests" her pale blue eyes were immediately drawn to the wizard.
"I am most honoured to meet you" Vladimir greeted back. Another smile on the woman's part was his only answer.
She and Harry kept staring at each other, and none of the people who were there dared to interrupt this silence. Vladimir noticed how flushed the boy had become, his pupils a bit more dilated than usual, his lips slightly parted and his shoulders tense.
Her smile felt foreign to him and yet, it felt strangely comforting as if he could see something beyond this smile, remember who he was through this smile. The feeling it sparked within him was slowly growing, threatening to burn his whole being out. He was afraid he might lose control in front of this woman whom he did not know how to name.
He could feel his being shiver – whether with fright, apprehension or excitement, he could not know. She suddenly extended her hand, palm facing the ceiling. He glanced back and forth between her face and her palm, as a frightened animal would. Very gingerly, he reached out with his fingertips.
As soon as his flesh came into contact with hers, he thought he was about to be swallowed by the brightening, ever-growing and unique feeling that had erupted deep in his stomach since he had set her eyes on the woman. His blood was recognizing her. His creature was calling out to her, his past was resurfacing in a tightly wrapped ball of lies and truths, delicately intertwined and embroided.
He met her gaze and knew that she too, had felt the strangely compelling and so delicious pull. A small smile which, unknown to him, was strangely similar to the woman's made its way on his face.
"Hello..." he whispered in the language of the Elves.
Warmth spread in his back, the mark throbbing with delight as he used his heritage, his true language – the language of the Elves.
"Hello..." she mirrored him. A sharp intake of breath from her almost broke Harry's daze but the next words completely stopped his thought process, " – my Childe..."
Vladimir stood by his friend's side, completely passive, knowing that it was a meeting of the greatest importance for Kreshnik – or rather, Eliel...The boy had been taken too deep in a swirl of angry red lies and deceptions for such a long time that family bonds had lost their importance, safe for the one he shared with his godfather Sirius Black.
Now that he was disconnected from his own time, the wizard was given an opportunity to reunite with his family and with himself – with what he was, what he represented for this community of Elves.
Harry's jaw clenched and his muscles hurt from being so tightly strained. A slight trembling of his chin told Vladimir that his precious wizard was struggling to prevent his tears from rolling down his cheeks.
The petite boy's lips were trembling and opened and close rhythmically, the words stumbling behind his teeth, unable to come out. It seemed as though the ever-growing and indescribable feeling would erupt from his chest at once as soon as the words came out, never to return again. He was afraid of uttering the word he had secretly cherished in his head for all these years, for he feared what this tight ball of anxiousness and emotion might trigger if it came out of his body.
Finally, he could not hold it any longer and his voice came out rushed in a raspy breath – a swimmer coming to the surface, to the light after spending too much time under water.
"Mother" and the tears fell down freely on the skin, marring yet heightening the beauty of the pallid flesh.
Warm arms brought him closer, and a sweet embrace closed him off from the outside world. He let himself fall deeper in this moment and closed his eyes with a sigh.
11 November 1964. Hogwarts.
‡ ‡
It was early morning when they came back to Hogwarts. They had spent the night at the Royals' and had left with many questions left unanswered. It was about 5 in the morning and Vladimir worried for his wizard companion who, unlike the full-fledged vampires, needed to sleep. However, the meeting had been worth it.
A sharp tug on his sleeve made him look at the boy. Kreshnik's vivid emerald eyes seemed to tear apart his soul and dissect each and every one of his secrets. A sad smiles made its way on the vampire's face as he contemplated his Kreshnik – the wizards' Harry Potter he thought disdainfully – who was obviously tired, both physically and emotionally for he had had a rough night, what with the meeting with his parents.
"Will you come tonight?"
"I'll find the time to" Vladimir assured Kreshnik with a soft look dancing around in his eyes.
He reached out for his favourite wizard and patted his hair. Words were not needed. Both knew what the vampire meant through this oddly gentle show of affection.
Kreshnik's first meeting with his parents had been highly emotional and the vampire leader had been reminded of how much a child Kreshnik still was. Compared to him, that is.
Faint traces of tears could still be made out if one looked up close at the boy's face. However, what these tears meant, Harry himself still did not know. It was because of the emotion. But what emotion ? Relief ? Happiness ? Sadness ?
Harry had had no time to think about it yet. For the moment, all of these feelings seemed to have merge in one greyish blur of colours within his very being, leaving his mind all fuzzy. It was the first time he had been able to see his parents face-to-face, and the rush of emotion was too much.
Besides, even if he had known about this matter for a long time, he still had to come around the idea that these people – his parents – whom he had never seen before were the people who had cared – would care – for him deeply, cherishing and loving him.
Since the time he had learnt the truth about his origins, he had often imagined what his parents would look like. He would often dream of a pale woman with dark hair and deep green eyes – a colour which he was fond of, even now when he knew that the beautiful Lily Evans with her eerie Avada Kedavra eyes was not his mother – , with thin and soft rosy lips stretching up in a smile and a gentle frown of concern upon her brow.
In his mind, he would draw a tall man beside her. A tall and strong man, able to protect her. With dark wavy hair – like Sirius, he used to think – , kind hazel eyes and an air of authority around him.
However his parents had not been how he had imagined them. Her mother had blonde hair – which strangely reminded him of the Malfoys – and she certainly did not have green eyes, but blue ones. His father did not have dark wavy hair, but shoulder-length brown straight hair, his eyes were definitely molten amber and while he did exude authority, the most noticeable feeling he gave off was that of gentleness and care.
His parents were not how he had physically expected them to be. But they were as he had imagined parents would be – loving, kind and concerned about his well-being. They loved him. They wanted him here.
And that was enough for him.