Harry Potter: Dark Lord, Loving Father
Chapter 10: Degrees of Corruption
Harry awoke to find himself surrounded by silk -- green silk with silver trim, to be exact. 'Very Slytherin,' was his first thought. His second thought sprang upon him when peering at the nearby clock: 'Oh, bloody hell, I'm going to be late for class!"
The wizard rushed to hastily shed his night clothes, replacing them with fresh undergarments, socks, a tunic, leggings, and his boots (all of his clothing, he noted, was black, assorted shades of green and grey -- he didn't even want to think about what that meant), gathering his books and shoving a quill and a bottle of ink into the inner pocket of his robes, rushing out of the dorms like a bat out of hell. He ran as fast as his thin frame would allow, knowing he'd be late to his class with Godric.
"Wait..." he breathed, stopping in his tracks, hurriedly glancing around himself, confused, then kicked himself. "I haven't got the time for this nonsense!" he berated himself and continued running down the hallway to the classroom, robes billowing behind him as he ran.
Swinging open the door, Harry noticed every single pair or eyes was fixated on him, scrutinizing him.
"You are nearly twenty minutes late, Master Slytherin -- detention tonight, here, after dinner, and twenty points from the Slytherin House for each minute," the redheaded professor detailed, scorn in his voice and eyes.
Hesitantly, Harry sat down in the seat next to his fellow Slytherin, Alexander Malfoy, who scowled at him something fierce, seeming to say, 'way to go, just another reason to loose points' with his eyes.
The green-eyed wizard mouthed a 'sorry' at his blonde friend, trying to calm himself down, taking out the quill and ink from his robes, and the parchment from the inside of one of his textbooks, beginning to copy off of Alexander's notes from what he'd missed, hating the lesson in Transfiguration already.
"What's with Gryffindor?" Harry asked of his friend once the class was dismissed.
"It seems as though it would have something to do with your mother, Hadrian," Alexander replied, his bright blue eyes assessing Hadrian closely. "You had another bout of insomnia, didn't you?"
"Yeah," Hadrian admitted with a sigh. "I can not believe that you failed to wake me, Alexander."
"Believe me, I tried -- you sleep like a rock."
"Like I truly believe tha--" Hadrian's retort began, cutting himself off. "I need to go see my mother," he determined, taking off, leaving his friend alone in the hallway.
"See you later," the Malfoy called, far too used to Hadrian's quirks to be stunned any more.
When Hadrian arrived outside of his mother's door, he heard talking behind the door, which kept him from knocking....
"Rowena! You must keep that boy of yours in line better. He's exactly like Salazar was; uses the excuse of insomnia as a reason he's allowed to be late to classes, defiant to adults, breaking all sorts of rules--!" Godric seethed, very aggravated by the Ravenclaw woman.
"It's not my fault that you cannot control such a child, Gryffindor. Don't forget that you are the one playing the role of his father and you've helped me raise him from the beginning," came Rowena's sharp retort.
"How can you stand having him be so much like Salazar, after all he did to you?!"
"Hadrian is my son, no matter who his father is -- and how can I stop him from being who he is? You said it yourself: he's defiant -- he's at that age, you must realize."
"I suppose, but really, Rowena.... Slytherin raped you and yet you keep his child and let him go down nearly the same path as his father tread."
Beginning to be sick to his stomach, Hadrian pushed off of the wall, running to his dorm room, shutting himself in. What on earth was Gryffindor talking about? He'd thought his father was dead....
A year later found Hadrian studying in a dark cave in the mountains of the North with his father, learning about how to cast moderately hard curses and charms. It'd been a rather rough year after Hadrian had finally confronted his father, gaining much more than he had expected to: he'd set out to kill this man he'd believed to be unbelievably cruel and horrible, only to find out that his father wasn't at all like what he'd heard. The young man had taken well to the way Salazar taught him -- no wonder the other, newer professors always revered him, despite becoming a Dark Lord. No one would be able to catch Godric saying anything positive about the Slytherin founder, however, since he'd felt betrayed -- that was his father's explanation, at least.
In the beginning, Hadrian was taught the basics of charms and some other helpful spells that weren't in the curriculum at Hogwarts any longer -- likely due to his father's leaving the school. After proving his ability to perform these particular spells, Salazar began adding hexes and low-level curses to the mix, providing ample time for Hadrian to practice and commit them all to memory before moving onto much more interesting and slightly more complicated magic.
At last, after much anticipation, Hadrian's father finally introduced him to borderline Dark Arts, which were often considered more beneficial than they did harm, although they were most often grouped with the more unfriendly spells due to the nature of their creation and implementation. Hadrian couldn't help the deep-seated feeling of wanting to learn more and more as Salazar gave him more texts to read about spells and theories.....
It was with this horrible burning in the innermost part of his being that the Slytherin Heir woke to the real world, confused and lost. "Oh, Merlin," Harry moaned, clenching his teeth to fight off the temptation he was faced with. "What did you do to me, Malfoy!?" he demanded, eyes blazing darkly in the dungeon light.
"I would ask Salazar," the blonde replied, fully dressed, drinking a cup of tea comfortably in the chair near the bed. "After all, he was the one that gave me the ingredients to the potion."
"My father?" he mouthed, groaning, lying back down in the bed. "What does he want?" he grumbled, sneering at the ceiling.
"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Draco snorted in reply, his tone not nearly as harsh as normal, as he preferred to stay mentally sane. Followed by a fierce glare from his master, the blonde sighed and admitted: "He did say something about wanting to make you remember what's important."
"Hn," Harry retorted, frowning. "Will this happen every night?" he asked instead of returning with one of the many slights at his follower.
Draco nodded curtly, meeting Harry's eyes, his silver ones not daring to express any sort of emotion. "Yes," he said, simply, returning to straightening his book shelves, reordering the books.
The Slytherin Heir's eyes blazed with darkness as he stared back at his fautor, seething with repressed anger. "I won't let you get away with this, unpunished, Malfoy," he hissed, rising out of the bed, striding over to the washroom after gathering his teaching robes.
Night surrounded them, engulfing them completely, only a tall, dark robed man stood in the clearing, his bloody lips forming into a thin smile, showing a flash of teeth in the pale moonlight. Soon, others (similarly dressed) came closer, bowing to the man in the centre. After a few minutes, he addressed the crowd:
"My dear fautor, you have come here tonight for a reason and I bring you joyous news," he announced, motioning to the men before him with his long hands, gracefully, his voice deep and strong. "Behold, we have succeeded in the slaughter of two of our worst enemies: Ronald Weasely and his sister, Ginerva."
Upon hearing such an announcement, the gathered congregation whispered excitedly, their faces alight with wicked smiles. Their leader's countenance similarly twisted into a sadistic smirk, his black eyes gleaming in pleasure, recalling the screams he'd wrung out of the two siblings, killing them slowly. First, he'd used a rather interesting spell he'd learned in his 6th year in school, cutting their skin and muscles to shreds with the Elder Wand's power, blood splattering across the Chamber's floor. After drinking in the sight and screams of the two pleading for their lives, the Slytherin Heir had raised his wand once more to cast his spell, his smile twisting into a rather insane look, his eyes the reflecting the colour of the blood flowing like rivers in the grooves of the stones....
"Ginny!!" Harry screamed, waking to find himself covered in sweat, his breath coming in short gasps. "Oh, Merlin," he whispered, looking around himself, paling as the others in the room stared at him. "I'm sorry," Harry began, straightening himself in his chair.
"P-professor, a-are you... you all right?" came a voice, weak and afraid, but much too close to him.
"I think I will be," he muttered, standing shakily, trying to move through the crowd of students that were hovering around him. Harry needed air desperately, feeling very claustrophobic at the moment, nearly about to faint. "Please, let me..." he panted, the world spinning around him, making him close his eyes temporarily, "I need air... please."
Whispers of "Professor?" and "Is he going to be okay?" floated to his ears, making him desire freedom from the mob even more desperate and fierce.
"Get away!" Harry hissed at the lot of them, his head spinning, opening his eyes to glare at the students. Smith was the only one that was still in his seat, as always, watching in mild curiosity, relaxed in his chair, his blue eyes cold and calculating.
Once Harry's eyes met the Slytherin boy's, he couldn't help but relaxing as memories of days lying in the grass practicing quidditch came to his mind. Realizing what he was doing, the older wizard shook himself, shoving the students out of his way as he raced into the hallway, spilling the contents of his stomach onto the stones, one hand steadying himself against the wall with one hand. Harry spelled the mess away quickly with a mutter of a spell, cursing himself, forcing his legs to move in the direction of the nearest empty room or bathroom. Before he got another meter away from the door to his classroom, the world spun once again, weakness spreading throughout his body, blackness overtaking him.
"You bloody fool," Malfoy growled, looking down at him, the scowl evident of his displeasure with his lord. "You took too much of the potion," he explained, crossing his arms, glaring at Harry.
"Ugh, wha...?" the green-eyed wizard grumbled, sitting up cautiously.
"It was all a nightmare," he told Harry, holding out a mug with a rather suspicious-looking, thick liquid in it for the other man to take. "You did manage to stay rather calm despite that, though," the blonde commented, somewhat impressed.
"...You mean... Ginny's still alive?" he murmured, eyes widening, remembering all that he'd done to her in his nightmare -- all the blood.
Was it wrong for him to be so excited over imagining such a scene? Harry began fearing that the part of him that was Hadrian was too easily consuming him, much too fast, corrupting him more than he felt necessary. After all, he wasn't yet ready to become a Dark Lord quite yet. Fear of turning into something much like Voldemort was more realistic than ever before, the echo of red eyes from his dream flashing before him.
"What are you asking--" Draco began to ask when realization hit him, taken aback. "You mean, you...?"
"Yeah," he whispered, feeling worlds apart, taking the potion angrily from the Potion's Master, downing it with some effort. "I didn't think that such a potion could do such a thing," Harry mumbled, a bit dizzy.
"No wonder you took too much," Draco remarked, mostly to himself, taking the cup back from the brunette, cradling it in his pale hands, examining it, feeling dazed. To think that his master would dream of such things so soon? And for it to be easily shaken off as it had been.... It was a sign that it wouldn't be too long until Salazar would get his answer.
Well, this was an interesting chapter, yes? I got stuck on the middle, wondering how I should continue, not wanting the entire chapter being Hadrian's summery account of his life, of course -- that'd be rather dull. Thank you to Moggle (Boogum) and Grae (KouenTaisa) for ideas and to the bands: ASP, Edge of Dawn, and Within Temptation for inspiration.
The voting for pairings is over: Daphne is the winner! I have begun plotting on how the Draco-obsessed professor will eventually be tempted by our future Dark Lord and will likely make its beginning in either the next chapter or the twelfth. I have put up links to some drawings I have done of Hadrian, Salazar, and Harry, if you'd like to get an idea of how I envision them.
Tell me what you think of this chapter and whatever ideas you have for me, as always. Questions are always welcomed, as well, and I will do my best to get back to you on them.