Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Any original plots, ideas, and characters are mine.
AN:
I hope you enjoyed all the festivities!
I did myself *chuckles* but at last I'm finally posting the update! To make up for the long wait, this is a juicy chapter that I hope you fully enjoy.
Thanks to all reviewers of last chapter too, you always keep me motivated! ;)
Now, it seems only one issue needs to be clarified. What happened when Tom killed Mr. Jenkins with the Avada Kedavra Curse was that his soul was split for the first time. This is what the Horcrux in Harry felt, that's why Harry felt such things in reaction – the Horcrux within 'recalling', so to speak, and relating the experience to the one of the day when it had been created, making Harry see flashes of Voldermort killing Lily Evans, the green light, the red eyes, etc, etc. The pain Harry experienced was the remembered pain of the Horcrux, since surely having been ripped apart from Voldemort's soul couldn't have been a pleasant experience.
Furthermore, what Tom felt was his own soul splitting for the first time, at the same time that he witnessed Harry's reaction, so now he's suspicious. We know he realized at some point that Harry's scar and the way it reacts to Tom, means that it is a magical scar, the remnants of some curse, though Tom has tried to find explanations in books and has failed. Even though he now suspects much, and knows about Horcruxes since his first trip to Diagon Alley, for him to jump to the conclusion that there are two timelines and that Harry is the horcrux of his other self in the future, that's quite a stretch of the imagination that Tom won't be making in some time.
Warning: Slight slash content. Don't like, skip.
Note: As always, anything in Italics is a foreign language, namely, German and Parseltongue in this chapter.
Part I: Chapter 55
"Where are we?" breathed out Harry perplexed as he found himself before wrought-iron gates depicting two battling dragons.
A few moments ago they had been standing in the midst of fleeing crowds in the docks of London, saying their goodbyes to the chauffeur Peterson. It was evident that the servants had been told that 'Lord Aschcroft' and his two newly adopted sons were travelling to America, to begin their education regarding Ashcroft's businesses in that continent.
Apparently, that was the cover story for their departure from England. Yet before they could even step into a ship bound for America, the glamoured Konrad Von Krauss had taken hold of Harry and Tom and they had been pulled into a Side-Along Apparition.
At present, Harry found himself in what looked like the middle of a dense forest of pine trees, before a gigantic dome of wards that glittered before his eyes, shooting up to the skies, spreading to either sides, covering an immense area, as if protecting and hiding a whole town it seemed, with only the wrought-iron gates visible at front, as if incrusted in the dome.
Harry couldn't really tell what was inside, as powerful and ancient as the wards looked, glowing so brightly that nothing could be seen through them.
"We are near Berlin," replied Von Krauss curtly, all his glamours dispelled, as he raised a hand. "This is the main Von Krauss estate. Henceforth, your home."
At that motion, the iron-wrought head of a dragon creaked as it turned to face the wizard, unfurling from the gate as a spiked tongue shot out from the figure's maw.
The German wizard didn't even flinch as the palm of his hand was cut by one of the metallic protrusions of the tongue that licked it.
A second later, Von Krauss dropped his hand as the dragon merged back into the gate as it opened.
Harry blinked, bemused, as they followed the wizard inside the dome of magical wards. The first thing he saw was a carriage awaiting for them, drawn by magnificent, white winged horses, in the middle of a meandering path surrounded by trees.
At that, Harry excitedly entered the carriage with satchel and Ulysses' basket in hands, as he eyed the Pegasi at front with much interest and giddy excitement.
Alas, their carriage moved forward along the pebbled path once they were settled, the winged horses pulling it with a dainty trot instead of going airborne as he had hoped.
Although disappointed, his interest was soon captured by the scenery. They were crossing a vast estate: he could see smatterings of woods at either side, which became an array of gardens as they moved forward - though they looked unkempt, with wild ferns growing here and there, the grass tall, yellowish and disorderly, many bloomed flowers withered from lack of watering, amidst several garden statues weather-beaten, stained or broken.
Everything seemed sadly neglected, even the vast castle they were approaching – because it had to be a castle, despite how it looked a tad decrepit, given how large it was, especially since it was surrounded by a moat so wide that it was worthy of being called a lake.
As their carriage came closer, a bridge lowered by itself, its rusty chains clanking noisily.
Harry noticed that Von Krauss' expression was pained and bitter as the wizard contemplated his ill-kept property.
He vaguely wondered about it as the carriage came to a sudden halt.
As the carriage faded into the distance once they descended, Harry eyed the castle before him more attentively, craning his neck back.
Its front doors were as immense as Hogwarts', though made of iron instead of dark wood. He could see countless towers and turrets, with the same coat of arms etched in stone here and there, depicting ornate V's and K's intertwined together, amongst fierce-looking gargoyles perched on every ledge and cranny – gargoyles that shifted to look down at him.
And frightful things they were, making Harry shudder as he was pierced by hideous, stone eyes. Clearly, the castle had been built to be imposing, menacing and intimidating instead of beautiful.
The heavy iron doors parted open with a wave of Von Krauss' hand, and Harry quickly trailed after the wizard.
"Elf!" snapped Von Krauss in a brisk German as soon as they entered the foyer.
Instantly, an old, withered house-elf popped before them, bowing low, pressing large, pointy nose to the stone floors, as it awaited further instructions.
Harry eyed the creature curiously. It looked nothing like the healthy, well-fed house-elves in Hogwarts. It was very old, emaciated, and haggardly dressed, with a spotless yet threadbare pillowcase worn like a toga, the piteous creature looking about to keel over from weakness and starvation. There were even burns and bruises on the house-elf's sickly pale skin, Harry noticed with a wince.
"Take their belongings to their appointed chambers," commanded Von Krauss shortly.
Harry jumped, as his satchel and Ulysses' basket abruptly disappeared with a snap of the house-elf's fingers, before the creature vanished without a word.
"You have the liberty to explore and make use of my estate," began Konrad Von Krauss as he stalked down a corridor, "as long as you do not attempt to leave it. Call for a house-elf if there is anything you require-"
"What are their names?" interjected Harry as he hurried after the wizard, glancing around.
The interior of the castle didn't look as forsaken as the gardens, everything impeccably clean, though there were signs of detrition nonetheless. Vast carpets that looked frayed and greyish instead of brightly colorful, suits of armors that cranked their heads to follow their path whose metal didn't shine as if new but were rather muted and corroded, chandeliers with crystals that were opaque or broken, and countless of threadbare tapestries, displaying moving scenes like a wizard battling a dragon, another that looked to be representing some event in a Goblin War, and many having to deal with grotesquely tortured muggles, burning in pyres or silently screaming under a wizard's wand.
The only things that seemed to have been under constant maintenance and repair were the numerous portraits hanging all around the castle - portraits of undoubtedly Von Krauss ancestors given that most were blonde and blue-eyed, as they muttered amongst themselves, shooting Tom and Harry scornful looks.
Though what intrigued Harry the most were the many gold-gilded mirrors in the castle. He wouldn't have pegged Von Krauss as a vain man. The wizard was always strictly groomed but didn't seem to fancy any personal adornments or dandyish flourishes.
"Von Krauss house-elves," shot the wizard over his shoulder, his voice thick with a curt and crisp German accent, "have no names. House-elves do not need nor deserve such. Call for an elf and the most readily available one will answer your summon. Now, do not linger behind, there is someone waiting for you."
At that, Tom turned to him as they followed the wizard, sharply hissing under his breath, "Don't do anything foolish. Be at your best behavior with the Dark Lord."
Harry blanched. That was who was waiting for them? He was instantly swept with dread and trepidation, not having expected to have to deal with Grindelwald that soon.
However, in the next moment, he squared his shoulders as he gave his brother a dour look. "I'm not an idiot. I know what's at stake here." He glowered at Tom, as he hissed through gritted teeth, "I can be as charming as you when I want to. So, fine, I'll beam at him and kiss his arse and lick his boots if that's what it takes-" he shot his brother a hard look "-but don't you forget our deal."
"I haven't," hissed Tom harshly, darkly glaring at him, before they both fell silent.
"I believe introductions are not required," said Konrad Von Krauss as he halted in the middle of the vast parlor they had entered. "He's an acquaintance of yours from Hogwarts from what I have been told."
It took Harry a moment to realize what the wizard was speaking about, at first not catching sight of the boy amongst the ancient furniture scattered about the room.
However, when Abraxas Malfoy indolently rose from a plush sofa, Harry blinked. He found himself not all that surprised, and quite relieved as well. Though when the boy widely smirked at them, his hackles rose in remembrance.
"Well, well…" drawled Malfoy, his smirk widening as his silvery gaze flickered from Harry to Tom, and back, "…the Riddles, at long last."
Harry's hands curled into angry fists, but he knew better than to say anything before Von Krauss. Tom, on the other hand, had stiffened, gazing at Malfoy with narrowed eyes, his infuriated disappointment clear to Harry given the way his scar began to prickle uncomfortably.
"Where is my daughter?" demanded Von Krauss sternly, frowning as he glanced about the room.
"She left earlier in the morning, sir," replied Malfoy, his tone greatly changed when addressing the wizard, now sounding deeply respectful. "She said she was going to spend the remainder of her holidays with a friend of Durmstrang."
"Indeed? She was told to be here."
Harry would have missed the enraged, frosty gleam that briefly crossed Von Krauss' eyes if he hadn't been eyeing the wizard with curiosity.
Malfoy merely remained silent as he shrugged his shoulders indifferently.
Konrad Von Krauss' expression hardened before he turned to Harry and Tom, informing them briskly, "At five o'clock, a tailor will be fitting you for wizarding clothes. Do not be late for the appointment. Beginning tomorrow, you will follow a strict schedule for the next two months. You will rise at seven and partake of lessons with the tutors I have hired, until six in the evening. After then, you can do as you wish with your leisure time-"
"When are we meeting the Dark Lord?" interrupted Tom, his voice polite yet with a crisp and demanding undertone.
Konrad von Krauss narrowed his icy eyes at him. "The Dark Lord is very much occupied nowadays. He wishes for you to use these months to become proficient in his native tongue and the Dark Arts." He quirked an unimpressed eyebrow at them. "As I understand, you have begun studying both and you are now required to continue doing so until the Dark Lord is satisfied." His expression hardened, as he added bitingly, "Do not expect to see him any time soon. He will not bother with the likes of you until you are well trained. You are nothing but my wards, for the time being."
Harry wondered what the wizard meant with that last phrase, his apprehension escalating, though he had little chance to interrogate Von Krauss as the wizard barely paused as he turned to Malfoy.
"I leave them in your hands, Abraxas. I have other business to attend to."
Harry knew his brother well enough to realize that Tom was left seething when Konrad Von Krauss stalked out of the room without another word or backward glance. However, he had other thoughts in his mind and Tom's crushed expectations weren't one of them.
"I am to serve as your guide," drawled Malfoy once they were alone, smirking nastily at them. "And I dare say, you have much to learn. It is not surprising that the Dark Lord wants nothing to do with you – you'd be nothing but a source of embarrassment for him, considering your muggle upbringing-"
"How did you know?" snapped Harry furiously as he advanced on the boy, no longer able to contain himself.
Abraxas paused to stare at him, arching an eyebrow. "Know what, Riddle?"
"You know what!" bit out Harry angrily, now fruitlessly attempting to tower over a boy that was taller than him. "What you said to me in Platform Nine and Three Quarters-"
"I said nothing to you," intoned Malfoy deadpanned, eyeing him as if he had lost his mind though Harry saw the glimmer of malicious, taunting enjoyment in his eyes.
"You know what I mean!" Harry glared at him, as he then gritted out, "Even before, you once said to me we were going to spend a lot of time together-"
"Whatever you are on about," hissed Tom suddenly, piercing Harry with narrowed eyes, "do not keep asking him questions here."
Harry turned to look at him, frowning. "What? Why?"
"The walls might have ears, little brother," hissed Tom impatiently. "Do you really believe that Von Krauss left us unobserved?"
Harry gave his surroundings a wary glance before he intently stared at his brother. "You think the house-elves might be listening? That they understand English?"
"The house-elves," hissed Tom coolly as he gestured about the room, "the portraits or anything else. We should always assume the worse."
Blanching, Harry nodded, remaining silent, only then noticing that Abraxas had been watching them with a fascinated expression on his face, his silvery eyes glowing covetously. Though when the boy noticed Harry's attention, he instantly changed his expression to one of deep annoyance.
"It is very disrespectful," said Malfoy icily, glaring at them, "to carry a conversation in a language that is not understood by all in attendance-"
"You are our 'guide', correct?" interrupted Tom curtly, before he smiled pleasantly at Malfoy as he gestured at the view displayed by the windows. "Then perhaps you could show us the estate. I see a rather charming patch of overgrown lawn over there. Shall we take a stroll?"
Malfoy's pale eyebrows crinkled before a brief expression of dawning comprehension crossed his features.
"Indeed," the boy drawled placidly, "I do fancy a bit of fresh air myself."
They had been meandering along the pebbled paths weaving through the gardens for about half an hour in absolute silence, the castle a mere dark shape in the distance, when Tom suddenly halted before a beautiful fountain displaying a nymph combing her hair with a branch of coral.
The stone statue shifted to peer at them, to then ignore them as she scowled at the waterless basin of her fountain.
"A bit further still, I think," murmured Tom pointedly as they followed him into a patch of trees, leaving the fountain behind.
In the hopes they were finally well out of hearing range from any statues, elves, or whatever else, Harry wasted no time in rounding on Malfoy.
"Alright, Malfoy," he snapped crisply, glowering at the boy. "Spill the beans. How did you know beforehand that Von Krauss was going to kidnap us-"
"Kidnap?" Abraxas sneered scathingly, dropping the tree branch he had been indolently playing with. "Is that what you call it – for Von Krauss to have taken you under his wing, making you his wards, changing your fortunes in a way you certainly do not deserve-"
"Answer the question," said Tom, who had been gazing at Malfoy and Harry with narrowed eyes, his voice now that soft, quiet tone that would inspire fear and trepidation in anyone who knew him.
Yet, Malfoy obviously didn't, as the boy sneered contemptuously at him, "Surely you do not expect me to reveal my source of information, Riddle."
Tom's eyes narrowed to slits, before he shot Malfoy a pleasant smile, a calculating glint suddenly gleaming in his eyes. "Tell me, how many of our housemates know that Harry and I have become Von Krauss' wards?"
"Not many," replied Malfoy acridly.
Tom nodded, then vastly disappointing Harry when he simply turned around to contemplate the view of the gardens with the moat and castle in the distance.
"I want you to write to them, Malfoy," continued Tom quietly, not moving an inch from gazing pensively at the castle, "and apprise them of the news-"
"Why would I?" Abraxas pierced Tom's back with narrowed eyes. "What's in it for me?"
Harry gaped from one to the other, before he snapped angrily, "Brother, you are negotiating with him? Why-"
"Quiet," hissed out Tom sharply as he turned around to briefly glare at him before his gaze fell on Malfoy once more. "You will do as you are told, Malfoy. I want it to be known-"
"You stand to gain much more than I do," interjected Abraxas sharply, as he then slowly smirked at Tom. "Why should I grant you another favor?"
"Because you are in the unique position of spreading the gossip," retorted Tom dryly. "And our housemates will come to you to learn more about it."
Abraxas scoffed snidely at that. "That is not enough. I want-"
"I believe I already know what you want," said Tom sharply, before he arched a mocking eyebrow at him, "but did you really think I would consent to do it in exchange for nothing?"
"Nothing?" said Abraxas frostily, his silvery eyes glowing with fury. "You owe me much already, Riddle."
"Ah, yes." Tom waved a hand dismissively. "For having kept Harry's blood when you should have not-"
"I did more than that," snarled Abraxas. "Dorea Black made the golems but it was my idea-"
"And for bearing witness to the fact that we are Slytherin's heirs," continued Tom drolly, "when we find the Chamber of Secrets." He fulminated Abraxas with a scathing look. "Did you really believe those favors would be enough to have us in your clutches? To bribe us to dispose of a wizard for you?"
"Dispose?" Harry gawked at them. "What? Who? What wizard? And what do you mean, exactly, by dispose-"
"How did you know?" bit out Abraxas, his body stiff and rigid as he speared Tom with incensed, narrowed eyes.
Tom softly chuckled under his breath. "Why, Malfoy, it was plain for anyone to see. And hardly surprising given the things I've heard regarding your relationship with him."
"With who?" blurted Harry, increasingly nonplussed and alarmed.
He scowled when they blatantly ignored him once more.
"Tell me, Malfoy," said Tom pleasantly, as he gestured around them, "when will you inherit this?"
"When Konrad Von Krauss dies, of course," said Abraxas in a chilly tone of voice, "as well as all his other properties."
Tom smirked at him. "It will be so because you're bound to marry his daughter. However, according to rumours I've heard in Slytherin House, the Von Krausses do not have a knut in their vaults."
"Kasimira does," interjected Abraxas sharply, narrowing his eyes at Tom. "Her mother died recently. She was the wealthy one. Her Russian fortune is now Kasimira's."
"And given the state of this castle," intoned Tom calmly, "she's the one controlling the purse strings." He quirked an eyebrow at Malfoy. "Making her father beg for money, is she?"
"I believe so, yes," replied Abraxas shortly before he shot Tom a frosty look. "What is your point, Riddle?"
"That a lot of ifs must happen before you inherit anything," retorted Tom coolly. "You must first become of age and marry the chit for her fortune to bolster the Malfoy vaults. You must wait for Konrad Von Krauss to kick the bucket before inheriting his estates through your marriage with his daughter. And-" he shot Abraxas a nasty smirk "- all the while, you must wait for your grandfather to drop dead before any of it can be yours. And from the few times I've laid eyes on him, he doesn't appear to be infirm." He let out a feigned, aggrieved sigh. "A pity that wizards can live for nearly two centuries, is it not? A pity that your grandfather looks to be brimming with good health."
"I see," muttered Abraxas under his breath, paling, before he shot Tom an assessing look. "Is that how you discovered what I would ask of you?"
"Why not do it yourself?" Tom demanded, spearing him with gauging, narrowed eyes.
"Because I cannot," griped Abraxas sourly. "He saw to that."
"What are you talking about!" snapped Harry highly irked and exasperated.
"Something Malfoy will surely fully explain when the time comes," replied Tom loftily, his gaze still pinning the boy as he nastily smirked at him. "Yet, Malfoy should know that the price will be a hefty one-"
"I understand," interrupted Abraxas crisply, narrowing his silvery eyes at Tom before he sniffed contemptuously. "Very well, I will write those letters-"
"And you'll continue doing anything I ask of you as well," whispered Tom softly, his smirk widening and becoming venomous. "Won't you, Malfoy?"
"Within certain boundaries," said Abraxas in a chilly tone, his jaw clenching, a look of frustration and ill temper on his pale face, "perhaps."
Tom shot him a wide, charming smile that nonetheless had a lingering sense of taunting menace. "Good."
Konrad Von Krauss had not been lying. The weeks passed by in a flash, as constantly occupied as they were with their lessons.
"I don't understand it," griped Harry bitterly one day, as he exhaustedly plopped down on an armchair, his robes drenched in sweat. "Can't they see that we already know all that stuff?"
"I believe our tutors are reporting back to the Dark Lord," pointed out Tom briskly, narrowing his eyes at him. "Thus, we can't disappoint."
Harry could only glower at him, because they certainly couldn't have 'disappointed' at all. At Tom's insistence, they always put a good show of how very 'talented' they were, though it was hard to tell with their tutors' stern expressions if they managed to impress and amaze them as much as Tom wished.
The tutor that pounded German vocabulary into their heads hour after hour was bad enough, but the other two –Harry suspected they were Durmstrang professors, to boot- were even worse. Not even with Tom had he trained that hard. Granted, they now disposed of much more time to do so than in Hogwarts, but even so, the pace of their Dark Arts practice lessons was sometimes worrisome.
Harry shot his brother a dirty look as he groused, "Does Grindelwald want us to learn what – years worth of Dark Arts in two months!"
"He wants to know if we've been studying from the books he sent us," remarked Tom impatiently.
Harry sat up straight, shaking with anger. "It's much more than that. They're teaching us curses that are as bad as the Unforgivables – and some even worse!" He glanced around warily before he lowered his voice and gritted out, "If anyone knew what we've been practicing, we would be carted off to Azkaban!" He shot his brother an apprehensive look, as he gestured wildly. "What if our lessons have been recorded somehow? What if Grindelwald uses that as blackmail material-"
"Don't be ridiculous," scoffed out Tom snidely.
Harry glared irritably at him, but remained silent. So much had happened lately that he didn't know what to think of it. They barely saw Konrad Von Krauss at all. The wizard left before sunrise and rarely returned before midnight – doing who knew what for the Dark Lord.
All the while, Tom spent his free time ensconced in the castle's library while Harry had to put up with Abraxas Malfoy trailing after him wherever he went. Apparently, according to Malfoy, Von Krauss had asked the boy to teach them pureblood traditions, social etiquette, and whatnot.
Why Malfoy always had to pester him with that – droning on and on about pureblood ideals and such rubbish – and not Tom, Harry didn't know. Though he certainly failed when attempting to escape from Malfoy. There weren't many places he could go to, at that.
He had already seen that Konrad Von Krauss' library held no books regarding wizarding Healing, and he couldn't continue his studies on Ancient Runes – not without spurring Malfoy's curiosity. And he certainly didn't want Malfoy nor Von Krauss, and much less Grindelwald, to know about his Magic-sight ability, or that he and Tom were planning on using Ancient Runes to create a spell that could counter their Trace Charms.
After all, one of their tutors had mentioned that they had nothing to worry about in practicing Dark Art curses during their holidays. Obviously, the dome of wards that encompassed the Von Krauss estate saw to that. Nevertheless, the Trace Charm was still a problem for them because Harry certainly didn't plan on forever remaining a prisoner.
Indeed, Von Krauss Castle was as much of a cage as Ashcroft Manor had been, with the added disadvantage that Harry and Tom couldn't freely speak to each other unless they communicated in Parseltongue.
At least that had served to make them agree on one point: to never show that they could wield wandless magic.
Though now Harry found himself missing his lessons with Tom, because his brother was a rather good teacher, strict yet also patient, and when they had been in Hogwarts he had begun to learn how to control his 'innate magic' as Tom called it. Furthermore, Tom was so excellent in wielding his own that Harry knew he had much catching up to do. It bothered him that his progress was thus curtailed since he couldn't continue practicing it in Von Krauss Castle.
The smothering, oppressive sense of being ever watched and trapped was further increased by the fact that they were completely isolated from the outside world. There were no wizarding newspapers to be had, no wizarding wireless either, and their only source of information was Abraxas and the letters the boy received from his grandfather.
Of course, Malfoy always became unbearably smug as he lorded it over them, and sometimes Harry wished the boy didn't share the grim news at all.
"Italian and German forces have begun moving into the Middle East and the North of Africa," drawled Abraxas superiorly one day during breakfast, pocketing his grandfather's letter after having read it with much relish. His eyes glinted as he smirked at them. "The Dark Lord will soon reign over all."
"The Middle East?" murmured Harry under his breath, frowning, before his eyes lighted with hope. "Hang on, weren't the Arabs one our side during the Great War?"
"Our side?" sneered Abraxas frostily.
"On England's side, I mean," amended Harry quickly, letting out a hallow laugh. "Of course that I don't want the Dark Lord to lose! But…"
He trailed off, because given the look Malfoy was shooting him it was obvious he wasn't believed.
Nevertheless, he ignored the boy and swiftly turned to Tom, feigning concern instead of hopeful giddiness. "So maybe the Arabs will help the British once more, and the Dark Lord's muggle forces might be overwhelmed by their numbers-"
"The Arabs won't lift a finger to help England in any way," cut in Tom coolly, before he gave Harry an annoyed look as he added in a hiss, "Don't you recall Alice's history lessons? The Arabs drove away the Turks, defeated them, in fact, during the Great War, allowing England and its allies to thus defeat the Ottoman Empire in the European front. Nevertheless, the Arabs were promised many things for their aid – their independence, foremost. However, Britain reneged on its promises. The Arabs weren't even included in the negotiations of the Treaty of Versailles. Britain betrayed them. Hence, don't expect the Arabs to help them now."
"Oh," mumbled Harry downcast, his shoulders slumping as it became clear to him that his own country's list of possible allies was running scarily short. He dearly wished that Tom was right about the Soviets, at the very least, even if Hitler turning against Stalin hadn't yet happened and there were no signs thus far of any ill feelings growing between them.
An instant later, he nearly jumped out of his seat when a house-elf popped into existence right before their breakfast table. It was taking him a while to get used to having house-elves suddenly popping in to serve them at all times.
"Master is sending this for young masters," the house-elf mumbled in a soft German as it bowed so low that the tips of its flappy ears swept the floor.
With a snap of its long, knotted fingers, several things appeared on top of the table, and Harry blinked as the house-elf vanished.
"Our Hogwarts letters," he then breathed out as he grasped the envelope by his dish of scones, feeling mightily relieved and joyful.
However, he scowled as he caught sight of the words written in bright purple ink.
Harry Riddle–Ashcroft
Third bedroom by the stairs, East Wing, Ashcroft Manor
Winchester, England
"How did he do that?" he grumbled peevishly under his breath, wondering how the meticulous Konrad Von Krauss had managed to trick whatever it was that told Hogwarts' professors about the whereabouts of their students. Although Von Krauss himself couldn't have done it, it would be too risky for the wizard to even attempt to get into Hogwarts... Was there a new spy in Hogwarts to supplant the dead Tilly Toke, then?
He forcefully vanished the grim thought from his mind, taking one look at the list of supplies and textbooks they would be needing for their Third Year, and then at the stack of books right before his plate, becoming clear to him that Von Krauss had done all their shopping for them. They wouldn't even be allowed to go to Diagon Alley.
Harry's aggrieved sigh was interrupted by Abraxas' outrage.
"Slughorn made you the Slytherin Prefect?"
Harry glanced up, seeing Malfoy looking stiff and furious, only realizing what it was all about when he caught sight of something shiny in Tom's hands. It was, indeed, a silver badge.
"Of course he did," intoned Tom arrogantly as he caressed the badge with a thoroughly self-satisfied expression on his face, smirking widely at Malfoy.
Abraxas looked thunderous as he drew his chair back, instantly rising to his feet to then leave the breakfast room in brisk strides.
"That will teach him his proper place," said Tom viciously chuckling under his breath.
Harry shot his brother a perplexed look. "I thought Prefects were chosen on their Fifth Year-"
"Obviously they've changed that rule," retorted Tom nonchalantly. "Not surprising since the war with Grindelwald means that the student population at Hogwarts needs to be more closely monitored for their anxieties to be controlled." He paused, his eyes gleaming as he pinned Harry with his gaze, then grandiosely waving his badge. "You do realize what this means, I trust?"
"That your plans are progressing exactly as you wished," mumbled Harry in a monotone, his shoulders slumping further.
"Precisely."
Tom's smirk was so insufferably smug that Harry, too, left the room quickly thereafter, in a high dudgeon himself.
"Unlike Samhain, Walpurgis Night has long been considered by dark purebloods to be a festivity of-"
"Look, Malfoy," snapped Harry crossly, as he rounded on the boy that had been trailing after him along one of the pebbled paths of the gardens, "won't you ever talk about anything else? I'm tired of having to listen to you harp about purebloods' this and purebloods' that-"
"I am trying to instill in you," hissed out Abraxas tetchily, lifting his chin up, "some degree of pureblood culture, civility, and customs-"
"Von Krauss asked that of you," bit out Harry waspishly, "not me. And I'm not interested." He glowered at the boy, waving him away. "Why don't you go nag Tom with this stuff, for once!"
"Because your brother," sneered Abraxas scathingly, "as he's clearly a social-climber doing his best to emulate his betters, undoubtedly already knows 'this stuff', as you so churlishly put it."
"Fine," gritted out Harry short-temperedly, before he pointedly gestured at his clothes. "But I didn't agree to put these stupid things on just to spend another day listening to your blabbering. So what gives? What did you want to show me?"
Indeed, he still felt most uncomfortable and ridiculous walking around with a top hat, something that looked like a velvety blazer with coattails, and tight breeches. A 'riding habit', according to the house-elf that had laid the attire on his bed that morning, informing him that it was Young Master Malfoy's wish for Harry to done those clothes.
"We are almost there," replied Abraxas shortly, before he briskly sauntered past Harry and continued along the winding path.
Harry soon realized they were approaching some sort of stables, and his eyes widened with excitement as he caught sight of the glossy, white winged horses.
"The Pegasi!" he said joyfully as he ran up to them.
"Pegasi?" sneered Abraxas contemptuously, his silvery eyes narrowing with anger. "That is what muggles call them in their inane mythologies. The proper wizarding term is Abraxans-"
"Same difference," said Harry distractedly, flapping a hand dismissively before he beamed at the nearest beautiful horse.
Up-close, it was enormous, and he shot Abraxas a quizzical glance, grinning at him. "So you're going to teach me how to ride one, right? But how am I supposed to get on it?"
"Are you a wizard or not?" bit out Abraxas acidly, as he coolly flicked his wand, instantly conjuring some sort of footstool.
Harry beamed at him excitedly. "You're really going to teach me?"
"Of course," drawled Abraxas pompously. "Purebloods wealthy enough to afford them, are taught how to ride such creatures by the time they are ten. It's only proper for you to learn-"
"Not yet!" Abraxas barked a second later when he saw Harry eagerly trying to use the footstool to climb on the winged horse.
Mutinously, Harry halted his attempts, as Malfoy then proceeded to show him how to best choose a saddle, how to set them on the Abraxans, how to hold the reins and tuck the knees under their wings, and such.
"With a tap of your boots on their flanks, you can direct them," continued drawling Abraxas superiorly, once they were both on their winged horses. "Furthermore, they are rather intelligent creatures that can somewhat understand voiced instructions. If you utter the Latin phrase-"
"Up!" instantly urged Harry, whispering into his Pegasus' flickering ears, reckoning that what worked with brooms had to work with the creatures too.
A moment later he whooped with joy as he shot into the skies, his horse's wings powerfully flapping in the wind, making them zoom at such speeds that Harry's heart was beating loudly with thrilled happiness as he flattened himself on the creature's back, reins forgotten as he urged the Abraxan to go faster and faster.
"Come back! Riddle – you fool – where do you think you're going!"
Wholly ignoring Malfoy's alarmed shouts, Harry laughed in uproarious joy. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed flying, how he had missed it, the sensation of utter freedom and reckless carelessness, of adventure, as they weaved through clouds, higher and higher until he saw the domed, glimmering wards of the Von Krauss estate but a few feet above them.
It would be so easy to encourage the Abraxan to fly over them, to cross them, to make their way to England, to Hogwarts and Dumbledore even. He could taste it in his mouth, the certainty that true freedom was just a whispered urging away.
"You cannot leave the wards!"
With hair whipping his face, Harry shot a glance over his shoulder, seeing that Malfoy was doing his best to catch up with him on his own Abraxan. The boy's expression was one of anxiousness and fear as he kept yelling at him.
For a moment, Harry truly had to battle the temptation, yet his flight to escape and freedom was dashed as he remembered about Tom still in the Von Krauss Castle, about Mrs. Cole and his friends of the orphanage, somewhere in Canada but nonetheless easily reached by Konrad Von Krauss if the need arose to make his threats a reality.
"Let's go down," murmured Harry dispiritedly into his horse's ear.
The creature neighed, sounding disappointed itself, as it began to turn around, batting its enormous white wings as it coursed through the skies, flying lower and lower until it descended by the entrance of the castle.
The moment it halted its leisurely trots, Harry jumped off the Abraxan, patting its muzzle in gratefulness before he swiped his drenched forehead with a sleeve.
It was a sweltering hot summer day and he didn't think about it twice as he caught sight of the immense moat surrounding Von Krauss Castle.
By the time Abraxas Malfoy finally descended with his own Pegasus, Harry had already discarded all his clothes, running into the water with only his undergarments on.
"What are you doing?" Malfoy's voice demanded in a high-pitch, sounding scandalized.
Harry joyfully sank into the clear, chilly water, sighing with pleasure as he swam in the depths, feeling weeds caressing his legs, even catching sight of a school of small, silvery fish darting away from him as he kept frolicking in the water. He exuded in the feeling –a nice change from the tedium of his 'holidays'- making him even regret that the Grey Lady wasn't possessing him so that she could enjoy with him what had been her favorite pastime when alive.
Feeling utterly refreshed, he resurfaced to catch his breath, only to catch sight of Malfoy standing stiffly by the edge of the moat, looking thunderous.
"This is most improper," spat Malfoy at him, glowering and looking as if he was sucking a sour lemon, as if his fastidious sensibilities were being unpardonably offended by Harry's boorish behavior. "Come out from there!"
"I won't," piped Harry contently, basking in his pleasant state of utter relaxation. He joyfully kicked his legs and splashed some water around him, as he cocked his head to a side to contemplate the boy. "Why don't you come in?"
"In there?" Malfoy sneered snidely, shooting the moat a thoroughly disgusted look as if expecting it to be filled with germs, vermin, and other slimy, revolting things. "Absolutely not. It must be infested with-"
"There's nothing here but some fish," said Harry placidly, before he shook his head and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "No one's looking, Malfoy. Who'll know if you take a dip in the water?"
Malfoy's lips curled in revulsion, evidently about to contemptuously tell him just what he thought of the idea, though suddenly, the boy glanced upwards before he eyed Harry with glittering eyes and a wide smirk on his face.
"Very well," he drawled placidly, surprising Harry a bit when he then proceeded to carefully undress, piece by piece, neatly folding his clothes on top of a large boulder by the bank of the moat without any need of further encouragement.
By then, Harry had already gone back to swim around the moat, sighing with pleasure as water lapped against his skin, as the hot sunrays caressingly stroke him, the mix of heat and chilly water clashing together so pleasant that his muscles went limp and relaxed as he floated on the surface of the moat with outstretched limbs.
Startled, he spluttered when a splash of water doused him, nearly making him choke as he flailed his arms and legs to keep his sinking head above the water.
"Malfoy!" he sputtered angrily as he finally saw the cause of the disruption, seeing the boy's face right before his, as Malfoy smirked at him and kept indolently waving his hands around to make his body float upright in the water. "You prat, there was no need for-"
"Tell me, Riddle," intoned Abraxas as he swam closer to him, their wet faces becoming inches apart, "do you know why Von Krauss has taken you as his wards?"
Harry frowned at that, as he kept kicking his legs to maintain his balance in the water. "What do you mean?"
"Obviously," drawled Abraxas nonchalantly, though his tone was belied by the keen gleam in his silvery eyes as he pinned Harry with an intent gaze, "Von Krauss is acting under the Dark Lord's orders. Thus, what does the Dark Lord want with you and your brother?"
"We're Parselmouths," retorted Harry curtly, a stony expression shuttering down on his features, since he certainly wasn't going to tell the boy that he and Tom had no clue regarding the matter. That in fact, they knew there had to be some underlying, powerful reason and it filled them with misgivings and dread – well, at least it filled Harry with that. "He's interested in us because we're Slytherin's descendants-"
Abraxas let out a scornful scoff, before he tutted mockingly. "Surely, Riddle, even if you are such, the Dark Lord would not go to such lengths just to acquire two Slytherin descendants." He pointedly shot him a smug smirk. "No, the Dark Lord's motives are much more… profound and riveting."
Harry's green eyes widened at that, as he breathed out, "Do you know, then?"
"I do," said Abraxas quietly, his smirk widening.
"Then tell me!" Harry urged vehemently, drawing closer to the boy, his heart pounding fast with hope.
"I might," drawled Abraxas coolly, before he skewered him with a pointed look. "If you give me something in return."
Harry harrumphed at that, scowling peevishly as he snapped, "Fine. What d'ya want?"
Abraxas' eyes gleamed as his lips quirked upwards. "Why, a kiss, of course."
"What?" squawked Harry in a high pitch, flailing his arms around and splashing to get away from the loon as quickly as could be.
Before he had any chance of escape, though, an arm curled around his waist under the water, pulling him back against Malfoy's chest. He could feel the press of their warm skin against each other's, the boy's breath on the back of his neck as Malfoy's murmured softly in his ear, "Surely I'm not asking for something too onerous for you." Harry could almost feel the smugness rolling out from Malfoy's lips as the boy continued silkily, "After all, you have proven before to be affected by me and-"
"Let go!" roared Harry angrily, feeling his cheeks burning with mortification and embarrassment, recalling just what instance Malfoy was speaking about.
He was suddenly released, making Harry think he was free at last, just to be spun around, being forced to be nose-to-nose with Malfoy... Malfoy, whose silvery eyes were suddenly glowing, whose wet, platinum hair seemed to be shinning beautifully, strands floating and curling in the water, sparkling under the sunrays, whose skin seemed to become ethereal with an entrancing inner light, who was closing the distance between their faces while Harry's eyes widened, as he felt utterly mesmerized and enthralled by the breathtaking beauty before him, making him even want to know if the lips curling with self-satisfaction were as soft and warm as they looked, how they would taste and-
Just before a stabbing pain pierced his scar like countless sharp needles.
Harry blinked, feeling utterly dizzy and disoriented, almost sinking under the water before he caught himself in time and angrily kicked his legs to resurface.
"You did that Veela allure thingy!" he spat furiously, his whole body thrumming with rage as he glowered at Malfoy. "I told you to never try that again!"
"My Veela powers are growing," drawled Abraxas coolly, looking utterly unrepentant. "I must practice my abilities on someone and you make the perfect subject." He shot him a pointed look and a wide smirk. "After all, you are attracted to your own gender, so why not please each other when we have both something to gain-"
"I'm what?" sputtered Harry incredulously, gawking at him. "You're mad, Malfoy! I don't-"
"You do," snapped Malfoy impatiently, narrowing his eyes at Harry as if suspecting he was being hoodwinked. "My Veela allure wouldn't affect you if you didn't fancy-"
"I don't fancy boys!" bellowed Harry at the top of his lungs, going pink at the deranged, outlandish accusation, horrified and angered, leaving him gobsmacked and bizarrely uncomfortable, to boot.
"You lie," bit out Malfoy, scowling at him before he smirked smugly. "You got all flustered, flushed, and bothered when I pressed you against me-"
"I didn't!" choked out Harry, utterly dismayed and aghast, going as white as a sheet.
"- and you never even glance at the girls at Hogwarts," continued Abraxas curtly as if he hadn't been interrupted at all. "Not to mention that you're turning fourteen this year, are you not?"
"So what!" snapped Harry truculently, gathering back his wits as he glowered at him. "Neither of those things mean anything!"
And surely they didn't! And he liked girls just fine! He liked Felicity Prewett's long, shiny red hair, and he knew she was beautiful, and Amy Benson was pretty too – everyone had said so. So what if he didn't leer at girls like Neron Lestrange, or salivated and ogled like Thaddeus Avery, or flirted with anything that moved like Orion Black, or tried to convince girls to let him feel them up like Eric Whalley had done in the orphanage!
Alphard Black didn't do any of those things either, after all – thankfully, because Harry wouldn't enjoy it if his best mate spent all their time together in waxing poetry about this girl or that- but that didn't mean that Alphard was bent! Surely! He was just like Harry, a boy not yet troubled by such issues.
"At our age, we have natural urges and needs. To feel sexual attraction is normal, and you certain don't feel such for witches-"
"I don't feel it for anyone!" shouted Harry at the end of his rope, Malfoy's pontificating, snottily drawling voice jerking him out from his frantic thoughts. "I'm just a- a- a late bloomer! That's all!"
That was it, exactly! There was nothing to be concerned about. Alice herself had told him once that he was a late bloomer, after all-
Harry blanched instantly, the mere thought of her suddenly sweeping him in grief. He was energetically swimming back to bank of the moat a second later, all joy and intentions of having a relaxing, good time vanishing.
"Where are you going?" demanded Abraxas abruptly, grabbing Harry by an ankle, pulling him back. "We had a deal-"
"Geroff!" spat Harry ill-temperedly, as he swished around with every intention of kicking the git in the face. "There's no deal at all! You were bluffing - you know nothing about Grindelwald's motives." He fiercely glowered at the other boy, utterly incensed. "And even if you did, find yourself another 'test subject' for your Veela abilities!"
When Malfoy merely smirked at him, not letting go of his ankle but rather pulling him back again, Harry flung his other foot out, disappointed when Malfoy dove to a side in time to avert it.
"Riddle!" shrieked Abraxas indignantly, spluttering as he resurfaced, looking like a drowned peacock.
An obstinate one at that, who certainly felt entitled to toy and play with him because Malfoy made another lunge at him, and suddenly Harry was feeling woozy and light-headed again, suddenly Malfoy was gloriously handsome once more, impossibly so, glowing and mesmerizing and so compelling that Harry felt himself go weak as he was pulled into arms and a bare, lean, hard chest.
And his breath hitched in awed wonder as the beautiful face got closer, as silvery eyes looked straight into his, a mere inch apart, as lips parted ready to be poised on his own, as his whole world narrowed, his sight zeroed in on the face before his, feeling such maddening need that he felt about to explode with desire-
Harry groaned and huddled forwards as his head suddenly felt as though splitting apart, the pain flaring in his scar so potent that he gasped, his eyes tearing as he frantically clawed at his forehead.
"Stop that, Riddle!" said a loud voice, sounding alarmed and even slightly concerned. "What is the matter with you?"
Harry cracked his eyes open as a hand restrained his own, as he caught sight of Abraxas staring at him with a frown on his pale face, as he realized that the only thing keeping his head above water was Malfoy's arms around him.
Yet the flares of pain in his scar didn't relent, and this time, Harry gritted his teeth as he tried to soothingly rub his forehead, while he glanced around in puzzlement because he knew what the only cause could be.
He finally caught sight of a shape high up in a tower of Von Krauss Castle. A silhouette, a shadow was seen through the windows so far up, as Harry realized who it had to be. Of course! Tom was always in the library, and apparently his brother had caught sight of them through the windows, and was now staring down at them.
Wincing, Harry groaned irritably as he rubbed his scar once more, squinting up at Tom's shape. Well, he couldn't see his brother's face from such distance, though it was clear that his brother had to be glaring, scowling, or both.
"Yes, he's there. He has been watching us for some time," said Abraxas' voice, sounding highly pleased. "Very telling, is it not, how he always seems to be so very possessive of you?"
At that, when Malfoy's arms around him tightened as if making some point to their audience, Harry violently pulled away to stare at the other boy, as he snorted loudly and said matter-of-factly, "Yeah, because he's a git who's envious when I have fun with others. Because he doesn't have friends of his own and I do." He instantly glowered and added bittingly, "Not that you and I are friends! And won't ever be after what you tried to pull-"
"You think he's jealous of you because you have friends?" interrupted Abraxas with a sneer as he shot him a disbelieving look. He then gave Harry a contemptuous look, as if being before such a fool that it couldn't be borne, as he added tartly, "I think your brother has something else in mind." He smirked nastily at him, as he drawled slowly, "After all, incest is quite common in wizarding lines."
"Incest?" Harry echoed numbly, gawking at him, before he let out a strident guffaw. "You're nuts, Malfoy! And I'm leaving!"
And he did just so, swimming so forcefully, violently, and furiously that the other boy didn't have a chance to catch up with him – not this time, not ever if it was up to Harry.
He was on his Pegasus before Malfoy even managed to get his clothes back on, and left him in the dust as he flew back to the stables.
The following hours became unbearable with the strained tension between the three boys that had to share the castle.
Harry's foul mood only heightened after his experience with Malfoy, after the prat's words made him doubt himself, whether it was abnormal that he didn't fancy girls yet, as most boys he knew of did, whether there was some truth to Malfoy's assertions that the boy's Veela allure wouldn't affect him if he wasn't interested in boys in a physical sense, whether Tom was jealous of Harry because he had friends or something else – but it was all too horrible to even contemplate, and he hated Malfoy for having stuck such ghastly, worrisome thoughts in his mind.
And it had been just when he had thought that perhaps Abraxas Malfoy wasn't that bad, that the boy had some redeeming qualities even though he tried to 'educate' Harry in pureblood traditions – brainwash him with pureblood prejudice, more like– since at least Malfoy had taken time to teach Harry how to ride a Pegasus. And then, Malfoy went and proved that he was the insufferable git Harry had always pegged him as, always drawling and smirking and enjoying in making Harry feel awkward and uncomfortable.
Indeed, Harry's ill temper only increased as the day progressed and Malfoy took every chance to lay a hand on Harry's arm or back, lingering too long, always in Tom's presence, always shooting sly smirks at Tom as well, as if purposely riling him up – which Harry came to understand that Malfoy's intentions were precisely those, surely to get revenge on Tom for having been chosen a Prefect when Malfoy must have wanted the position for himself.
It didn't help matters that though Tom acted thoroughly indifferent to Malfoy's touchy-feely displays with Harry, Harry knew better because his scar didn't stop hurting for a moment.
His irritation and bad temper at both his brother and Malfoy, whom acted as if Harry was some plaything to be yanked to and fro between them in a silent tug of war, escalated to such point that he yelled at them both –saying who knew what– as he stomped away during the middle of dinner.
That night, he curled under his bed sheets, closing his eyes as he brought up to the forefront of his mind the image of every pretty girl he knew of.
He was determined. He would dream of girls, like he knew that most of his roommates in Slytherin House did. He would dream of Felicity Prewett and Amy Benson and he would imagine what it would be like to cup their faces in his hands and feel their lips on his - and even grope a boob if that was what it took!
He was flying, his heart surging with joy and exhilaration as the powerful wings of the Pegasus flapped in the skies, he felt the creature's strong muscles under his thighs, the sounds of his own laughter and Alphard Black's, who rode the Pegasus with him, behind him, clutching him tightly around the waist as their soared through clouds.
Everything was perfect, just as it should be, carefree and enjoying himself, with not a worry in the world, as he was flanked by two other Pegasi. Tom and Abraxas Malfoy on the one at his right, Santi and Julian Erlichmann on the one at his left, all giddy and happy, all together riding through the skies. All friends, all his most loved ones, and he didn't even wonder why it was that those disparate people were such.
There were all together in peace and that was what mattered, enjoying themselves, alive, laughing, utterly free.
He gasped though, as suddenly the Pegasus shot down, diving towards some distant land, when he abruptly saw that all the others had disappeared and he landed on ground as his Pegasus suddenly vanished in a puff of white smoke.
Abruptly, he was running, ecstatic and thrilled, filled with such wondrous joy as he had never felt before. He was laughing, awe-struck, mesmerized by everything he saw around him, yet there were mere blurs and glimpses to Harry, a town – a beautiful town of white columns, promenades, and spurting fountains, of brightly, colorfully cobbled streets and glittering statues– he was rushing through a marketplace, an exotic bazaar where he saw countless creatures milling about, ancient races he had never laid eyes on before, yet their casual display of powerful, innate magic made his eyes grow large with fascination and contentment.
His eyes... his widening eyes that were silvery and glowed, because somehow he could see himself as well. And for a moment Harry was struck speechless, for a moment he thought he was dreaming about being an older version of Abraxas Malfoy, tall and lean, with flowing platinum hair and silvery eyes. Yet he was not. Some features were different and yet so very familiar – like those of the beautiful woman of his dreams that used to sing Alice's lullaby to him.
He had her lips, the shape of her eyes, her beautiful bone structure heightened by Abraxas Malfoy's straight nose, high cheeks and fine jaw line, and somehow, Harry knew that he had never seen such incredible handsomeness before. He felt further breathless as his features glowed, as he saw that his skin was gleaming with golden specks, like Santi's did.
And both his enthrallment and puzzlement only grew as the silvery eyes turned to the vibrant green hues of his own, to then change into the sheer, milky, glittering ones of Santi, as if it was only natural for his eye color to change with such ease when he was feeling joyful and unrestrained.
He didn't stop running, knowing there was no danger, knowing he was invisible to the eyes of all around him, stretching out his arms to the skies as he reveled in the feeling, as he kept taking deep breaths, inhaling the very essence, the golden dust like dandelion fluff that floated through the air, carried by soft breezes, the very same fluff that sparkled in the water spurting from the fountains all around him, in the very dishes of mouth-watering food displayed in the stalls of the bazaar, as though it was spice, because it was everywhere around him, in the water supply, in the soil he crunched under the soles of his dragon-hide boots, in the very air he breathed.
"Antares!" yelled a panicked voice, horrified, alarmed, so very fearful, that Harry had to turn around.
It was Santi rushing towards him, a stricken expression on his translucent face, a face shrouded inside a magical bubble.
"Your Bubble Head Charm!" croaked out Santi, his milky eyes wild as he gazed down at Harry, gripping his shoulders, shaking him forcefully. "What did you do? I told you the air here is poisonous! Why did you cancel it!"
"Because she told me to," said Harry in a voice so lilting and melodious that it sounded almost like a soft singsong, as his lush lips quirked into a wide smirk.
"What?" choked out Santi, looking thunderstruck, before he pulled himself up to his full height. "She did not!"
"Inside my mind, when you took me to see her," said Harry coolly, arching a pale eyebrow. "She told me to... breathe."
He knew, even before a terrified expression spread over Santi's translucent features, even before Santi raised his hand with ball of light glowing on his palm, he knew of Santi's intention and instantly whipped out his wand.
Harry clucked his tongue, tutting reproachfully as a beam of light shot from his wand and struck Santi.
A wand that was so very familiar and comfortable in his hands, a wand he had only seen once before in his life, so very briefly, and yet had made such an impression on him that he had never forgotten. Glowing as though with a power of its own, so very compelling and enthralling...
And for a moment Harry even thought he saw something etched in the base of the wand's handle – a symbol of some sort, perphaps, though he didn't get the chance to eye it closely. Nevertheless, the revelation that struck him left him gobsmacked, because he had seen that wand in the Norwegian Ministry of Magic.
It was Gellert Grindelwald's wand!
The silvery eyes of the dream-Harry suddenly widened as he glanced around, as he mouthed in puzzlement, 'Grindelwald's?'
Abruptly, as realization dawned on him, he laughed in triumph, as he swirled around, as he stared as if seeing some ghost that wasn't there, but he was staring at himself.
"You are seeing this," breathed out the dream-Harry, staring right at him, his silvery eyes gleaming. He chuckled under his breath exultantly. "Yes, I remember that I dreamt this! It works, of course! So long I've wondered how to communicate with my past… Harry."
He said the name slowly, as if rolling and tasting it in his mouth, as his silvery eyes glinted fervently. He raked long fingers through his silky platinum hair, a wide grin stretching on his beautiful face. "Through dreams I can now speak to you! Just like I saw Mother in dreams when I was you."
He cocked his head to a side, peering out as his grin became a smirk. "I remember it all now, you'll be pleased to know. My life as you."
"Antares!" roared Santi's voice.
Harry turned around at that, his lips pursed in a taunting, petulant pout as he saw Santi struggling against the magic that held him in place.
Santi's expression was filled with trepidation and uneasiness, though he knew that Santi understood perfectly well what he had accomplished - and what was happening as well, though Santi had never allowed himself to experience the latter. The coward.
"Let me go!" snarled Santi, his milky eyes flashing with rage, however there was also fear in them, Harry was pleased to notice. "And stop breathing the-"
"It's not poisonous, you fool!" snapped Harry impatiently, scowling at him, before he tipped his head back and laughed with joy. "I can feel it in my blood stream now, in my flesh, in my soul, in my mind… just like she wanted me to…"
Santi's expression, if possible, turned even more frantic and horrified, as he struggled once more to be fred. "Stop it!" he howled desperately. "Please, Antares, stop it from happening!"
Harry shook his head lethargically, as if drugged, as he said slowly, "It cannot hurt me, Santiago." He closed his silvery eyes, inhaling deeply, pleasure coursing through him as he breathed out, "They sing to me, thrumming… still showing me everything and now I finally understand it all."
And Harry did, something had been happening, floods of impressions filling his mind, because surely they could only be described as such, not images, certainly not voices or words, but just... knowledge, it seemed. Unclouding, unfogging, unraveling slowly... and though he knew that the one he was in the dream understood, the Harry asleep did not - his beffudlement and apprehension only increasing with each passing second.
"Who knew that Salazar Slytherin had been right all along," he said jovially as he cracked his silvery eyes open, gazing intently at a despairing and bound Santi. He chuckled under his breath. "Only that he had it the other way around!"
Santi drastically paled as he kept staring at him with beseeching and horrified eyes, as he croaked pleadingly, "Antares-"
"I know now," said Harry softly as he came closer to Santi, trailing a finger down the man's cheek to the cords of muscle straining in his throat, "for instance, that they chose you first. You do realize that at least, do you not?"
Santi shook his head violently and furiously, seemingly the only part of his body he could move.
Harry sighed in deep aggravation, as he kept trailing his fingers around the man's neck, as he said pleasantly, "It is the truth. The truth you should have known eons ago if you hadn't been blinded by fear, rage, sorrow, despair, and loneliness."
"You don't know what you're speaking of," gritted out Santi fiercely.
"But because you failed," continued Harry conversationally, before he speared Santi with livid, silvery eyes, "they had to make me instead."
He saw Santi blanching and flinching, reaction that instantly filled him with cruel enjoyment.
"Oh yes," Harry breathed out nastily, his fingers tightening around Santi's jaw, brusquely forcing him to stare down at him. "You, my very own 'secret, invisible friend' since I was an infant, turned to be nothing but a failure." He chuckled sharply, his grip on Santi's face turning hurtful. "She promised you me, to make you find me. But she lied by omission, you see?" He cocked his head to a side, contemplating the being before him. "Now I know that I'm not the Fate's Companion. I would have been, if you had succeeded, but since you did not…"
He trailed off as he smirked and waved a hand encompassingly. "Well, you surely get the idea. Our roles are reversed because I dared do what you did not." His smirk widened with triumph, as he breathed out exultantly, "Now, it's you who is mine. It's you who is the so-called Fate's Companion in the end."
"This is not you speaking, Antares," croaked out Santi frantically. "Release me and-"
"I see I'll have to show you, then," bit out Harry impatiently, as he swiftly pressed himself flush against Santi's chest, tilting his head upwards to whisper silkily into his ear, "Enjoy this, because it will be the last time I will ever kiss you."
Certainly, a cruel taunt, a lie, for Harry would never release Santi now that the magnificent being was finally truly his, yet he had always enjoyed playing with and tormenting Santi, one of the two people in his life that he loved, as much as he hated. Indeed, Santi who always trailed after him like a needy, love-sick puppy, for all his power and uniqueness, always so desperate to please, to earn Harry's affection, and Harry did, of course, ocasionally throw a bone at him, reveling in the power he held over such a being.
Santi's eyes widened, agitated, horrified, fearful, yet he could not struggle against him when Harry's silvery eyes glowed, when his beautiful face became ethereal, rendering the features even more entrancing, astonishing, and striking, like – like what happened to Malfoy's face when the boy used the Veela allure thing!
Indeed, Santi's eyes became unfocused and dazed, his body turning limp inside the spell that was holding him caged and upright, and Harry felt himself smirking in smug self-satisfaction as he finally pressed his lips against Santi's.
He didn't waste a second in prying the pliable mouth open with a darting tongue, in feeling pleasure as he tasted the warm, moist inside of Santi's palate, as he indolently rolled his tongue caressingly, as he finally let it loose as it had wanted all along.
Streams, it seemed, of golden light flowed between their locked mouths, as Harry felt something within flooding out, as Santi's body arched as though being filled, as Santi's eyes suddenly widened in horror, in agony, for Harry knew the fool was battling against it, but soon, Santi would be defeated, what began coursing through flesh and blood and soul would prevail against the shields of the mind.
Indeed, as Harry intensified his kiss, swallowing Santi's screams, the milky eyes suddenly rolled upwards into unconsciousness, Harry's knees nearly buckling under the weight of catching Santi's body in his arms as he dispelled the magic that had bound him.
Suddenly, Harry peered down at Santi, contemplating him as a smirk of contentment and possessiveness spread across his features, a softness and tenderness shinning through as he kept regarding the unconscious man, before he snapped his head up. "Exquisite, is he not?"
Harry's smirk widened, as he clutched Santi closer to himself. "Now that I know how it's done, expect to see much more of me… Harry." His expression sobered, turning grave as he added curtly, "Beware, though. Your time is running short. You have few years left before death. You must find It!"
He was suddenly beaming a gorgeous, bedazzling smile, his eyes abruptly turning a vibrant green, his platinum hair becoming a disorderly mess of black, as he added jovially, "And you already know what I'm referring to, Harry, because I remember this, I remember figuring it out. Now wake up!" He chuckled with cheerfulness as he winked, his green eyes gleaming. "You have a visitor. Someone is waiting for us. You'll finally meet her! Wake up!"
Harry gasped loudly as he jerked awake, his head pounding, his heart beating frantically, as he felt hot and flushed and bothered... something was very strange, something was tight and full and deliciously painful and throbbing…
In the next second, his face went scarlet as he peered down at himself, as he noticed the tent in his bed sheets, as he realized that he was – aroused!
Harry choked on his own tongue, spluttering incomprehensively to himself, almost in a panic because that had never happened to him in his life! He instantly realized what had caused it, and he utterly cringed and paled as he brought fingers to his lips, because could still feel the taste of Santi in his mouth…
"It was a dream!" he desperately cried out loud to himself, profoundly horrified and aghast… and still throbbing – damn it all to bloody hell!
"A bizarre dream," Harry weakly mumbled to himself under his breath, bunching the bed sheets down on his lap with white knuckles, attempting to flatten away his mortifying arousal, trying to gather back his wits, trying to not panic and howl like a terrified animal, because he knew that he had liked it, not only Santi's taste – Santi, of all people! he shuddered in horror, his mind wanting to shy away from it and the implications- but also the cruelty, the taunting, the dominance, the taking by force, the reveling in the power he had had over poor Santi.
And yet, Harry increasingly paled when he realized that he still remembered everything with full clarity. It was not fading away, it was staying put as though it were a memory!
Moreover, no common dream would leave him with the taste of someone else's mouth on his lips – because surely that was what he was feeling inside his mouth! As if it had all truly happened, watching like a witness yet also feeling everything as if he was truly that Antares person – Antares! What he was always called in his dreams by that beautiful woman that used to sing Alice's lullaby.
"I'm going mad," muttered Harry with true fear and dismayed trepidation, his face as white as a ghost's.
"I do not believe you are," said a female voice, accompanied by a bout of girlish, high-pitched, nasty giggles. "Evidently, you were simply having quite a wet dream."
Startled out of his life, Harry spun around in his bed so wildly that he became entangled in the bed sheets, flopping stupidly to the floor, gawking and gaping as he finally caught sight of his 'visitor'.