: speech : is Parseltongue
/ speech / is mental speak
*Harry has been attempting to lay low for ~1 year...*
The large grey wolf with one red eye and one green tore the throat out of the yet larger tan wolf, then spun to avoid the attack from a sleek black she-wolf. He spit the mauled flesh from his mouth and crunched down on her skull, crushing it with a satisfying crackling crunch.
The wolf spit again and then rubbed his muzzle with paws and tongue before shaking himself out and turning back into a small boy.
"I must say, that is absolutely the best way to kill a werewolf." Harry said with no small amount of satisfaction. Voldemort glowed inside him in perfect agreement. "The irony is perfectly wonderful, and the chance of contracting the illness nil." He waved his hand at the two bodies, causing them to burn with such fierce energy that he had to close his eyes; the painful heat was too intense for his tears to protect him. When the white glare died down there wasn't so much as a scorch mark to indicate that there had ever been anything there.
Harry sighed and stepped back within the confines of the Fidelius charm. The werewolves couldn't pin his exact location down, but they could all sense him. Apparently ripping the beating heat out of the head of the British werewolf pack had made him the new Alpha. Of course. Nothing ever happened to Harry in half measures, nor Voldemort for that matter. Together their luck was truly cataclysmic.
Usually Harry ignored the werewolves pacing about the town slavering after his blood, so long as they were discreet about it. That particular mated pair, however, had been anything but. They hadn't taken their Wolfsbane and had instead gone on a merry rampage. Or would have, anyway, if Harry hadn't come out of the cheery garden to deal with them.
/Can we kill the others, too?: Voldemort asked hopefully.
"No." Harry replied, not bothering to speak mentally now that everyone knew he had a 'friend upstairs' as Jeff put it. Especially since they could all tell when he was think-speaking with Voldemort anyway and would demand to know what they were saying. "Some of them are here to just to see what their new Master intends." Some part of Harry felt immensely pleased with the concept of 'Master' and he resolved to cuddle with Myrtle for a good half hour tonight. Voldemort still had pained shudders at prolonged physical contact with others that did not involve torture, though he seemed to becoming more immune to it. And he was totally immune to the mental caresses, though Harry was happy enough to stop those, as they felt really weird for him as well. Harry wondered if his 'punishments' of physical hugs would become as ineffective, and whether that would be a success and battle won in humanizing Voldemort, or just another expression of him being the penultimate Slytherin.
/I don't see why not. That would satisfy both blood lust and your annoying needs to 'save people' and do 'good deeds'.: Voldemort pouted, curling his awareness into Harry's left arm so that he could pick the petals off a violet.
Harry swatted Voldemort out of his arm, but continued to maul the flower. "They aren't all bad. I think at least some of them were never human, actually. Wouldn't it be interesting if werewolves could become a separate species entirely?"
"Harry!" Myrtle's voice called from the house, cheerfully oblivious that her adoptive son had killed three beings today- only one of which was a plant. "Lunch!"
Harry got to his feet and walked slowly back to the house. He could have flashed there in an instant, but that both scared others and didn't let him enjoy the smells of the garden. "Stop and smell the roses, indeed." Harry muttered.
"There you are, dear." Myrtle said fondly, using the edge of her apron to wipe something off Harry's face. He was momentarily worried, but saw that it was merely dirt. Harry took in a deep breath and savored the scent of cinnamon.
"Muffins?" Harry asked hopefully.
"That's right. Your favorite: pumpkin banana." Myrtle smiled.
Harry grinned and accepted the warm fresh-out-of-the-oven muffin from the witch and pulled off a steaming piece and popped it into his mouth.
"Don't ruin your appetite- you have a real lunch right here."
Harry nodded and hopped up into the chair that was still too tall for his legs to do anything but dangle and swing. He tugged his napkin out from under his rat, who gave him a baleful glare before going back to her nap, and put the muffin on top of it before tucking in. Lunch today was battered fish patties and broccoli. The vegetables were charmed into dinosaur shapes that tried to attack each other when they weren't trying to escape from the fish-stick corral or his fork. "You know you don't have to charm my food, Myrtle." Harry said with fond amusement. He bit off the head of a Broccoli-saurus Rex and chewed it happily.
"Oh nonsense. Everyone likes their broccoli better when it's fighting them."
Harry snorted. It certainly was better than biting the heads off of werewolves, anyway, so far as the taste was concerned. For satisfaction and enjoyability, though? Maybe not.
Myrtle sat down across the table from him, looking serious. Harry raised a brow at her. "Tomorrow the Ministry is coming back to take a look at you, Harry." Harry just kept eating his lunch, not wanting the muffin to cool of entirely before he finished. "It's almost time for the next school year."
Harry regarded her calmly. He and Voldemort had been on their best behavior since the Chamber incident. Harry didn't regret destroying the books, even though they had been the only chance he had to possibly separate himself from Voldemort. Chances were, they hadn't had any useful information for him, especially since the divine powers had essentially told him they had set up the whole situation on purpose. It was much more important for this world to remain free of any Voldemort-like Horucrux situations. The whole business was simply too messy to abide. Wizards and witches had enough to worry about just with magic such as the Unforgivables and the ridiculously vast array of potions and poisons and Dark Creatures.
"If they decide you can't go to school again, you'll always have a place here."
"Thank you." Harry sighed. "It's entirely possible that they never will." He shrugged, though Myrtle looked pained at the statement. "I don't blame them. I either have a mass murderer from another realm trapped inside my head via deepest Dark magics, or I'm a delusional reincarnation of the same." He sighed and speared the Stega-broccoli-saurus with his fork and bit it in half. "And even if they didn't know that part, I still wouldn't trust me in a school full of children."
"Oh, Harry." Myrtle sighed.
"Don't worry. I'm used to it." He paused with an odd expression on his face. "Actually we're used to it. I'll try to keep all our reactions more in line with what I ended up doing, though."
If anything this seemed to upset Myrtle more.
"It's ok, really. I mean, by the time I actually look eleven maybe the world will be used to me." Harry thought about it with some distaste. In the past year he had grown so little that the magical tape measurer had simply tssked at him and told him to eat more. But he was growing; growing very very slowly. He would not be stuck as a child for the rest of eternity… just for the next thirty years or so. "Hey, everyone always complains that they're kids grow up too fast, right?" Harry tried to joke as he saw Myrtle's eyes starting to mist up.
However, the joke fell flat and apparently was the last straw so far as Myrtle's mothering instincts were concerned. He found himself half-suffocating in a warm hug. Voldemort gave a half-hearted grumble in the back of Harry's mind, but knew it was useless to protest. "We haven't explored all the options yet, Harry dear. Tom is working on some very promising leads right now… why, just your presence has inspired six breakthroughs in the subjects of soul magic, Arithmancy and how we deal with ghosts… It's only a matter of time."
"Mmff." Harry tried to respond, but he was being too thoroughly smothered.
OOoOoOoOOoo
Harry was hiding behind a bush, his magical powers tucked as close to his body as possible, his ears straining to catch the slightest noise.
"Got you!"
"Ahhh!" Harry screamed, startled, falling onto his face when he tried to stand on legs that had gone to sleep.
"Haha! You're so grammatic, Harry."
Harry rolled over and sent up a half-hearted glare at the young girl, a Squib who looked suspiciously like a Malfoy. "I think you mean 'dramatic', Elly."
"That's what I said." She replied primly, nose in the air and looking even more strongly like the aristocratic purebloods.
Harry sighed and flung his hands out as dramatically as possible, earning a giggle from the little girl. "I suppose this means I'm it?"
"Yup."
Harry watched her scamper off before closing his eyes and counting to ten at the top of his lungs.
/Why are we doing this?: Voldemort asked with more bemusement than annoyance. He asked the same question every afternoon when the other orphans, cast-a-ways and seized children came back from the mixed Muggle and magical prep school and it was a nice enough day outside to run in the gardens.
"You know you enjoy it, you old shoelace." Harry muttered in between nine and three quarters and nine and four fifths. "Ten!" He leapt up and smack into the chest of a surprised Auror. "Oof!" Harry complained as he bounced off and landed back on his butt.
/This would be precisely the reason that we shouldn't tuck all our magic inside to play foolish games.:
/It's not fair otherwise, and besides, it's not like they can hurt us./ Harry replied mentally as he looked the Auror over.
"Were you just talking to yourself?" The wizard asked, his eyes narrowing. "They told me about the slightly vacant look and the sparkles."
Harry winced. He had been hoping to fool him, having never seen the Auror before. "Just talking about the game." A twinkle came into Harry's eyes. He rushed forward (with absolutely normal child's speed) and poked the wizard in the side. "You're it!"
The wizard stared at him like he was completely nuts. Which, considering all he'd been doing for a year was playing with children, physically tearing apart werewolves and reading stuffy books on magical theory… well, it was entirely possible.
"You're supposed to count to ten." Harry said helpfully, trying for an innocent look but pretty sure he was smirking. The wizard ran his wand over where Harry had touched him suspiciously. Harry turned away and yelled, "The new 'it' is refusing their lofty position!"
A baker's dozen heads popped up from various hiding places- one surprising Harry by being behind a tuft of grass not five feet away from them.
/That child has the makings of a great assassin.: Voldemort hissed approvingly in Harry's mind. Harry rolled his eyes and watched the riotous band of kids attack the Auror, most clinging to his legs or robes.
"What?" The Auror said, looking down in bewilderment.
"It's the rules. If you don't play the game properly, it becomes reverse-it." Harry said matter of factly. The Auror glared at him. "Don't blame me, it was Bill's idea." Harry said, nodding to a tan boy missing his front teeth.
"Harry!" Myrtle's scandalized shout brought Harry's attention back toward the house.
"Yeees?" Harry said, drawing the word out and smirking.
"All of you go get changed. It's almost time for dinner." Myrtle shooed the children from their perches on the bemused law enforcement agent and back into the house. She turned back to Harry, who was attempting to look guileless again, but still pretty sure he was failing to look anything but mischievous. "What are you doing?" She asked in exasperation.
"Trying to reclaim a childhood that was taken away from me in three separate lifetimes by engaging in harmless fun?"
"Oh, you." She smiled, swatting him and shooing him toward the house as well. "The Ministry has seen fit to come a day early." Harry looked up at her worried face and reached out a small hand to hers and gave her hand a slight squeeze before dropping it.
Harry found the various Ministry officials seated around their large living room. Tom was standing in a corner scowling. Harry felt the prickle of magic on the back of his head and saw Dumbledore in the opposite corner, eyeing him warily. The children's examiner Mr. Krimp was in the middle, with various Aurors and officials standing and sitting, all facing a chair by Tom that was empty. Harry went and sat in it.
Mr. Krimp cleared his throat and looked at Harry calmly. "Hello, Harry."
Harry waved. "Hi."
Mr Krimp held up a piece of paper and started reading off of it. "Harry O'Donnell, proven dark artifact of class Horucrux, age unknown, male, under custody of Tom Riddle and Myrtle O'Donnell. Power level is over nine thousand."
Harry looked at the man curiously. When all he got was a questioning stare, he nodded.
"We have reviewed what you have been doing for the last year. Would you like to say it in your own words?"
Harry shrugged. "Playing around and reading old books, mainly." He grimaced at the last part. As interesting as they were, especially with Voldemort to add more enthusiasm to the words, he still couldn't believe how much of it he had been doing.
"Are you aware that there is a rapidly diminishing population of werewolves after the attack on the Ministry and they all claim that you are their alpha?"
Harry this time put actual effort into his expression and succeeded on pulling off completely surprised innocence. "What's that mean?"
"That they are idiots." Tom grumbled from behind Harry, making him smirk.
Mr. Krimp merely nodded and continued with his questions. "Have you been in contact with any dragons?"
Harry blinked, this time not having to try to look innocent. He had no idea why they were asking that. "No."
"Centaurs?"
Harry looked at the guy narrowly. "No…"
"Other non-humans?"
"You guys take this human/ non-human thing way to seriously. Though I guess if you are being so genial to the Muggle-borns something else had to fill the gap in bigotry." Harry mused.
"Harry!" Tom hissed from behind him, though he sounded as pleased under the anger as the other version of his soul who was hissing happily inside Harry.
"So you have not been in contact with any non-humans?"
"I haven't left the grounds." Harry frowned, though he had. But they didn't need to know that.
"Just answer the question, Harry." Tom said, sounding a bit stressed.
"No, not unless you count the animals out in the gardens." Harry said, raising an eyebrow.
"That is good." Dumbledore said, stepping forward. Mr. Krimp looked a bit put out, but didn't comment as the Headmaster took over. "We want you- both of you- to swear that you will never act in a way that compromises the Greater Good."
Harry glared at the meddling old coot, though inside (deep, deep inside, far below where Voldemort went when hiding) he was amused. "I will do no such thing."
"A Wizard's Oath is the only way…" Dumbledore started.
"Oh, no, it's a brilliant idea." Harry interrupted, making the old wizard even more annoyed with him. "In fact, possibly the only idea that will work." He took a moment to consider the possibilities of using his own magic to bind himself. Really, it was the only way. He was simply too strong otherwise.
"Then…"
"I object to the terms of the Oath, not giving one in general." Harry interrupted Albus again, making the old wizard's eye start to twitch. "Many truly horrendous things have been done in the name of the 'Greater Good.' I've lived through one such consequence." Harry said, leaning back into the plush chair. "It's a great idea, but it will have to be handled very carefully. Very Slytherin, if you will."
Dumbledore's magic started to inflate about him, giving him the air of an enraged bird of some sort. Harry would have been more impressed if he hadn't already seen the best the wizard could do in a much more dire circumstance.
/That's a better idea than setting us up to be chained not only together, but to a promise we cannot break for all eternity.: Voldemory hissed. He seemed simply panicked at the thought of an Oath, which made Harry want to swear one all the more.
/What is a better idea?/ Harry asked, confused.
"Psiotranlatus!" Dumbledore cast at Harry. Harry was so surprised at the sudden attack and Voldemort so interested in the intriguing power in the spell that they let it affect them.
Dumbledore looked entirely too pleased with himself, especially when Tom let out a grunt. Harry turned around to look at him, worried. Tom had backed up to the wall and was clutching his chest. Harry got out of the chair and moved to the center of the room until Tom's face cleared, though Harry's frown had grown considerably. Tom hadn't had this sort of reaction to him in months.
"What an intriguing spell! Soul magic, true, but so Light that it's almost unbearable." Harry looked around to see who had said that, but found everyone but Dumbledore looking at him strangely. "Why…" the voice cut off suddenly and Harry felt strangely off balance. He realized it was because his arm was raising just as his lips started to move and the voice said "Avada…"
Harry clamped his teeth shut and grabbed his left arm with his right so that it was pointing at the floor. "What did you do?" Harry asked Dumbledore, annoyed.
"He got around that annoying Parselmouth conundrum. I thank you, you doddering old fool. Now we're… no I'm one step closer to returning to my rightful place." Harry's mouth said.
"I simply made it so that you would be unable to have private discussions when we should be able to hear them." Dumbledore said, looking unruffled and grandfatherly.
"So you thought it a good idea to give the ability to cast spells to a megalomaniac that murdered more people than he or I can ever know?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Well, now is the time to propose my plan for settling this whole thing." Voldemort said cheerfully. Well, as 'cheerful' as he ever got. Harry had an unsettling feeling of blood lust sweep over him, rather than actual happiness.
"Oh, no you don't!" Harry growled, wrestling with Voldemort and the spell that was cast on them. "Any 'good idea' of yours needs to be thrown out just on principle!"
"Harry, you ruin all our fun. You already stopped me from killing the doddering old fool." Voldemort sneered. Harry despaired that he looked like he was having some sort of stroke. Given the way most of the wizards and witches were backing up and hiding behind furniture, at least he looked scary, not pathetic.
"Do you see what he is? Now he can no longer hide his true perversion!" Dumbledore sad jubilantly.
Harry's vision went a bit red along the sides, and not because Voldemort was taking over, either. "You short-sighted, stuck up, arrogant, interfering washed-up has-been!" Harry roared, clenching his fists so that he didn't send a killing curse the Headmaster's way. "Are you happy now? You've made me actually dangerous rather than just potentially dangerous, all to prove your Merlin forsaken point!" A little voice in his head, which disturbingly could no longer be Voldemort, pointed out that an immortal child who could crush werewolf skulls before lunch wasn't exactly a model citizen. Since it wasn't actually another person, Harry ignored it.
"It was all in the interest of the Greater Good." Dumbledore said calmly.
"Oooh!" Harry was incoherent with rage for a good five seconds, so mad he didn't even notice that he had pushed Voldemort back and had the spell half reversed. "You!" He ground his teeth together, biting back hexes. "Outside, now!"
Voldemort laughed in glee, this time out loud and in English, so most of the room was graced with the sound, and it chilled them to their bones. "Excellent, Harry. Use your aggresive feelings! Let the hate flow through us." He raised their hand and pointed to Dumbledore. Harry was not too far gone that he would have allowed Voldemort to cast a spell. Well, not one that was harmful. Or maybe, just so long as the damage wasn't too permanent. However, hexing the Headmaster, though extremely tempting, was not what Voldemort was intending at the moment. "You heard the boy. We challenge you to a duel. You will see the futility of trying to force us to do anything, and be grateful for Harry's restraint. Perhaps you will soon realize the extent to which I am willing to go."
Dumbledore had a satisfied gleam in his eye, and the two of them realized it was because the Headmaster felt that he was being proven right. And maybe he was. But there was only so much suspicion the two of them could take, especially as only Harry had any experience ignoring it, and both of them were heartily sick of the reaction.
"Oh, stop looking so cocky, Albus. We all know that you basically helped the previous Dark Lord plan his rise to power over the corpse of your own sister. Don't try to act all high and mighty with us. Only a quirk of fate spared you from raising the next one in this world, but we remember how thoroughly you failed us. Perhaps if we had gone back far enough into the past and murdered you in your sleep the lives of three neglected boys would be spared." Harry said, or maybe it was Voldemort. They were both so mad at the Headmaster- both versions, for very similar reasons.
The Headmaster suddenly looked worn out and old, though his righteous anger kept him from going completely pale. He ended up with a chalk white face with two high spots of color on his suddenly prominent cheek bones. Seeing the Headmaster like that- almost like he had looked as he died, was enough to get Harry and Voldemort to shred apart a bit. Voldemort remembered the image with pleasure and satisfaction, whereas Harry recalled it as one of the worst moments in his life.
"Fine." Dumbledore said finally, his eyes hard and flat.
A/N- So I know I said I was going to try to finish this by the end of the (last) year. I did finish a story, just not this story. When the muse strikes, eh? I got reviews for the other one, and an idea popped into my head…