Author's Note:Enjoy! The tournament will be next chapter!
Disclaimer:Mine, mine, mine, mine, not mine. Oh, darn it! Not mine…
Warning: Language. Violence. Slash. Non-slash. (Male/Female)
(***Sirius Black***)
"Until dinner? Seriously?" Sirius shouted, not wanting to wait to see his Godson.
"Yes, Sirius, seriously." Remus paid his friend no heed as he turned the next page in his book. What was he going to tell Harry? While he knew that Voldemort had nothing good in store for the young boy; he also knew that Harry would prefer to handle it on his own. It all came down to whether he needed to trample Harry's self-esteem by showing a lack of trust and telling him to stay away from the Dark Lord or allow Harry to make his own choices and risk Voldemort destroying his spirit completely. It didn't sound like a hard choice to most, but it was. If he showed distrust then Harry would be hurt; hurt more than Remus could say. He would lose Harry's faith in him, and when it came to Harry, faith was something that could never be earned back.
"Let him make his own decisions." Remus looked up from his book as Sirius's voice broke through the silence that the werewolf hadn't realized had fallen over them. Slowly, a thankful smile appeared on Remus's face.
"I will." He loved it when the ex-Auror allowed his brilliance to shine through the childish façade. There was another moment of silence, this time a comfortable one, before Sirius spoke again.
"So… Does this mean we get to go early?" The Black's eager tone echoed throughout the rather large room easily.
"No."
(***Draco Malfoy***)
Draco exchanged a heated glance with Severus before getting back to his potion. Potter and he would be the first ones to duel. That wouldn't have bothered him so much if the Dark Lord hadn't ordered it. The Dark Lord never did things without good reason, Draco just wasn't sure whether the reason was good for him or not. Severus had told him the news just after sex that very same morning. Personally, he would have liked to have had more of a heads up. Still, he wasn't going to allow himself to mess up a perfectly good potion just because the Dark Lord had finally started paying attention to him. It was bound to happen anyways. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoys always got what they wanted. Unless, of course, the Dark Lord didn't want him to get what he wanted. Damn. He was thinking too much again. Adding one last Gremlin toe, Draco finished the potion. Light grey eyes glanced up as he capped the vile. Potter and Granger were already at the front. He and Blaise had been beaten. Again. Seeming not to care, Blaise plucked the small glass container out of Draco's hands and sauntered to the front of the room. If other people weren't around, Draco would have rolled his eyes. Blaise could be such a show-off sometimes. Then again, it wasn't like Draco really had any room to complain. He enjoyed attention just as much.
Yet, as the young Malfoy stood from his current table, he knew that now wasn't the time to be thinking about such things. The Dark Lord would be at the tournament. His father would be at the tournament. And who knew how many Deatheaters would be there! Draco couldn't afford to screw up. He had to beat Harry Potter. As he watched said boy toss Granger – or perhaps Blaise – a smile, a positively brilliant plan came to mind. It would be humiliation if he lost to the Savior of the Light, but if he lost to a new member of the Dark… That would be completely different. And considering the way that the Light had been treating him lately, it wouldn't be all too hard to convince him to cross over. Add that to the fact that it would make the Dark Lord happy, it was perfect. Finally, Draco reached the only three other people who had finished their potion already. If Blaise could get Granger to follow along with Potter then the annoying Savior would be even more likely to agree. Then, the Dark Lord would praise him, or at least give him a compliment or two. Of course, Draco would be the happiest if the man would just pick him up and fuck him against the castle wall.
"So how are you feeling about the upcoming tournament?" Potter questioned him as if he actually cared. Draco gave a haughty sneer.
"I'm fine, Potter, it's you who should be worried." Even if Potter was going to agree to switch over, he was still the enemy at the moment. Potter just offered him a soft smile while cocking both brows.
"Believe me, I am." Draco wasn't sure whether the smaller boy was serious or simply making fun of him. He had, after all, told the old fool that dueling wasn't his best subject. Draco went with the latter option simply because he knew how to deal with that one: anger.
"Right. And you're the next Dark Lord, too." It was meant to be a sarcastic comment, considering Potter would never be able to defeat the Dark Lord to do that and had way too much of a hero-complex, but Potter didn't respond; no one did. The class was completely quiet. What? They didn't actually think that he was serious, did they? Judging by the way that everyone was pretending to pay attention to their potions, probably to avoid the wrath of Severus, and sneaking glances every few seconds, the answer was yes. Draco's upper lip lifted a bit in a sneer.
"Don't flatter yourself, Potter. We all know that trusting you to win this war is like trusting a House Elf not to follow orders. If we want to win the war, we've got to do it ourselves." It was a clear statement; clearly saying that the Light would never win, but not in any incriminating way. Especially since he didn't say which side he was for. His father had taught him well. Finally, as if snapping out of a trance, Potter answered.
"Have fun with that." And then he walked back towards his table, completely ignoring the whispers which had begun to break out. Well, they could be heard every minute or so, as if pausing would stop Severus from hearing. Imbeciles.
"Do you think he'll really be the next Dark Lord?" A random Gryffindor that Draco didn't care enough to remember the name of whispered to a red and gold clad girl.
"I heard he's powerful enough." She muttered back after a full minute of 'sneaking' glances between Potter – because he was the object of their conversation – and Severus – to make sure that he didn't catch them. So much for the infamous Gryffindor loyalty. It was no wonder that they weren't sorted into Hufflepuff.
"Well… yeah. But do you really think he'd do that? Harry's always been nice to me-" The girl cut him off quickly, speaking in the same 'I-know-everything' tone that Granger had used in First year.
"And you don't think that," the girl paused to fake a cough into her hand, lowering her voice even further, as if that would make her any less audible, "You-Know-Who was nice when he went here? It's all an act!" Draco pulled his eyes away from the murmuring pair and over to Potter, who simply smiled like he didn't care, like his own House turning against him meant nothing at all. Something was going on here, and Draco was determined to find out what.
(***Harry Potter***)
Harry glanced up from his potions book when he smelt something burning: Ron and Neville's potion. Green eyes widened. Whose bright idea had it been to put those two together to work on a potion! Quickly, Harry jumped up, putting all of his Quidditch training to good use as he sprinted over to their potion. It was a bubbling purple, whereas it should have been a calm orange by that point. Swiftly calculating a way to turn it into something, anything, that wouldn't explode, Harry ran over to the ingredients cabinet and grabbed three dragon scales, a jar of newt eyes, and a case of lizard claws. The dicing went quickly, the chopping even quicker, and soon enough, Harry was tossing it all in, doing half stirs and quick twists. In minutes, the bubbling purple simmered down to a beautiful silver color, almost like mercury.
"Mr. Potter-" Snape stopped himself as he laid eyes on the potion. "Class dismissed." Harry's brows furrowed together in confusion.
"Wha-" This time, Snape interrupted Harry instead of himself.
"Class dismissed, Mr. Potter. Leave." Harry hesitated for only a moment before leaving the room with the rest of the class. What got Harry even more confused than usual was the fact that they still had twenty minutes left before class would end. In consolation, Malfoy looked just as confused as he did, in that emotionless sort of Malfoy way.
"What did you do to our potion!" Ron's voice was angry, just as it had been the past few times that he had gotten the chance to talk to his once best friend. Harry calmed the spark of anger that tried to flicker to life.
"I saved it. Your potion was going to blow up the entire classroom." He tried to make the red head understand; tried to get through without a fight.
"It was doing just fine!" Ron shoved Harry. Green eyes dilated as Harry stopped himself from shoving back; from breaking Ron's arm, just like he had always refrained himself from doing to his remaining relatives. Harry grit his teeth just a bit, the anger sparking again.
"If you say so, Ron." Harry couldn't let himself get pushed around today for there was no guarantee that he would be able to stop himself from pushing back. He was under too much stress.
"Yeah, well- Wait, what?" Why couldn't Ron just understand for once?
"You're right. I should have left your potion alone. I'm sorry." Harry saw Hermione watching him in confusion and thanked Merlin that she didn't step in.
"Yeah… Yeah! You should be sorry!" Harry blinked, knowing that he needed to get out of there.
"And I am. Now, if you'll excuse me…" Harry swiftly brushed past the other students, barely noticing the magic escaping through the souls of his shoes, small white flames as cold as ice lashing out with every step he took. Thankfully, he wasn't the only one that didn't notice.
"Harry! Harry calm down!" He heard Hermione pleaded quietly once they were a ways down the hall, her slight hands clutching onto the hem of his robe. Funny, he hadn't noticed her following him.
"I am calm, 'Mione." It was true, in a way. He wasn't angry anymore, just blank. His emotions had been locked safely away until he could deal with them properly.
"No, Harry, you're not. You're shutting yourself off again." Green eyes blinked curiously at her words. She knew him so well.
"So?" It was how he dealt with things. She knew that.
"It's not healthy, Harry." Harry closed his eyes, halfway ashamed. Of course she was only trying to help. That was just how Hermione was. Lightly, he let out a sigh.
"Sorry, 'Mione. It's just… a habit, suppose." The guilt was leaking through his walls, but the anger was well at bay.
"It's- It's fine, Harry. I just wish you'd talk to me more." Easier said than done. He let her in on some things; many things, but not everything. He didn't say anything about his surrogate parents beating him, or the wild emotions that coursed through his veins when people assumed that light magic was good and dark magic was evil, or even that whether you harbored light or dark magic had any impact on how strong you were. Hermione didn't know how many times he had wished that he had a shoulder to cry on for once or that he could rest without leaving one eye open; without worrying about being attacked from every angle at every moment. All he wanted was a moment of peace, and that was all that the world refused to give him. So, with a completely fake smile that Harry had used so many times before – though almost never on Hermione – the Boy Who Lived responded.
"Alright, Hermione, I will." He hated lying to her, but there were no other options. Hermione was too soft to handle all of his problems. For Merlin's sake, Harry, was too soft to handle all of his problems! So he would stay silent, and she would stay innocent and kind, unhurt by the cruel acts that others had done whilst she wasn't around. She smiled back, obviously buying it, and Harry broke just a little more inside. If he couldn't have peace, could he at least have someone who could look him in the eye and tell that he was lying through his teeth?
"Thank you, Harry." No. No, he couldn't. They spent the rest of their twenty minutes strolling around the castle in a comfortable silence. When they finally made it back to the potions classroom, there was a magical sign floating in front of the door. It had two, simple, glowing words:
Class Cancelled
Harry stared. Potions class had never, in all of his six years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, been cancelled. Green eyes closed, as if that would make the sign go away, before opening again. It was still there. Once more, green eyes closed, a light groan escaping from his throat as he slumped against the wall. Had his potion fix really been that bad?
"I told you that you shouldn't have touched the bloody potion!" Ron's voice echoed throughout the hall; throughout the now present students trying to get a look at what the door said. Snapping his eyes open, Harry glared at Ron.
"Ron?" Harry made sure to keep his tone placid as the red head pursed his lips.
"What?" The word was practically spit at the young Savior, causing his fist to curl at his side; nails biting into the skin of his palm.
"Shut up." With that said, Harry turned and marched off. Hermione didn't follow. She didn't have to. They both knew where he was headed. So, without looking back to see the sputtering face of Ron, Harry went to the Quidditch Pitch to think. That's where the duel would be held anyways, and there was really no point in attending his Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Astronomy or Herbology classes. He already had all of the knowledge to pass the classes, whether he attended or not. Sure, it was a full workload either way – what with homework and all – plus Quidditch practice and Prefect duties, but Harry enjoyed the distraction of it. Quietly, Harry laid down in the middle of the Pitch to watch the clouds go by, falling asleep somewhere along the way.
(***Severus Snape***)
Severus stared at the potion, still trying to comprehend how Potter had managed to pull it off. That particular potion had only been made once before in all of recorded history, and that was by Merlin, himself. No one had been able to figure out how he'd done it, and Merlin had refused to tell. Many had tried to duplicate it, but none had succeeded. Until now. No one had succeeded because it was the only known potion that required magic to flow into it. Only the most powerful of wizards could control their magic that well, and even then, the potion required the same type of magic that Merlin had harbored. Those two simple facts told Snape three things: (A) Potter was extremely powerful. (B) He had the same type of magic as Merlin. And (C) The Dark Lord was punishing Lucius through Draco. It was no wonder he wanted Draco to face the boy first! Dark eyes flitting back to the potion, Severus made a decision. He had to warn Draco. Emotionless mask back in place, the Potions Master spun on his heels towards the door, wandlessly spelling the cauldron and everything in it to his private potions laboratory. As soon as he spun, he stopped.
"Hello, Severus." Immediately, Severus dropped to one knee.
"My Lord." He kept his head down and his shields up, well aware that the man wouldn't be happy about his plans; if he didn't know about them already, that was.
"Lucius needs to learn his place, and while his son being the first one knocked out of the tournament won't do that, it'll certainly knock him down a step or two." Obviously, the physically younger male already knew. "For the moment, and only the moment, Draco and Lucius are connected. If you wouldn't attach your fate to Lucius's, don't do it to Draco's." The advice was more of an order than anything else. Severus kept his head down, fear leaking into his veins, as it always did when the Dark Lord was around. Draco was important to him, though he knew that the younger male only sought him for meaningless sex. If it came down to it, his life or Draco's, Severus didn't know which one he would choose, and that prevented him from looking up; from seeing the amused darkness glinting in crimson orbs.
"Of course, My Lord." The Potions Master heard more than saw black dress shoes saunter around him. Severus felt the bottom of said shoe press down on his back and grit his teeth to keep himself from doing something stupid as light pressure was applied. This was neither the time nor the place to become a caring person!
"You're mind doesn't match your mouth, Severus." Voldemort said his name in an almost taunting tone, and Severus forced his mind blank. Dull, emotionless eyes stared at the cold stone floor. There was a reason that he was the Dark Lord's left hand, and it wasn't because of his good looks. If nothing else, Severus was loyal. He wouldn't betray the Dark Lord. He wouldn't betray the man he possibly loved. And as it came down to it, as he shut his emotions off, Severus unwillingly chose. Potter wouldn't kill Draco. Voldemort would. It was as simple as that. He was choosing the lesser of two evils.
"Much better." Severus could practically hear the smirk in Voldemort's voice. "Now, where's the potion that clued you in?" The foot removed itself; a silent command to stand. Somehow, as Severus stood and led the Dark Lord to his private potions lab, he felt like he was condemning the world. Who knew? Maybe he was.
(***Hermione Granger***)
Hermione all but ignored the blonde haired, blue eyed Hufflepuff trying to gain her attention as she jotted down everything that Professor Binns was saying about the Gremlin Wars.
"Hermione!" The girl's urgent whisper once again reached Hermione's ears, annoying her to no end. Finally giving in, but not giving up, Hermione took out a small piece of parchment, spelling it to go to the girl.
What?
And then the parchment disappeared and Hermione was back to writing notes. Less than a minute passed before the response was on her desk.
Is Harry really on the Dark side?
Hermione stopped writing mid-sentence. Had the rumors really progressed so far as to have the ever-loyal Hufflepuffs questioning Harry's place in the war? Brown eyes glanced over at the empty seat beside of her. She hadn't seen Harry since he had so brilliantly told Ron to shut up, and that was six classes – not including lunch – ago. He had never skipped so many classes at once before. Slowly, Hermione wrote back.
Why would you think something so ludicrous?
She didn't allow the note to show her insecurities on the matter. It was true that Harry wasn't on the Dark side, but he wasn't on the Light side, either. His loyalties were hanging in the balance. And, when it came right down to it, so were hers.
Well, everybody's saying it, and he is a Parselmouth, after all. You can't really just up and trust someone who can speak to snakes. Plus, I've never actually heard him say what side he was on. So… Is it true or not?
The written answer had Hermione crumpling up the piece of parchment and tossing it into her knapsack. She had thought that they had gotten over that in Second year. Really, would it make that much of a difference if he could speak to lions, instead? As Hermione glanced at the still waiting Hufflepuff out of her peripheral vision, she couldn't help but be disgusted at the obvious answer. Yes. Harry was getting punished for the sins of others, and there was nothing she could do to help. As the only female member of what people once called the Golden Trio slowly went back to writing her notes, a horribly wonderful idea popped into her head.
She could help, but she would have to enlist the help of others to do so. If the Light wouldn't accept Harry, then maybe the Dark would. Never before had she actually thought of Harry taking that extra step in the other direction, but it made sense. If he had to choose a side, it may as well be a side that would be open about their opinions towards him; wouldn't pretend to care and crush his spirits further with false promises of friendship. But before she could introduce Harry to the idea, she had to make sure the offer was there. Hermione hoped that Blaise and Malfoy didn't have important classes next. After all, they needed to have a talk.
(***Pansy Parkinson***)
Pansy allowed a sly smile to curve on her face as Draco recounted how Severus was going to be personally tutoring him during the upcoming summer. Through the emotionless mask, Draco really did care for the man. At least somewhat. She was glad that they had the next two classes together, and it helped that Blaise was accompanying them, too. She didn't have the same childhood-friend bond that she shared with Draco, but she was still closer to him than any other person in Hogwarts.
"We need to talk." Hermione Granger's voice was more solemn than Pansy had ever heard it, but, love interest of Blaise or not, Slytherins weren't kind to Gryffindors.
"And we need to get to class." The female Slytherin stated with a sneer placed firmly on her lips. For the first time in all of the six-going-on-seven years that Pansy had known the Mudblood, Granger hurled an insult right back at her.
"Then get going. You aren't needed for the conversation to take place." Pansy cocked a brow at the completely Slytherin manner in which the insult had been delivered: cold and cruel with a touch of arrogance. Pansy's sneer solidified, though at Granger's verbal attack or Blaise's almost-smile she wasn't sure.
"Where they go, I go." Pansy expected that faltering, unsure look to appear on Granger's face, but it didn't. In fact, a surprisingly Slytherin smile appeared on her face.
"Your common room or mine?" The Slytherin female blinked; face going completely blank. She had just, in a roundabout way, agreed to speaking with Granger.
"Ours." Draco stepped in for her and, as the last of students scurried off to their classes trying to avoid being late, they walked down to the dungeons; to the Slytherin common room. Blaise sauntered along next to Granger, just a few feet in front of Pansy and Draco. Brown eyes traveled across the Gryffindor's back suspiciously. What was she up to?
"Blaise chooses well." Draco's voice was soft against Pansy's ear, so soft that she barely heard it. Without missing a beat, Pansy replied just as quietly.
"He could choose better." She could feel the Malfoy nod more than she could see it.
"By far, but it helps our cause in the end." As much as Pansy hated to agree with the statement, she really had no choice. Seducing the best friend of Harry Potter was an ingenious way to get to Harry Potter.
"Agreed." Moments later, after a muttered Dragon Scales, they sat down in the silver and green clad common room, three Slytherins on one side and a single Gryffindor on the other.
"How against Harry is the Dark side?" Granger's words were solemnly serious, shocking Pansy into silence. There was only one way to take that.
"Are you trying to suggest that Potter wants to join our ranks?" Blaise's ever calm voice broke the silence, and Granger glanced away for a moment, sucking her lower lip into her mouth in an obvious show of nervousness before turning back to them with her confidence back in place. Yet, it didn't matter how quickly or well the Mudblood had covered up her uneasiness, they had saw; Pansy had saw.
"Well, not exactly." Even her tone screamed hesitation. Pansy chanced a glance at Draco to see his stunning silver-grey eyes focused solely on Granger. He looked like his father. At that moment, Pansy remembered when they were younger, only six or seven, and Draco had asked for her hand in marriage. She could have loved him, she knew, but their friendship was good enough. One day, she would find someone that could love her back and until then, friendship would have to be enough.
"You see, he doesn't- he doesn't really have a side. The Light's going too far; pushing too much, and I think that if there's any chance that the Dark will allow it, this war might just be over now." Pansy blinked. Sure, they wanted Potter on their side, but if she really thought that they would treat him any better than the Light did then she was even more stupid than Pansy had thought.
"And what makes you think we'll be any better?" Draco leaned back in his chair, eyes still completely focused on the slightly bushy haired girl.
"You won't. If anything, you'll treat him worse, but that way he'll be able to finally get what he wants." Granger seemed almost as if she were talking to herself as she said that, but quickly snapped out of her little daze when she finished.
"What does he want?" Pansy couldn't simply quell the curiosity that arose at Granger's previous statement. The Gryffindor stared at Pansy for a few long moments before smiling.
"You'll see. So will he be welcome or not?" The three Slytherins exchanged a look before Draco took the lead once more.
"He is." At that simple statement, Granger's smile widened tenfold.
"Terrific! I'll go ask Harry." Pansy blinked dumbly as the Gryffindor stood and practically skipped towards the exit.
"Wait!" The female Slytherin called out, brows furrowing in confusion. Granger turned her head in question. "You mean to tell me this wasn't his idea?" Pansy could hardly believe that the goodie-two-shoes Head Girl had actually gone behind her Savior's back to meet with them and to talk about him, no less!
"He doesn't have a clue." And then she was gone. Slowly, Pansy's eyes trailed over to Draco, and then to Blaise, before traveling back to the door. Somehow or another, Pansy knew that the day would only get worse from there.
(***Bellatrix Black***)
Bellatrix grinned, a slightly insane glint entering her eyes, as her Lord gave her permission to attend the tournament. It didn't matter that Rodolphus had to be by her side the entire time or that she had to take a Polyjuice Potion. She could go!
"And, Bellatrix." Her dark, grey-brown eyes immediately went to the Dark Lord's ever regal face.
"Yes, Milord?" Bellatrix's tone was eager, uncaring of just how many purebloods saw her express such emotions.
"Play nice with your cousin." The taunting tone that Bellatrix would have cursed most for had her grinning happily, not even caring that she would have to face her dreaded cousin once more.
"Yes, Milord." She wanted to ask if she could do anything else for him, but refrained. It was impolite to speak to a Lord unless spoken to and there would surely be punishment if she overstepped her boundaries.
"Good. Now go and take your potion from Rodolphus." The command sounded much like he was speaking to a small child that had put his or her toys away properly for the first time. It was degrading, but Bellatrix didn't care. Any attention from her Lord was good attention. With a quick nod, she sauntered past the other Inner-Circle Deatheaters – not including Severus, for he was already at the tournament, or Rodolphus, for he was fixing her Polyjuice Potion – with a wild grin. They all wished to be in her position, to have gotten precious face-time with the Dark Lord. They all envied her, just as they should, for she was in a position to be envied. Soon, she would be back in the Dark Lord's bed, where she belonged, and never would anyone doubt her again; never would Rodolphus be able to control her every move again. She easily made her way through the Malfoy house, eager to get her time with Rodolphus over with and return to her Lord's side.
(***Narcissa Malfoy***)
Narcissa watched Bellatrix go with guarded eyes. Her sister had never been quite sane, but the glint in her eye was even worse than usual. Wheels were turning in the pretend-Lestrange's mind, and Narcissa knew that it meant nothing good for the rest of them.
"Narcissa." Blue-grey eyes immediately focused on the undeniably incredible form of the Dark Lord. She didn't speak, as his tone was meant to gain her attention, not her voice. "Come with me." Slowly, she made her way through the ranks of Deatheaters, the ones who were not commanded to move. Narcissa didn't doubt that they would be in that exact position whenever they returned. Yet, she didn't dare look back to see the jealousy in their eyes. They wanted his attention, and though the feeling she got from the Dark Lord simply looking at her was thrilling, she would gladly hand that very same attention over to anyone else. Instead, Narcissa followed the Dark Lord out of the room, keeping her head down and tongue tied.
"Look at me, Narcissa." His deep, flowing voice soothed Narcissa's ears, much like his magic did as it fell over her, encasing her in a tomb she didn't want to escape like an addicting drug. Instantaneously, she looked up to meet intelligent crimson orbs. "You have an important task ahead of you, Narcissa; a very important task." Narcissa tried to ignore the feeling of exhilaration that welled up in her stomach at the thought of pleasing the Dark Lord. She wasn't like the rest of the sniveling fools that kissed his boots. Of course, she knew her place and knew it well, but that didn't mean she let her need to please him rule her life. At least, she tried not to.
"You are going to tip the young Potter's view on the Dark Arts." Narcissa questioned Voldemort's order with her eyes, but didn't dare speak up. How could she change his views? "He listens to his Godfathers. Rodolphus clearly has your cousin covered, but the werewolf is a different matter entirely." Blue-grey eyes widened as Narcissa fought with herself. She wanted more than anything to make the Dark Lord happy, but, at the same time, couldn't stand the thought of betraying the werewolf. The once-Black cursed herself as she held her tongue; her need for self-preservation winning out over her morals. She would give up anything for Draco, but what did she know about Remus? He wasn't worth the risk. Besides, if she refused then, if he didn't somehow force her into agreeing, he would simply assign it to someone else. With what felt like a mouth full of cotton, Narcissa responded.
"Yes, my Lord." Yet, as usual, the Dark Lord knew that something was off. Instead of cocking an eyebrow – questioning her like so many others would do – he narrowed his eyes. The crimson orbs seemed to see right into her very soul. She could have scoffed at her thoughts. It didn't seem as if he could see into her very soul; he could see into her very soul! Damn her inability to become an Occlumens. A glint appeared in the crimson orbs before disappearing - most likely because he had found whatever he was looking for.
"We're finished here, Narcissa, but you must know something before you go." The female Malfoy kept her eyes trained on the Dark Lord's; keeping the wariness in her eyes hidden beneath well-constructed shields. It didn't matter that he already knew all of her emotions, probably better than she did. To show such things was a terrible sign of weakness. "Disappoint me and your son will pay the price." Quickly, Narcissa steeled her emotions.
"Yes, my Lord." It didn't matter that her voice was barely above a whisper. Her message reached him just as his had reached her. For her son, she would trick Remus into trusting her and then betray his trust as soon as the little Potter boy was too wrapped up in Voldemort to care, just like all of the other Deatheaters. For a moment, she remembered the way that the last remaining Potter had smiled just before getting on the train; nothing but pained innocence. She felt horrible pang of guilt for sacrificing the boy to the Dark Lord, but it was survival of the fittest, and her son was at stake. Besides, it wasn't like Potter had parents to miss him. With the wellbeing of her son in mind, Narcissa pushed her morals and feeling on the matter to the side and left to take her place within the ranks of the Deatheaters. They were nowhere near out of the woods yet.
(***Lucius Malfoy***)
Lucius watched his wife reenter the room, noticing the way her eyes were harder than stones right off of the bat. Whatever the Dark Lord wanted, she didn't like it. Mentally, Lucius gave a scowl. It was obvious that she had agreed by the way she was still standing, but that didn't concern him. What concerned Lucius was the fact that, if she ended up getting an idea stuck in her head, she could ruin everything. It had been their parents that had brought Lucius and Narcissa together, trapping them in a horrid thing called marriage. If it had been up to Lucius he never would have married the headstrong, caring Narcissa Black. He would have married someone that would listen to him; do as he said when he said it. If it weren't for the political scandal that would have occurred, they would have divorced years ago. She walked over to the spot beside of him quietly, not so much as looking at him before turning around. He didn't dare speak to her, as they were not yet dismissed. She would answer all of his questions by the time the tournament was over. With seemingly limitless grace, the Dark Lord glided back into the room; power flowing from his being.
That was what Lucius craved: power. He craved the nearly inconceivable supremacy which the Dark Lord held over everyone. More than that, he craved the Dark Lord. Only once had Lucius been taken to the man's bed, but once was enough. Now, it was all he thought about. All Lucius wanted was to be in that position again; to feel the Dark Lord's magic – his power – rushing through every last molecule like an inexplicably wonderful virus. The head of the Malfoy household snapped out of his musings as crimson orbs met his own cloudy grey. He didn't need to ask to know that the man knew everything that he had just thought.
"Leave me." His voice held a nonchalant tone to it, but no one questioned the order. Soon, he would wield that ability as well. Just as soon as he took Rodolphus's place as the Dark Lord's right hand, they would listen to what he said. Dark, cunning brown eyes flew through Lucius's mind and he could have growled. Oh, how he hated Rodolphus. He hated the nearly lazy indifference with which the man carried himself; hated that the elder male was stronger than him and knew it. Lucius hated everything about Rodolphus right down to the fact that he had gotten the responsibility of watching over Bellatrix. He didn't like the insane Black, but it was a responsibility that the Dark Lord himself had handed out. As the last two Inner Circle Deatheaters filed out of the room and shut the door behind them, Lucius allowed himself a sneer. Soon enough, he would get what he wanted, no matter who tried to get in his way in the process.
(***Rodolphus Lestrange***)
Rodolphus watched Lucius's magic unconsciously spike in anger from behind the pages of a book as he led Bellatrix down the long, spiral staircase. The Malfoy was irate, but about what? With nearly as much ease as the Dark Lord, Rodolphus slipped into the eldest male Malfoy's mind. Not many knew that he was a skilled Legilimens, and he wanted to keep it that way, but that didn't mean he couldn't use it on the idiots who wouldn't notice. It wasn't like the platinum blonde was Severus or anything. The thoughts and images that Rodolphus found in Lucius's mind didn't come as a surprise to him. Most Deatheaters revered him for his power and closeness to the Dark Lord, but there were always the select few that chose to envy him. Still, the complex plans to take him out were a bit much. Well, they would be if there was actually a chance of him succeeding.
Rodolphus could have scoffed at the thought of Lucius actually overpowering him. The only people that could kill Rodolphus were Voldemort and Dumbledore. At least, as far as Rodolphus knew. He supposed it didn't really matter as Lucius Malfoy fell into neither the category of people that he knew could kill him nor the category of people that he didn't know that could kill him. Just as quickly and quietly as he had went in, Rodolphus escaped from Lucius's mind. The remaining Deatheaters stared at him, at him and at Bellatrix, who no longer looked like Bellatrix. Instead, she looked like a muggle that they had captured and killed. Rodolphus wasn't completely sure why the Dark Lord had wanted all of his Inner Circle Deatheaters to attend the tournament, but he did. It was just as well considering that Bellatrix would be on her best behavior, as she always was when Voldemort was around. The fact that her ever enticing cousin would be there helped, too. His lips nearly twitched upwards at the thought of their last meeting. Sirius didn't despise being ignored like Bellatrix or ignore him back like Narcissa. No, the young Black had simply gone on like Rodolphus had been giving him his full attention. Sure, he had been carefully listening to the nonsensical stories which Sirius had spouted, but he had also been monitoring the magic downstairs and reading. There was no way that he could have known that Rodolphus was actually paying attention, and that only served to interest him all the more.
"Rodolphus." Narcissa gave him a nod, which he absently returned, before turning to her sister. Something was troubling her, and Rodolphus was willing to bet Bellatrix that their Lord had something to do with it. Dark brown eyes blinked at the thought. That wasn't a very good analogy considering he would bet her whether he would win or not; especially if not. Quickly, to himself, Rodolphus fixed the analogy. He was willing to bet Sirius that the Dark Lord was the cause of her troubled thoughts. Yet, the Lestrange didn't bother going into her mind like he had her husband's. He was already fairly sure of what had been assigned to her. "Bellatrix." Narcissa's soft voice continued, completely unaware of Rodolphus's thoughts. He didn't have to turn around to know that the once-muggle's-face was spilt into a crazed grin.
"It's Alison now, Cissa!" A not-so-sane giggle followed the statement, which Rodolphus ignored completely. He had dealt with her odds and ends for the past seventeen years. There was nothing that she could possibly do that would startle him. "Rodolphus is going to-" Quickly, easily, Rodolphus cut her off.
"No." He was not going to take her to the Dark Lord for his approval. Her transformation had been perfect. A sneer appeared on thin lips as transfigured blue eyes narrowed.
"I didn't even-" Again, Rodolphus stopped her in her tracks.
"No." His voice was a smooth deadpan that had Bellatrix giving a quiet scream of frustration.
"Stay out of my mind!" She had come across his Ligilimency skills quite a while back, and had used that to excuse her predictability. He didn't have to delve into her mind to know what she was thinking. Seventeen years spending every waking moment in her presence was plenty enough to do that. Yet, besides a curious glance from Narcissa, no one paid the shouted words any mind. Bellatrix was completely and totally insane, destroying any and all credibility that they might have otherwise put into her words.
"I'm not in your mind, Alison." He was blunt and to the point, knowing expertly well that it would only annoy her more. Short, curly blonde locks bounced as the still-Black-female turned angrily toward him. She opened her mouth to scream something at him, but Narcissa's soft voice stopped her.
"If I remember correctly, a Polyjuice potion only lasts for only an hour, and takes a month to brew. Am I wrong?" Rodolphus simply raised his brows a bit, preparing to respond. Bellatrix saved him the effort.
"Rodolphus made a new potion; one just like a Polyjuice potion but different!" And then she stopped, almost like a rollercoaster running off of the tracks: abrupt and unexpected. Narcissa's eyes turned curiously to meet Rodolphus's own orbs of sight. He merely gave an almost shrug in response. Just like his Legilimens/Occlumens skills, most didn't know of his ability to tamper with potions. Rodolphus, all in all, was better than Severus, though not nearly as good as the Dark Lord. Ah well, what they didn't know wouldn't hurt Rodolphus.
(***Remus Lupin***)
"I'm finished!" Sirius held up his cleaned plate, as if to prove a point, and Remus gave a soft smile.
"I can see that." In fact, the animagus was making that small fact fairly hard to ignore.
"So can we go yet?" Blue eyes rose to meet pleading brown.
"No." Remus himself hadn't finished eating, and he wasn't planning on leaving until he had. Pointedly ignoring the disappointed whining noise that Sirius was making, Remus continued to eat. Though he didn't show it nearly as much, Remus was just as excited about seeing Harry again; just as anxious about how the tournament was going to go down. He knew that his Godson was powerful. He knew that if it came down to it, he wouldn't stand a chance. He knew that Harry was too gentle to put that power into good use. Harry would win, Remus didn't doubt, but he would do it without hurting the others. At least, Remus was fairly sure that he would do it without hurting them. With the way that things had been going, there was no telling just how close to the edge Harry was standing. Yet, Remus wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not.
If Harry let his full power show then Voldemort would see; would want him more. Just the same, he would find that there was a large possibility of Harry not being able to defeat him. Remus, personally, didn't know the extent of his Godson's power, but his werewolf side could smell it; could smell the magic practically dripping off of him. But was that enough? Could Remus's claims of Harry being able to defeat Voldemort stand in the light or would they wither away to nothing in the face of something – someone – more powerful? He wasn't sure that he wanted to find out. Just the same, Remus finished eating, clock on the wall reading a quarter to seven as he did. It was time for them to depart for Hogwarts, and depart for Hogwarts they would. For better or for worse, they would stand by Harry. Remus could only hope that it would be enough.