Chapter Twelve: Weasleys

Antonius stared at Weasley for another moment, silently cursing himself.

'How could I have been so stupid!' He thought, 'I should have listened to Draco, I knew he must be right about some of his bigotry. Why did I ever think to trust the Weasel? You know…'

"The Weasleys really are the filthiest of them all," Antonius said the last part aloud, "Lower than mud bloods could ever hope to be, and certainly the worst lot of blood traitors I've ever seen."

Weasley looked a bit shocked, before saying, "You're lucky Hermione put up a silencing spell around that door mate," he paused, "and stop being quite so angry with me, i'm sure once you drink this everything will become clear."

Antonius put his nose in the air, smelling the foul concoction, "I would sooner join Lord Voldemort himself."

Weasley actually had the gall to laugh, "I highly doubt that," he said.

Antonius tried to struggle, but he was put into a body bind, and then Weasley poured the drink down his mouth. He tried to spit it back out, but Weasley covered his mouth and nose so he had no choice but to swallow.

Immediately after the world began to spin, and he collapsed. Distant memories swam around his head, and his past was finally revealed to him.

...

Before the boy ever knew of his legacy as the boy who lived, he was Harry, simply Harry. He was quiet, shy, and still somehow innocent although his upbringing had been anything but. He had few memories of his parents, but the ones he did have he treasured as if they were made of gold. He held onto them, hoping for them to never slip away. Blurry red hair, round glasses, and a barking laugh Harry would come to recognize as his godfather's were all he had of his life before them.

Young Harry did not like to think that he Dursleys were cruel on purpose, after all, they never left him with broken bones, and the occasional bruise would heal quickly, he liked to think there was something wrong with him rather than them. Something about him that brought out the Dursley's hate.

One of the most traumatic events of his childhood was being chased by Aunt Marge's dog Ripper. No matter how fast little Harry ran, the great Rottweiler was always bigger and faster. It was sheer luck that had allowed him to climb into that tree before being bitten. The cold night in the tree had always been a cruel reminder to never go near Aunt Marge's dogs again.

His childhood had remained both arduous and exhausting. From the hard work the daily chores brought to the strange incidents that always seemed to happen around him, Little Harry Potter was always sure that something had to be wrong with him. There had to be, because otherwise he had to face the truth that the Dursleys were cruel, and malicious, and mean because they wanted to be; and no child could handle that ugly truth.

Little Harry Potter learned to be sneaky, and he always brought home grades slightly under his cousin's so his aunt would never accuse him of cheating. Little Harry learned that when he cooked vegetables there were always some leftover for himself, and that if he didn't want to clean his cousin's room that week all he had to do was leave out a Parent's magazine on the living room table, and petunia would decide Dudley needed a lesson in responsibility.

He learned to be fast. His cousin never caught him when they were Harry hunting, and he learned to hide. He learned to be invisible, and how not to be seen. He learned to ordinary by being extraordinary. He blended in, even with the scar on his forehead. The scar that strangers seemed to notice. Strangely dressed, odd people would shake his hand, and thank him. He didn't learn why until his eleventh year.

When Hagrid told him he was a hero, he was bitter. His whole life he had been invisible, and now he had lost that anonymity he loved to have. He wished for the days when he could be unseen and unnoticed, even if it meant the Dursleys. But he heard the tales of his parents, his brave, self sacrificing parents, and he wanted to be like them. Strong, brave, everything he thought he wasn't.

He tried so hard to be like his parents, he already hated bullies; now he wouldn't be afraid to tell them that. When he met the blonde boy in the robe shop he could tell immediately he was a bully, and he was reminded of everything he wanted to leave behind. His cousin. Harry hunting. The Dursleys and the pain of never having any true friends.

When Harry Potter met Ron Weasley he understand what it was like, and he was slightly jealous of his new friend for having such a large family. When he first met the brown haired girl on the train he had no idea how close they would become, but he thought her very intelligent.

When it came time for the sorting Harry knew that if he wanted to be like his parents he couldn't be a Slytherin he had to be Gryffindor. He told the hat so, and it agreed. He was in his new house with his new friends in a new life.

His first kill was at age eleven miles below a centuries old school. He never really thought of it as a murder until a few months after the fact when he came back to Hogwarts and saw Gilderoy Lockhart sitting in the place where he had previously seen Quirrel all year. His professor had been a person; an evil person passed by a dark lord, but still a person. He had killed someone. It had taken Ron and Hermione giving him a calming fraught from the hospital to calm him down.

He began to notice the horses pulling the carriages.

He saw Riddle, and he saw how similar they were. Their hair and eyes so close in color, and their childhoods so similar. Riddle had explained much more to him tag he had told Dumbledore. He had seen the orphanage, and was scared of knowing how similar he was to Voldemort.

By the time he met a dementor for the first time he had plenty to fear. Although the first time he heard his mother's voice it was the sound of her screams.

He learned the part onus charms for many reasons, the main one being he wanted the sound to stop. Every time a dementor was near he heard every fear he had rise to the surface. They took all his fears and bought every last one of them to the forefront. Dementors were his very fear wrapped into one terrifying cloaked monster. It was no wonder his boggart was one of these unholy creatures.

His godfather was going to die, but they were saved by a white light and a stag. When he thought his father had saved him he was overjoyed. Then he discovered it was him all along, and while he was disappointed he couldn't help but be happy that some part of his father lived on through his patronus.

That summer changed everything. He was no longer Harry Potter, but Antonius Malfoy. H head to play the part, and act the part, and he had never been a very good actor.

He had to lose his memories, and rely on his friends to get them back. He only hoped they could accomplish this, if not, Harry Potter would be gone forever.

Luckily, he came back.

…

Harry Potter came to feeling as though he had slept for many hours. Then he remembered what had happened over the past month. He tried to sit up, but his head felt as though it was f

it to burst, so he settled for laying down on the floor.

He could distantly make out Ron's voice, "Harry? Harry?! Can you hear me?"

Harry shakily nodded, and said, "That was terrible," then he balked at his voice, which sounded so very different from what he was used to. He coughed a couple times before talking again in his normal accent, "I feel like absolute shit."

He could see Ron shrug, "Well, I couldn't exactly bring you to the infra army could I?"

Harry shook his head, then realized that he was here, and Ron was here. He succeeded in standing up then hugged his friend, "Ron, you're here."

Ron looked taken aback for a moment then shrugged, "Of course I would be, but you. I almost died when me and 'Milne ran into you in the bookshop."

Harry felt his face turning red, and curse his pale skin, "I...um..that was so bad, I can't believe what I was doing." He sighed, "I earn it could have been worse though, right?"

Ron nodded, "Definitely, you could have become some sort of bigot like Draco, you still seemed like you, just...more Malfoyish."

Harry put his face in his hands, " I can't believe I'm Draco Malfoy's brother," he said, "I accepted it before, but it's so much stranger living it."

"The worst part is I find myself feeling bad for Draco. Lucius Malfoy really is as horrid as he appeared, and…" Suddenly he trailed off, then shot back to his feet, "Ron! VOldemort was there, I saw him, he was at the Malfoy's"

"Woah," Ron said, "He's there!"

"Well," Harry said, "Not anymore, he left sometime after I appeared, I don't know where he went, but I found out how I ended up with the Potters."

"How?" Ron asked.

"From what I've figured out I was taken by Bellatrix Lestrange and brought to a manor as a sacrifice to Voldemort, but there was a raid and I was found by James Potter. I makes sense."

"Blimey," Ron said, "That's insane," then he cast a tempus and his eyes widened.

"Mater, we better be getting back to...our dorms, but I have no idea how we are going to play this to our housemates."

Harry shrugged, "I don't know, I suppose we're in different houses now, I can't believe I'm wearing this," he pointed to the Slytherin crest on his shirt, "so maybe we can say we got into a fight?"

"That's brilliant, "Ron said, "we can go to the hospital wing for a headache potion for you, and knowing Madame Pomfrey she'll insist you stay the night, so you'll have an excuse for why you weren't in your dorm last night"

The two looked outside the door and crept up to the hospital wing, and Ron threw a hex at Antonius that turned his skin purple before bolting off to Gryffindor tower, pulling the invisibility cloak over him as he went. Harry felt angry that he forgot to get his cloak back, then decided to figure it out later and he went into the hospital wing.

He looked over to Madame Pomfrey, and said, "Excuse me miss," suddenly he coughed and put on the accent he had been taught, "I was hexed."

He paused, but then Madame Pomfrey appeared, took one look at his and sighed, "It's the first day and I already have a patient, come on Mr. Malfoy, let's get you fixed up."

He followed her over to a hospital bed, and sat down until she came back with a potion, and said, "Drink this, then stay here for the night so I can observe you, do you need anything else?"

Antonius nodded, "My head is hurting quite a bit."

She nodded and came back with another potion, "Take this, it should relieve the worst of the headache." She turned to go into the back room, but not before saying, "You're lucky it's the first day, otherwise I wouldn't be nearly as lenient. I won't even bother to ask what happened to you."

He thought about what was happening, and then realized he wasn't playing quidditch anymore. Antonius sighed, and tried to make himself comfortable on the hospital bed, it wasn't as nice as his bed in...well, now it would be the Slytherin dorm, but at least he would have a night before returning he would have to confront Draco. God, what he going to do.

He thought about telling his brother, but then decided that it wasn't worth it, after all, his brother still believed wholeheartedly in blood superiority. And with his devotion to Lucius. No, there was no possible way.

He couldn't believe he had ever called Lucius his father, that man was callous and cruel, and while he may care slightly for his family he was aloof and was never there for Draco. Antonius didn't need him, but Draco constantly sought lucius' approval, and Antonius decided this needed to stop. If his brother continued down this path he could end up a slave to Voldemort.

Then and there Antonius made it his mission to turn his brother against Voldemort, after all, if he convinced Draco he could convince the other Slytherins, and maybe they could lose their bad reputation, he was, after all, one of them. Now. It was going to be strange to look at the great hall from the other side of the room. It was all so surreal, it was probably the calming potion that was stopping him from having a complete breakdown right now.

He figured he could deal with his pent up emotions later. Right now he needed to rest He soon drifted off into an uneasy sleep.