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:
Thanks to all reviewers!
Now, answering some fears and comments, Harry will never act meek and 'submissive' in any of his romantic relationship, even that with Tom. He's stubborn, short-tempered, and has a strong personality. That he isn't ruthless, vicious, and cold-hearted like Tom doesn't mean Harry will become his doormat.
To those who aren't happy about Harry's future entanglement with Santi, as Antares, keep in mind that I've already said that Harry/Tom is the main pairing. And what we saw of Antares' attitude has a lot of background story behind it, some that we can already imagine and understand. Nevertheless, don't fear, he isn't deranged.
That said, Enjoy!
Part I: Chapter 56
Gobsmacked, Harry stared at the girl that was seated on the plush sofa next to his bed, looking as if she had been there for quite some time – creepily observing him while he had been sleeping?
She was bathed in the dim moonlight that speared through the heavy curtains of his bedroom, allowing him to take notice of her features. She looked to be a couple of years older than himself, quite petite and svelte of body, a willowy figure of long, slender limbs, tiny waist and small breasts, all accentuated by the fact that she was wearing a very flimsy nightgown, plunging cleavage revealing the swell of her small breasts, thin straps displaying her milky white shoulders, scandalously short, lacy hem displaying her thighs and legs.
With a mane of long sandy blonde hair, icy pale blue eyes, and delicate features, she looked very familiar to him, he realized the longer he stared at her. Indeed, it was not only her coloring, but her cheekbones, her lips, her nose, every little thing resembled Konrad Von Krauss' facial features, except that they were much more delicate, and feminine, of course, yet the resemblance was unmistakable.
"Kasimira Von Krauss?" he breathed out, blinking, thoroughly disconcerted.
"I am," said the girl coolly, before her icy eyes narrowed to slits, her gaze sharp and piercing. "And you are Harry, I presume? Harry… Riddle?"
"Um, yeah," said Harry as he gathered back his wits, rising to his feet, clutching along his bed sheets and feeling mightily relieved to notice that his previous arousal had instantly vanished at the sight of her.
"Shall I call you 'brother'?" Kasimira uttered softly, cocking her head to a side as she contemplated him keenly, though there was an underlying tone of vicious anger.
Indeed, the smile she then gave him, displaying perfect, pearly-white teeth, had a sense of menace to it - an upwards curl of the full lips that belied her friendly tone, like that of a wild, feral animal about to pounce and strike at its prey.
"Do you like what you see?" she added silkily, as one of her small, delicate hands travelled down her body, slender fingers then playing with the lacy hem of her nightgown, increasingly revealing more skin as the hem crept further up her thighs.
Harry's gaze automatically followed her hand's journey, to then snap up to her face as he realized what she had said.
He scowled at the girl, plopping down on his bed as he grunted, "Not really."
"Ah, I understand," said Kasimira in a knowing tone of voice, dropping her hand m,away from her splayed thighs as she then let out a bout of giggles – giggles that would have sounded silly and simpering in any other girl, but in her case sounded strident and abrasive, grating his ears.
"You understand what?" snapped Harry ill-temperedly, instantly bristling and feeling defensive, before he shook his head at himself, feeling too tired and out of sorts after his bizarre dream and his reaction to it - and after finding her, of all people, in his bedroom in the middle of night.
He certainly didn't feel up to the task of following Tom's plan. Indeed, his brother had been most adamant about how they should treat Konrad Von Krauss' daughter when they met her.
Tom was of the idea that he would use his 'charming ways' to make the girl become besotted with him, while Harry was supposed to gain her friendship, all because Tom deigned that the girl was someone who could be of some use and worth to them, given their precarious situation.
Regardless, Harry was too much in a sulky, grumpy mood for politeness, hence he frowned at the girl as he demanded curtly, "What are you doing here? Aren't you spending your holidays with some school friend?"
Kasimira laughed viciously at that, as she sneered contemptuously, "I have certainly made sure that both my dear father and husband-to-be believe such." She abruptly halted in her chuckles to skewer him with narrowed eyes, as she spat in a heavily accented English, "Nevertheless, my true whereabouts are none of your business."
"Right," bit out Harry impatiently. "Well, then, if you don't mind, I'm going back to sleep." He gestured briskly towards the door as he informed her shortly, "Malfoy's staying in the room across the hall."
Kasimira quirked an eyebrow at him. "I am well aware. Do you believe I'm in your chambers because I made a mistake?" She scoffed, before snarling acidly, "Oh no, I already spent the first week of my holidays getting acquainted with my betrothed. That is as much as I can stomach for the time being." Her eyes flashed as she narrowed her gaze at him. "I'm here to see you."
Utterly bewildered, Harry stared at her. Of course, given the things he had heard and the way Malfoy behaved regarding the subject, he had known that theirs was to be an arranged marriage of convenience, mutually beneficial to their respective families.
Though he had certainly assumed that the girl had sneaked into the castle to spend some alone time with Malfoy anyway – that was the sort of things that engaged couples did, wasn't it?
"To see me?" muttered Harry, shooting her a quizzical look before he cleared his throat. "Well, I'm sure your father will introduce us at breakfast-"
"I'm not staying," Kasimira interrupted sharply, narrowing her icy blue eyes at him, her expression turning hard and threatening. "Indeed, my father better not hear a word about this… visit. He is not to know that I have returned for even a second."
Before Harry could open his mouth to question her, she was already on her feet to then sit down on the bed right next to him, not leaving an inch between them.
Harry instantly stiffened, the close proximity feeling uncomfortable. There was just something about the girl that made him feel on edge – something wrong or not quite right about her, some glint that had appeared in her pale eyes, something that made him feel that she was a tad unstable… dangerous.
His wariness increased when Kasimira immediately took hold of his face between her delicate hands, feeling the scrape of her long, sharp fingernails against his cheeks.
"There is something about you that reminds me of him," she breathed out slowly as she bore her gaze into Harry's, observing him closely. "You've suffered a great loss recently. Yes, I can see it in your eyes, your grief, your sorrow-"
Harry jerked his face away from her grasp, glaring angrily at the girl as he spat scornfully, "I doubt you can see anything in my 'eyes'." He heaved a deep breath, attempting to rein in his bad temper as he jerkily carded his fingers through his disorderly locks of hair. "Look, just say whatever it is you came to say and sod off-"
"Not that you're even worthy of wiping his shoes," continued Kasimira in a musing tone of voice, as though her inspection of him hadn't been interrupted at all, while her lips began to stretch into a nasty smile, "and yet there are some similarities between you."
"Between me and who?" snapped Harry crisply.
The girl cocked her head to a side, her gaze still fixed on him, evidently still turning deaf ears to his words, as she murmured, "Yes, there's still innocence in you. As there was in him." Her icy pale blue eyes gleamed. "Of course, there's not much left of it in him now, however precious it was to him, however much he priced it, and guarded it, and treasured and protected it…"
Abruptly, she let out a bout of sharp giggles, as she arched a mocking eyebrow at him. "I wonder how long yours will last. Given your current situation, I dare say that it won't survive for much longer. It happened to him, it will happen to you."
"What are you babbling on about?" Harry shook his head impatiently. "And who's 'him'?"
"My lovely-"
The soft slap she dealt him on the face caught him completely unawares, and Harry stared at Kasimira, blinking.
"-sweet-"
The second slap, mild yet still much more forceful than the first, made him jerk backwards, startled and deeply wary.
"-broken-"
He almost managed to dive away when he saw the third slap coming, though Kasimira instantly leapt at him, striking him so hard that the force of the slap made his face snap to a side, her sharp fingernails raking the skin of his cheek.
"-Julian."
Harry had scrambled to take a hold of his wand on the nightstand, just to turn around, utterly surprised and befuddled as he heard that name, to then instantly stiffen as he found a wand aimed at his chest.
He stared at Kasimira Von Krauss with wide eyes, as he felt small beads of blood oozing from the scratches on his cheek.
Any expression of deranged playfulness had vanished from her pretty face, to be replaced by a look as hard as stones, her wand – he didn't even know where it had come from, especially given that the girl was scantily dressed in a flimsy nightgown- now poking him in the throat.
"Tell me, Harry," the girl whispered venomously, her icy eyes narrowing to slits, "from where do you know Julian Erlichmann?"
Instantly masking any lingering sense of astonishment, knowing how very dangerous the situation had turned, Harry blinked at her dumbly. "Erlichmann? You mean…" He trailed off, staring at Kasimira with wide green eyes as he rushed out excitedly, "Oh, I've heard plenty about him! Who hasn't! Yet I still haven't had the honor of meeting him in person-"
"Do. not. lie. to. me," hissed out Kasimira, so very slowly, sharply and enraged, her icy eyes flashing as her wand stabbed Harry's throat painfully. "Julian mumbles your name in his sleep." She jabbed him again with the tip of her wand, as she snarled, "And given that 'Harry' is such an ordinary, filthy muggle name, yet uncommon for a wizard, and given what I know of you, you are the only Harry whom Julian could possibly have any association with."
Harry blanched at that, agog, incredulous, even strangely pleased, and all around so surprised that he could have been knocked over with a feather. "Erlichmann says my name in his sleep?" He frowned with utter puzzlement the next second. "Hang on, how would you know? What are you saying? That you and he-"
"Very telling, is it not?" interjected Kasimira as she chuckled happily under her breath, though she didn't remove her wand from Harry's throat. "That in whatever level of awareness, Julian feels so very safe and comfortable in my arms, as to reveal so much when he is asleep." Her icy eyes gleamed triumphantly. "Indeed, only with me does he dare be so unguarded and vulnerable. Certainly, if he did the same when he shares the Dark Lord's bed, he would have already been killed, would he not?"
Staring at her, and paling, Harry swallowed thickly. "Are you saying that you and he-"
"I'm saying that Julian is now mine," bit out Kasimira crisply, "although the details of the nature of my relationship with him is of no concern of yours. I am here to get answers regarding your relationship with him."
"There's no relationship whatsoever," said Harry, sighing heavily with exasperation. "I've never laid eyes on the bloke."
"You lie," declared Kasimira flatly, before her lips curled and her eyes gleamed savagely. "Very well, little boy." She trailed the tip of her wand down to his chest, jabbing him pointedly as her smile turned vicious with anticipation. "I dare say that when you feel the power of my Cruciatus Curse it will loosen your tongue."
Harry stiffened at once, shooting a desperate look at his wand barely a few inches away on his nightstand, before he turned to face the girl once more, glowering at her, sitting upright on his bed and squaring his shoulders, as he spat, "Go ahead. Try your best. I will say nothing because I know nothing."
Kasimira shot him a long, gauging and considering look, before she dropped her wand and sharply smiled at him – and it was a nasty, scary thing at that.
"Good boy," she murmured softly, as she then pocketed her wand in some fold of her nightgown – magically spelled, for certain, since there was no bulge left, as if the wand had been swallowed by the clothes.
Nonetheless, Harry didn't feel at all relieved or relaxed, but rather even more wary and suspicious than ever.
"What are you playing at?" he demanded angrily, his green eyes narrowing to slits as the girl's smile widened, making her look feral.
"Are you aware," intoned Kasimira loftily, yet skewering him with a keen gaze, "that Julian is a member of the Order of the Phoenix and Albus Dumbledore's spy in the Dark Lord's ranks?"
Harry would have choked on his own tongue in alarm if it weren't for the fact that nothing coming out from the girl's mouth seemed to surprise him anymore.
"What?" he immediately spluttered incomprehensively, gawking at her. "The what order?" He shook his head vehemently as he let out a bout of barking laughter. "And a spy? I don't know where you get your information from, but-"
"From a very reliable source," interjected Kasimira sharply, before shooting him a viciously smug smirk. "Julian told me himself. Indeed, his trust in me is such that I have become not only his source of comfort but also his confidante."
Harry shot her a jaundiced look, as he said tartly, "From what I've heard about him, I doubt Erlichmann would be so stupid as to tell you – the daughter of the Dark Lord's most trusted follower- anything at all." He grimaced, as he added discomfited, "Even if he's shagging you, like you've implied."
"Well, perhaps I have exaggerated," intoned Kasimira airily, waving a hand dismissively. "Nevertheless, I have my ways and means, and I do know the truth." She tittered and giggled in a strident, high-pitch. "I know more about Julian than he does himself!"
Suddenly, she gripped Harry's face forcefully, bearing down her body against his, nearly straddling his lap, as she hissed out sharply, "It will be your task and mine to protect him, will it not? Even from his own idiocy. I have waited too long to have him, and now that I have him, I will not relinquish him. I will allow no one to take him from me, not even the Dark Lord!" She tightened her clutch on his face, nearly sinking her fingernails in his flesh, as she spat, "We will not let it happen, will we? Julian will not be killed-"
"Killed?" Harry gaped at her, highly alarmed, as he tried to disentangle her from himself. "What do you mean? What do you know?"
"You and I can be great allies, little boy," breathed out Kasimira, her icy, pale blue eyes glinting as her fingernails sharply embedded themselves on Harry's cheeks. "I posses information that would be invaluable to you, and you are in a unique position from which you could aid me in furthering my aims."
Harry stilled, his green eyes narrowing at her. "And what aims would those be?"
Kasimira released him as she abruptly rose to her feet, flicking her long, sandy blonde hair over a naked shoulder. "In holidays to come, I'm sure, we will have many occasions in which to hash out the details of our allegiance." She shot him a wide, feral smirk. "Julian is currently warming my bed, and spending another second away from him is already paining me much. Now turn around."
"What?" Harry shot her a disconcerted look.
"Face that wall," snapped Kasimira impatiently, pointing a finger at the one the headboard of his canopied bed was pressed against. "I'm leaving and do not wish for you to see the means I employ to get in and out of my home undetected." Her voice dripped with bitterness and hateful despise on the last words, before she bit out angrily, "Turn around!"
A tad flummoxed, Harry automatically did so, just to hear the soft, muffled falls of dainty feet on the rug, before he glimpsed a flash of glowing light from the corner of his eyes.
Instantly snapping his head around, he blinked as he caught sight of a swish of sandy blonde hair and a flicker of the lacy hem of the girl's nightgown sinking into the full-body gilded mirror hanging from the opposite wall of his room.
Harry instantly stood up and approached it, staring at his own reflection in the mirror, bemused. Kasimira had clearly vanished into it.
Experimentally, he tapped the surface of the mirror with a finger, and wasn't at all surprised when nothing happened.
He stared at it musingly, as he dropped his hand. She had wanted him to know about it - for sure, or else she could have stupefied him before leaving. Perhaps to tease him with the possibilities, because he had certainly taken notice of the countless mirrors scattered and hanging all about Von Krauss Castle – doors of sorts, then, into a network of secret passages, most likely. Which allowed the girl to go to and fro the Von Krauss estate 'undetected', as she had said.
Harry's eyebrows shot to his hairline. Konrad Von Krauss himself couldn't know about it, then. Well, that was certainly interesting – and downright useful to him, if only the girl would someday deign to tell him how it worked.
Kasimira Von Krauss was a mad, strange, alarming, and dangerous girl, no doubt. He didn't think he liked her much, at that, he concluded as he touched the scratches on his cheeks, feeling the dried smudges of blood.
Nevertheless, he did begin to entertain the notion that being 'allies' with her wasn't that bad of an idea after all.
"You've been acting strangely lately," Tom sneered venomously at him, slamming his Dark Arts textbook shut, his dark blue eyes narrowing to slits. "Do not tell me you miss him."
"What?" Harry blinked at his brother, jerking out from his dazed contemplation of Tom's face.
For once, he didn't feel his cheeks burning as had happened during the last weeks when Tom caught him in the act of staring at him.
Instead, he snorted, as what Tom said sank into his mind, and rolled his eyes. "No, I don't miss Malfoy. Good riddance, I say."
The last weeks of their holidays had flashed by, more quickly than ever, since Harry spent most of his time hiding from Malfoy.
It was cowardly and shameful but he had decided that it was the wisest thing he could do. It was either that or leap at Malfoy from some shadowy corner to beat him to a pulp – and he hardly thought that such would go unpunished by Konrad Von Krauss. Even if Malfoy did deserve to be thoroughly trounced and clobbered.
Naturally, Harry fully laid all the blame on Abraxas Malfoy and his fat mouth.
It was the things the boy had said to him that had put such ideas in his head, it was because of Malfoy that Harry found himself staring at Tom at the oddest of moments, for the first time noticing that all the simpering, adoring words of praise regarding Tom's handsomeness were true, for the first time finding himself appraising and appreciating his brother's good looks.
It made him feel ill, sickened, horrified and ashamed of himself, worsened when he was caught in the act and Malfoy shot him nastily taunting, knowing smirks.
At least Tom looked completely clueless about the thoughts swirling in Harry's confused and appalled mind.
His brother would quirk an eyebrow at him when he noticed Harry staring at him for too long, or frowned, or even scowled since it took Tom to call Harry's name several times for Harry to snap out of it.
Nevertheless, Harry thought that he was handling it quite well. Oh, he would feel his cheeks burning and the tips of his ears turning red, but he was always quick to glare and angrily snap something or other to his brother. His innate fiery temper was even more short-fused than ever, defensively so, which ultimately meant that he ended up bickering heatedly with Tom about the silliest of things.
In the past, getting into arguments and fights with his brother had always felt strangely satisfying. Alas, for some reason it had stopped being so.
Hence, Harry had finally resorted to fleeing from the castle as soon as his lessons with Tom at the hands of their private tutors ended. Most evenings, he took Ulysses along into the unkempt, overgrown gardens, at last making good use of his spare time.
He couldn't directly work on studying Ancient Runes to come up with a way in which to disable their Trace Charms, but at least he could surreptitiously investigate the wards of the Von Krauss estate.
Pretending to have suddenly developed an artistic flare, he took parchments, ink, and quill, sat crossed legged as close to the wards as he dared, and made of show of doing nothing more than sketching – drawing views of the castle and moat, of Ulysses playing with weeds and withered flowers, even of Tom and Malfoy.
Granted, he had never been very good at sketching, his drawings always looking like stick figures or amoeba-like blobs, but they served their purpose.
It was the perfect excuse for him to eye his surroundings for as long as he liked, without showing that the wards glowed before his naked eyes, that he could see every single interlinked chain of ancient runes dancing along the lattice of magic that composed the wards. And that he was in fact jotting down the symbols in the tiny spaces of the corners and margins of his awful, messy sketches.
Once he was back at Hogwarts, it would be easy to research the ancient runes, to translate them, to figure out precisely which sequence was the one that made the wards counteract their Trace Charms, allowing them to freely practice Dark Arts curses and cast magic in general without the English Ministry of Magic finding out.
Nonetheless, he found that his new pursuit wasn't as distracting as he had hoped.
It felt surreal to him that given all the important things he had on his plate, and given the danger of their grave situation -still not knowing what Grindelwald wanted from them or his motives- his thoughts turned time and again towards Tom.
That Malfoy had gone back to England to spend the last three days of holidays with his grandfather was a small mercy. That Konrad Von Krauss had not been lying and it had become evident that the Dark Lord would not be paying them a 'visit' during the summer holidays was merely a trifle. That he had had no news about how Alphard Black had been faring, or how concerned he had been for Julian Erlichmann after his perplexing first encounter with Kasimira Von Krauss, were just passing thoughts.
It was all about the things Malfoy had said to him, about fancying boys, about incest, about his own bloody brother liking him in a manner that no brother should.
Even the dream -which Harry had finally accepted that it had not been a mere dream at all, because he was certain his own imagination could not possibly be as wild, creepy, and bizarre as to have concocted such horrible, horrendous things- didn't faze him much, any longer.
So, he had visions of sorts about being a bloke called Antares. So, apparently he had few years left before dying. So, he had enjoyed snogging Santi, of all people, and had been aroused by it. So, it was very important that he found 'It' – obviously only two things came to mind, the very things he and Tom had come to suspect about and wanted to find for their own reasons.
All that was fine – peachy, in fact. Harry took it all in stride and couldn't care less, actually, because all those things were driven away when he was plagued with shameful thoughts about his own brother – wondering about what Tom's 'possessiveness' of him truly meant, finding himself watching Tom at all times, seeing him with new eyes, appreciating Tom's good looks… a boy, and his brother.
It was utterly abominable, but also ridiculous and absolutely foolish to be constantly worried and tormented with such notions when he should be thinking about countless of vastly more important things, and it angered him beyond measure.
One more reason for which he couldn't wait to be back at Hogwarts, amongst crowds of other boys, and more importantly, girls, to have a chance to ogle them instead of Tom. He would finally know peace then, and be able to make progress in his many tasks, he was certain.
"What's on your mind?"
Harry blinked and then glared at Tom who was eyeing him closely with piercing eyes.
Instantly bristling and going red, Harry spat snarkily, "What do you care? Mind your own bloody business!"
Tom arched an unimpressed eyebrow at him, as he said coolly, "Something has been troubling you. I can tell, little brother."
Harry seethed, having the fleeting desire to strangle the idiot – the very cause of all his troubles, of his disgusting, tormented thoughts, really.
And there he was, elegantly poised in his armchair like an emperor on his throne, with that characteristic arrogant, superior look on his perfect face – perfect waves of dark hair, perfect dark blue eyes, perfect lips, perfect poncy way of dressing and grooming himself, 'brilliant, tall, dark, and handsome' like so many girls at Hogwarts gushed about –indeed!– if people only knew that his polite and charming ways were just a façade, if they only knew what an utter vicious bastard Tom truly was, the prat, who was now condescendingly smirking at him as if Harry had gone soft in the head and was truly the dimwit Tom frequently accused him of being, and even had the gall to patronizingly call him 'little brother' as usual, unknowingly rubbing it in, making Harry inwardly blanch and feel ill.
"Sod off!" snarled Harry in the next second, violently grabbing his books and marching out the room in brisk, furious strides.
The crowd in Platform Nine and Three Quarters looked as frantic, fearful, and apprehensive as in the day that students had rushed out of the Hogwarts Express during The Blitz.
Many parents were glancing around fretfully at the walls and ceiling, as they hastily herded their children into the train and towards the safety of Hogwarts, as if expecting that that day too London would be bombed.
Harry knew better, of course. After all, Grindelwald's newest acquisitions and Von Krauss' priced 'wards' were in the building. He doubted a single German airplane would even appear in the London skies that day – a much needed respite for the muggle inhabitants of the city, at least.
The glamoured Konrad Von Krauss stood right next to him, once more looking like 'Lord Alistair Ashcroft', and playing to perfection the part of a wealthy, eccentric muggle aristocrat, glancing around with wide, awe-struck and fascinated eyes, chattering happily about this and that casual display of magic, eyeing the students' cages of toads, owls and other pets with feigned interest and excitement, commenting on the 'dresses' adult wizards wore, the hats of witches, the 'twigs' waved around and whatnot.
Harry nodded and plastered a smile on his face when it was his cue, all the while holding Ulysses' basket in one hand and the handle of his brand new trunk on the other.
He was now the indifferent owner of several wardrobes-worth of clothes. Between the posh wizarding attires confectioned by Von Krauss' tailor and the expensive muggle outfits that 'Lord Alistair Ashcroft' had before then bought for his newly adopted sons, his new trunk was filled to the brim, on top of the many German and Dark Arts textbooks they now possessed.
A new trunk to be added to his original one, that he had left like many other students in the Hogwarts Express when fleeing, which was awaiting for him in his dormitory in Slytherin House, according to a footnote in his Hogwarts' letter.
Now clothed in rich, brand new school robes, Harry determinedly refused to even glance at his brother, even when he caught sight from the corner of his eyes of the flash of silver of the Prefect badge Tom had pinned on his chest, certainly displaying it with much aloof self-satisfaction.
Indeed, he was so resolutely gazing at anything other than his brother that he noticed the unmistakable signs. The letters Tom had forced Malfoy to write and send had evidently already taken effect.
He could see it in the clusters formed by dark purebloods with their children, the parents of Slytherins, many shooting the glamoured Von Krauss sly looks and covert, respectful bows of the head, to then dart glances at Harry and Tom with glints of interest in their eyes.
Only twice did Von Krauss deign to surreptitiously return the gesture: first to Old Maximillian Malfoy, of course –with Abraxas by his side, looking more smug and haughty than ever before, making Harry scowl and glance away when the git smirked at him- and then to Pollux Black.
Pollux Black who didn't mask his narrow-eyed expression of greed and gauging curiosity as he laid eyes on Harry and Tom. Pollux Black who was surrounded by his children, most important of all, Alphard, who looked thin and gaunt to Harry's eyes. Alphard who was staring at his shoes with head hanging low, who -Harry could have sworn- shot him a brief, sidelong glance before quickly gazing back at the floor.
Harry worriedly bit his lower lip at that, only jerked out of his troubled thoughts as the glamoured Von Krauss handed over a heavy, velvety pouch.
"Your allowance for the next couple of months," informed them the wizard, to then lower his voice to a mere murmur, "The Dark Lord is satisfied with your progress thus far. You will find your recompense to be more than generous."
"Right," said Harry tetchily, in no mood to play nice as he briskly pocketed the heavy pouch undoubtedly filled with galleons.
The pudgy face of 'Lord Alistair Ashcroft' looked weird when the wizard narrowed his eyes at him, as he said in a sharp whisper, "I hope it is not necessary for me to reiterate my-"
"Threats?" Harry crisply muttered under his breath. Instantly regretting it, he reined in his temper and shot Von Krauss a forced, pleasant smile. "No, of course not. I'll behave."
"You will," said the wizard sternly, one bushy eyebrow arching, in a frosty expression that looked outright ridiculous in the glamoured face, "as you are well aware of the consequences if you do not."
Mutely, Harry stiffly nodded.
He could even feel Tom shooting him a glowering, scathing look, before his brother inquired so very politely, "Sir, will we be spending our winter holidays with you?"
"It remains to be seen," replied Von Krauss curtly, before he beamed at them with his glamoured face, abruptly hugging them as warmly as any new, adoptive and soft-hearted father would do.
Clearly not one to miss a chance, the wizard hissed out sharply into their ears in mid-embrace, "If you give Albus Dumbledore any reason to even remotely entertain any suspicion regarding your true circumstances, the price you will pay will pale in comparison to any previous threats-" he momentarily paused to give Harry a chilling look "-I have made. Am I understood?"
"Yes," said Harry flatly as he warmly smiled up at him.
He spent most of his journey in the Hogwarts Express sequestered in a compartment with Tom, fully busying himself with writing down on a spare bit of parchment all the ancient runes symbols he had hidden in his 'sketches', wholly ignoring the many Slytherin faces that appeared on the window of their door, taking a peek and gazing at them with guarded wariness and wonder.
Tom, for his part, seemed to be satisfied in shooting their onlookers lofty, arrogant smirks or giving them magnanimous tips of the head.
"You believe the solution lies in those?" demanded Tom sharply the moment another Slytherin face vanished from the door.
Harry briefly glanced up at his brother, seeing how he was intently eyeing his jotted down runes.
"Possibly," he retorted shortly, returning to his work.
Tom made a sound of irritation and dark annoyance – for whatever reason of his own, since Harry wasn't about to pay him any mind or even look at his brother to check what the problem was- before rising to his feet.
"Where are you going?" muttered Harry, stiffening and going still when Tom moved towards the door, yet keeping his eyes glued to his parchment.
"Prefect duties," declared Tom superiorly, before he acidly sneered, "Don't expect me to return any time soon."
The moment the compartment door was slammed shut, Harry dropped his quill and sighed heavily as he rubbed his face.
He distractedly petted Ulysses as he scowled at himself. At the rate he was going –with such a strange tension building up between them after every stupid quarrel- Tom was bound to realize at some point what the matter was.
"What do you think I should do, huh?" Harry mumbled dispiritedly as he gazed down at his Scorcrup.
Ulysses cocked his head to a side, and licked his fingers, purring loudly.
"Yup, you're right," ground out Harry, clenching his jaw. "Keep to myself, keep busy, and do as planned."
And somehow find a way in which he could 'summon' Santi to appear before him. 'Dream' be damned, no matter how very awkward he was certain he would feel when meeting him now, he nonetheless had many questions to ask him – important, vital, urgent questions. He couldn't just wait around till Santi decided to make an impromptu appearance.
"Harry," breathed out an anxious voice.
Startled, Harry jerked his head up, instantly grinning widely when he caught sight of Alphard fretfully hovering by the parted door of the compartment.
"Come in!" he said effusively as he took hold of the boy and pulled him inside. "Sit, sit!"
He paused as he eyed Alphard closely, now even noticing that his friend had dark circles under his eyes.
It made him wince as he muttered apprehensively, "What happened? Your father heard you when you yelled my name, didn't he?"
Alphard frowned at him, before he said with exasperation, "It wasn't your fault, you idiot! It was my own for panicking, for forgetting myself, for not being cautious-"
"Because you were scared for me," interjected Harry dourly.
Alphard shook his head, as he said firmly, "I don't regret it."
"It seems as though you should." Harry cast him a worried gaze. "You don't look well."
"I'm perfectly fine," said Alphard with a dismissive snort.
"He did punish you, didn't he?" pressed Harry in a soft voice.
Alphard shot him a quizzical look, before he scoffed. "What, did you fear that my father held me under a Cruciatus Curse or something of the sort?" He rolled his eyes. "He wouldn't dare, not with Dorea and Cygnus around."
"So…" Harry frowned at him uneasily. "Then… what happened?"
"Nothing much," said Alphard nonchalantly. "Wanted to know why it was that I seemed to be on a first-name basis with you, wanted to glean everything I knew about you, I refused to answer his questions-" he shot him a vehement look "- you know I'd rather die than betray your trust! I told him none of your secrets, of course!"
Harry jerkily nodded his head, feeling deeply touched by his best mate's staunch, steadfast loyalty, as the boy continued with an unconcerned shrug of his shoulders, "So he locked me up in my room, only allowing house-elves to pop in to bring me trays of food."
Further paling, Harry was swept with guilt. He knew very well that Alphard was just like him, someone who couldn't stand to be indoors for too long, someone who needed to be out in the sunlight, with space and freedom.
"You spent all your holidays locked up?" he said grimly, cringing in horror.
"Not all," said Alphard pointedly. Suddenly looking anxious as he lowered his voice, he rushed out, "Abraxas wrote to us – to all Slytherins it seems. I wasn't allowed to receive owls but Father showed me the letter Cygnus received, and he demanded to know…"
The boy trailed off, looking half terrified and half worried out of his mind, pinning Harry with a searching gaze. "That was the Dark Lord's right hand man in the platform of the Hogwarts Express, wasn't he?" He swallowed thickly, as he added in a pained whisper, "Konrad Von Krauss?"
"Yes," said Harry quietly.
Alphard's face lost all color as he jumped to his feet, pacing in the narrow space between the opposing rows of seats.
"This is bad... this is very bad," muttered the boy looking highly distressed as he shot Harry wary glances over his shoulder. "When you told me about Grindelwald's letter and the Durmstrang books he had sent you, I thought his interest in you was solely based on the fact that you and Tom are Slytherin's descendants-"
"I remember, Al," interjected Harry in a mollifying tone of voice.
Alphard shook his head angrily. "But you thought it could be something more – you suspected and feared it and I dismissed it! But I was wrong - this proves it!" He cast him a glance filled with trepidation. "The Dark Lord wouldn't have ordered his most trusted follower to essentially adopt you if he didn't have some dastardly scheme up his sleeve!"
"Dastardly?" Harry chuckled in wry amusement before he was quick to soothe his friend, "Al, Tom and I are aware that he must want us for something-"
"But you don't actually know," interrupted Alphard sharply, "what the 'something' is, do you?"
"Well… no," conceded Harry, with a heavy sigh. "Not yet."
Alphard stared at him with anxious, big grey eyes. "You don't understand, Harry. When my father let me out of my room and told me that I was tasked with getting close to you-"
"He did?" Harry stared at him, momentarily taken aback, before he soon beamed joyfully. "But then, that's fantastic! It means that-"
"Yes, that is great," agreed Alphard with a happy, toothy grin. "I can openly be your friend now, and report back to my father whatever you want me to say." He shook his head abruptly, as he snapped impatiently, "But you're not listening to me. Father received a letter that day, and I have just found out from other Slytherins that many of their parents did so as well – on the very same day. It must have been from the Dark Lord, you see?"
Harry blanched, as he muttered gloomily, "With news about his plans to attack some country, I reckon?"
"That's just it," interjected Alphard, fretfully chewing his bottom lip, "I don't think it could have simply been something like that."
"Simply?" Harry scowled at him, incensed. "I hardly think that another country falling into Grindelwald's clutches is a 'simple' matter-"
"What I mean," bit out Alphard with exasperation, "is that my father has received news such as that before, and it merely made him look satisfied." He frantically gestured with his hands. "But during the past few days, Father's been downright giddy! This is something else. Something very serious is going on-" he shot him a pointed look "- and since on that very same day he told me it was my duty to 'befriend' you to learn as much as I could about you, then it evidently has something to do with you! And only you – he didn't tell me to cozy up to your brother!"
Harry blinked at the outburst, to then eye him warily. "Um… alright, so what do you suspect?"
"I haven't the faintest," bemoaned Alphard, his shoulders slumping. "I had half a mind to break into my father's study to take a peek at the letter he received-" he gave him a deeply apologetic look "- but after all the trouble I had gotten into with him, I didn't dare do it."
"That's alright, Al," said Harry soothingly. "I wouldn't expect you to risk-"
"But I should have," Alphard cut in, groaning despairingly. "I would have, if I had known then that other supporters of the Dark Lord had also received letters on that day. I only realized it was something grave, that certainly involves you, just a few moments ago when other Slytherins mentioned their parents also getting letters-"
"I understand," insisted Harry in a soft voice. "But you've done plenty for me already-"
"Not enough," grunted Alphard, stony faced. "Because now I'm sure you're right, and I think you have much to fear." He heavily plopped down on a seat, shooting him an irked look. "And you should hear Abraxas! He's back there with all the Slytherins, milking it for all it's worth, basking in the attention now that he's the go-to person for anyone that wants to know more about you and Tom. He's been saying all sorts of things-"
"Things?" Harry froze, staring at him with appalled, wide green eyes. "What… 'things', exactly?"
"What he already said in his letters," said Alphard, scowling with deep annoyance, "added to his own flourishes and details, of course. He's become such a prat-"
"But," pressed Harry anxiously, swallowing thickly, "he didn't say anything… er… private, did he?"
"Private?" Alphard blinked at him, bemused. "Such as?"
Shrugging, and feeling vastly relieved, Harry shook his head. "Never mind."
"Harry," whispered Alphard, his tone suddenly grave as he leaned forward to pierce him with big, grey eyes, "I think it's vital, now more than ever before, for us to accomplish the Animagus Transformation."
"Of course," said Harry warmly, perking up and grinning at him. "I'm looking forward to it. We'll have loads of fun together."
Alphard shook his head, as he shot him a curt look. "I mean, that it is essential for you. It depends on whether you have the ability to become one, and the nature of your Animagus form, of course, but being an Animagus is mightily useful, Harry, when in a tight spot." He pinned him with a grim, pointed look. "Given your situation, it could even save your hide. Do you understand my meaning?"
Harry sobered up, nodding. "Sure. I'm hoping for some useful Animagus form myself." He grinned sharply at him. "Something small that, if necessary, could easily scurry away from-"
"From the Dark Lord," murmured Alphard nodding, looking pleased that they were on the same page. He then cheerfully beamed at him as he rushed out, "When I went shopping for school supplies with my family in Diagon Alley, I managed to slip away. I've already bought from Knockturn most of the ingredients we'll be needing for the tests." He shot him a proud look. "The rest, I'll buy by owl during the next couple of months-"
"Here's my contribution, then," interjected Harry, instantly fishing out the large pouch of galleons, vastly relieved when he handed it over.
Alphard frowned at him, with pouch in hands. "You don't need to give me this-"
"Alphie, it's Von Krauss money," said Harry sternly. "I owe you a lot already. I don't want it, so take it."
Alphard unknotted the silk cord, peering into the pouch before he cast him a hesitant glance. "Are you certain? There's a small fortune in here-"
"Good," said Harry shortly. "All yours."
His friend, in a usual display of implicitly understanding Harry's reasoning and feelings, clearly realized that Harry would be angered and offended if he pressed the issue, and Harry smiled at Alphard when the boy nodded and pocketed the pouch without another word.
"This will be a busy year for us," remarked Alphard contently as he stretched out his legs.
Harry grinned, nodding, for it would certainly be so, more than the boy could realize, in fact, in Harry's case.
"Hagrid, Rubeus!"
Only then did Harry notice that his housemates took an interest in the Sorting of First Years instead of shooting him and Tom surreptitious looks. Granted, he supposed he should be feeling relieved that the Slytherins' sentiments towards him and his brother seemed to have drastically changed.
Indeed, there were few the faces that held lingering doubts, hatred, or outright despise for them. Now, most had spent all the time during the Welcoming Feast gazing at him and Tom with grudging wonder, covetousness and greed to know more, thrilled excitement, and above all, great anticipation.
Tom's plot of making Malfoy write those letters had certainly bore its fruits. He could feel his brother oozing pleased self-satisfaction, at that.
Even Alphard's sister, Walburga, Harry's most nasty and outspoken enemy in Slytherin House, seemed to have ceased her blatant hostility towards him.
Although looking as if sucking on a sour lemon, the girl had glanced at him, given him a stiff, jerky nod of the head and then looked away. That her gaze then lingered on Tom for quite a while, the girl looking more fascinated than ever before, didn't even bother him that much.
No doubt, Pollux Black had ordered his daughter to not antagonize him, and that was good enough for Harry.
On the other hand, Dorea Black didn't seem to care two straws that the allegedly self-declared -and still to be proven- Slytherin's Heirs were now also the wards of the Dark Lord's right hand man – that they were apparently taken under Von Krauss' wing, part of the ranks, shooting their way up into the pureblood echelons of social and political influence and clout, right smack in the middle of things.
Quite literally, she had told him such, when the girl had pounced on him the moment Harry stepped out of the Hogwarts Express.
"... and I couldn't care less about all the promotion Abraxas is giving you," she had added crisply, as she closely inspected him with her gaze. "You look well-fed and healthy – that is what matters, for you cannot forget what you owe me-"
"I haven't," Harry had interjected dryly. "I told you I'd play Quidditch and I always keep my word. You'll have a player in 'good conditions'."
"Splendid." Dorea's whole countenance had changed once making sure that she was getting her own way. Her grey eyes gleamed with pleasure as she informed him placidly, "I'll let you know the date for the Team's tryouts."
Certainly, he hadn't dared tell her about the small setback. He had told no one about Norway and wasn't about to do so just to explain that, in fact, he didn't have the Comet 180 any longer. One of the ancient school brooms would have to do while Harry tried to come up with a solution.
"He's a halfbreed," furiously spat Priscilla Pucey at present, making Harry take notice given the violent tone of appalled hatred and disgust in her voice.
"Certainly he cannot be!" gasped out Druella Rosier, horrified. "Surely the Headmaster would not dare admit such filth in Hogwarts!"
"Look at the mongrel's size!" hissed out Capricia Carrow, her eyes flashing with outrage. "Indubitably, he has Giant blood, at the very least."
"Giant!" choked out Druella in alarm, with round eyes and a revolted and terrified expression on her beautiful face.
Harry then finally caught sight of the boy who was garnering so much negative attention from the Slytherins and students of others Houses as well, his green eyes widening in amazement.
It was clear that the boy couldn't be purely human: hulking, immense, taller even than many seventh-year students, with a tangle of thick, wiry black hair, and broad, blunt facial features. Yet, Harry thought that there was something endearing about the first year, as the boy awkwardly fumbled his way towards the stool holding the Sorting Hat.
He looked timid, thoroughly unsure of himself, and terrified, though any sense of jittery nerves and shyness seemed to sometimes disappear when the immense boy darted his black eyes all around the Great Hall, with an expression of awe, wonderment, and reverent fascination – eyeing the magnificent House banners floating high above each respective table, the lit candles swaying in the air, the transparent, high-arched ceilings displaying the late evening sky with sparkling stars – everything seemingly dazzling and enchanting him.
Harry found himself grinning at the boy's reactions, and to his amusement, the Sorting Hat barely stayed on the boy's mane of hair for a split second before roaring, "GRYFFINDOR!"
The claps from the boy's new housemates were sparse and brief – apparently not even the 'courageous' lions knowing how to react to having a half-Giant in their midst. Most were grimacing, blanching, or narrowing their eyes at their newest addition.
"He's going to be a source of much entertainment, eh?" Alphard whispered at him, chuckling as he jabbed an elbow into Harry's side. "Look at the Gryffs, they're pissing themselves in their pants, so scared they are!"
Harry scoffed at that, shaking his head. "They're going to give him a hard time. Probably more so because they are afraid of him."
"Better and better, then," said Alphard, sniggering under his breath. "The Giant will lash out in self-defense and we'll be playing against crippled Gryffs in the Quidditch Pitch." He shot him a jaunty wink. "Easy win."
Harry gave him a wryly amused look, though he doubted that the half-Giant would retaliate against bullies in any way. He caught a glimpse of him ducking his head low as if attempting to make himself look smaller. Quite clearly, no matter his frightening size, the boy was harmless, and too eager to fit in and pass unnoticed.
Tom indolently raised a hand in the air, making Harry inwardly groan when he saw Bathsheba Babbling blinking uncertainly at the list of students.
It was their last class of the day, and Harry's first lesson of one of the O.W.L.s elective courses he had chosen for his Third Year: Study of Ancient Runes, shared with the Gryffindors.
Professor Babbling was a young witch who had proven to be easily excited into gushing and rushing out when giving explanations, speaking so very fast and eagerly that Harry was forced to pay utmost attention to attempt to catch all her words.
And of course that his brother was the first to raise his hand to politely wait to be called on to answer the question the professor had posed.
The problem was that it was happening again.
Indeed, Bathsheba Babbling stared owlishly at Tom, saying hesitantly, "You may answer, er – Mr. Riddle?" She glanced at the roster again. "Um, Mr. Riddle-Ashcroft?" The witch shot Tom a desperate look. "Eh… Mr. Ashcroft?"
"Mr. Riddle as usual is quite acceptable, madam," intoned Tom graciously, shooting her a charming smile.
Babbling looked mightily relieved as she smiled back at Tom and gestured at him to reply to her question.
Indeed, during the first day of school all teachers seemed to have the same problem of not quite knowing how to address him and Tom. They certainly had to know that some muggle man had adopted them, since it had been filed in the Ministry of Magic. And given that they had been addressed as 'Riddle-Ashcroft' in their Hogwarts letters, it nevertheless seemed as though there were still some lingering doubts about proper formality in such an unusual case as that of orphaned magical children being adopted by a muggle.
Furthermore, all the hype surrounding Harry and Tom's changed circumstances was making the Slytherins lose their characteristic cool composure and subtlety, as they were the only ones who were aware of the truth behind it all and too willingly reveled in it.
Just then, Druella Rosier tittered, Neron Lestrange and Orion Black shared sly, knowing smirks, and Abraxas Malfoy looked unbearably smug and conceited, as if he had known from the start that the Riddle twins were no mudbloods at all and of much interest to the Dark Lord, and as though it was all the boy's doing that Von Krauss had taken them in.
Harry had already shared classes with all other Houses, and in previous lessons, their professors' uncertainty regarding which surname to call him by had already given way to much gossip among the non-Slytherin students.
Even now, he caught sight of Felicity and Felix Prewett shooting him quizzical glances.
The only teacher that hadn't stammered or hesitated had been Dumbledore, who had calmly called him 'Mr. Riddle' as always. Although it hadn't made Harry feel any less uneasy.
Indeed, he had expected for the wizard to ask him to stay behind after class, to have a private chat regarding his adoption. When Dumbledore did not, Harry was left with the certainty that the wizard suspected some foul play – even possibly the truth, to some degree.
After all, it had been Harry who had told him that Tilly Toke had been Grindelwald's spy, hence implicitly revealing Grindelwald's interest in him and Tom – proving it, even. Dumbledore was not a man to have forgotten or dismissed such an important fact.
At least, Harry dearly hoped so – Albus Dumbledore was his safety net, as far as he was concerned.
Harry spent the remainder of the lesson listening attentively to Babbling, and for once taking detailed notes. He was determined to crack the problem of disabling their Trace Charms, and wards and Ancient Runes was the key.
He wasn't all that surprised when he was ambushed by the Prewetts twins the moment the lesson ended and he stepped out of the classroom.
"Harry, a word?" whispered Felicity, her pretty mismatched eyes darting around warily.
Harry nodded, following the red-haired twins into an empty classroom nearby.
"What are all these rumors about you being an orphan," said Felicity looking pained, as soon as they closed the door, "and being adopted during the holidays and whatnot?" She shot him a searching look. "You told us you had parents! And relatives!"
Harry sighed deeply, carding a hand through his hair. "I lied." At her hurt expression, he quickly added, "Look, it was Tom's idea. He didn't… er, want people to know we were orphans – didn't want the pity, you see? So he said we had muggle parents and I went along with it."
Felicity eyed him uncertainly, as she mumbled, "But then… that muggle soldier that our cousin Ignatius managed to find information about – he was your aunt's fiancé, you said-"
"Robert Hutchins was a friend, an acquaintance," interrupted Harry, wincing. "Nothing more. I said that to give you more reason to want to help me find what had happened to him in the warfront."
"It's true, then," interjected Felix as he straddled a chair, crossing his arms on top of the backrest as his eyebrows climbed to his hairline. "You're an orphan and you've been adopted by a muggle? Some sort of nobleman?"
Harry leaned against the teacher's desk, chuckling under his breath. "A muggle 'lord', yes. Alistair Ashcroft."
Felix whistled appreciatively, as he eyed Harry's brand new robes. "And filthy rich by the looks of it – you look very dapper, for once." He waggled his eyebrows, grinning. "Already pampering you with expensive things, is he? Did the muggle enjoy the shopping day in Diagon Alley?"
"A lot," said Harry, smiling widely.
"Oh, Felix, who cares about that!" snapped Felicity impatiently, glowering at her twin. "Let's not beat around the bubotuber." She swiftly turned to Harry, her expression softening as she added apprehensively, "Harry, I wished you had trusted us as to tell us the truth from the start-"
"I'm sorry for that," said Harry softly.
"It's alright. I think I understand." Felicity gave him a faint smile, before she sighed heavily. "Nevertheless, what I'm getting at, is that it all seems very dodgy." She shot him a worried look. "Muggles don't usually go about adopting wizarding children. How well do you know this Ashcroft person? He could have ill intentions-"
"He doesn't," cut in Harry firmly, before he beamed at her joyfully. "Alistair Ashcroft is truly a great man. He's been visiting my orphanage for ages, Tom and I have known him since we were little boys." He stepped closer to her to grasp her hands in his, adding warmly, "I thank you for your concern, but truly, he saved us." He paused and quirked an eyebrow at her significantly. "You do remember that London was being bombed when the Hogwarts Express arrived at King's Cross Station, right?"
Felicity paled, as she murmured quietly, "Of course, how could I ever forget?"
"It was then when Ashcroft came looking for us at our orphanage, worried sick about our safety," continued Harry adamantly. "When he asked us if we would finally consent to be his sons, we didn't think about it twice and gladly agreed." He squeezed her hands before releasing them, as he smiled widely at her. "Ever since, we've been safe, living with him. It has been great."
Felicity bit her bottom lip, eyeing him uneasily. "But, Harry, you weren't there."
Harry frowned at her, as he said cautiously, "Where?"
"What my sister is trying to say," interjected Felix, shooting his twin an exasperated look, "is that Dumbledore went looking for you." He rolled his eyes. "Don't know why he decided to stick his nose in your affairs, but-"
"Dumbledore didn't 'stick his nose'!" bit out Felicity bristling, glaring angrily at her brother. "He was understandably worried about Harry." She huffed proudly. "He takes great interest in ensuring his students' wellbeing, which denotes just what a great wizard and teacher he is-"
Felix snorted loudly at that. "Harry's a Slytherin, Lissy. And I've never seen Dumbledore caring about the snakes-"
"Of course he does!" snapped Felicity incensed, her brown and blue eyes flashing. "He's not a prejudiced man-"
"Please! He's our Head of House – a Gryffindor through and through, and-"
"If we could get to the point?" interjected Harry loudly, raising his hands to catch their attention, knowing that if he didn't cut short the twins' bickering they could go on for hours.
"As you must know, Dumbledore is the Deputy Headmaster," said Felix flatly, turning his face around to stare at him, "and as such, it's his task to send the Hogwarts letters. When he was doing so, he saw that your name and address had changed-"
"He was very puzzled and concerned, Harry," interjected Felicity swiftly, fretfully clutching her hands. "He asked our father to look into it, and Dad found the records of your adoption in the Ministry of Magic-"
"And Dumbledore," continued Felix with a roll of his eyes, "went to pay you a visit to your new home-"
"But he didn't find you there!" cut in Felicity, staring at Harry with large, anxious eyes. "The servants were very rude to him, apparently, and wouldn't tell him where you or Tom or your new father were. Dumbledore has been very worried ever since, according to Father." She shot him a stern look. "And so were we! We didn't understand anything!"
"That bit is very true," piped in Felix, giving him a gauging glance, frowning. "Where have you been?"
"America," said Harry instantly, casting them a thoroughly perplexed look of wondering what all the fuss was about. "Alistair Ashcroft took us there to show us the ropes, you know? He has businesses over there."
The ginger-haired twins blinked at him.
"America?" echoed Felicity, startled, before her mismatched eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Where in America, exactly?"
"New York," blurted out Harry, the first name that popped into his mind.
"Really?" said Felix, perking up with interest and excitement. "Is it really as great as everyone says? Cousin Ignatius is always talking about the trip he had to take there for work, and he loved it and said that-"
"How is it, New York?" demanded Felicity, still eyeing him with a scrutinizing look.
"Er, very grand, yeah," said Harry, thinking fast and hard about every little thing he had ever overheard muggles or the radio saying about the foreign city. He gestured with his hands eagerly. "Filled with tall buildings – those skyscraper things, and filled with all sorts of people! It was a lot of fun!"
"Truly?" intoned Felicity slowly, arching an eyebrow at him. "And was the Wizarding Quarter to your liking?"
"Wizarding quarter?" Harry blinked at her, with the stupidest, most innocent expression he could muster. "Er – Ashcroft is a muggle, so he didn't take us to any wizarding venues."
"Oh, right," muttered Felicity under her breath, scowling. "I suppose that would explain your lack of knowledge, if the man is truly a muggle-"
"Look," interrupted Harry testily, frowning deeply at them with an offended look on his face. "What's all this about?"
Felix snorted as he leaned forward from his chair to pat Harry. "It's not your fault, mate. Sorry for questioning you. It's Dumbledore." He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I've always said that he's a tad barmy-"
"He's not!" snapped Felicity heatedly, instantly rounding on him. "Harry's adoption sounds very fishy to me as well. Dumbledore is just looking out for Harry-"
"Looking out how?" interjected Harry coolly, although piercing them with his eyes attentively.
"He acted a bit frantic over the holidays, if you ask me," scoffed out Felix, an irritated expression on his face. "Popped into our house to ask our father for help, asked us loads of questions about you-"
"What questions?" demanded Harry shortly, crossing his arms over his chest, glowering.
"He knows we are your friends," replied Felicity quickly, her tone soft and mollifying. "He just wanted to make sure we would remain being so-"
"Please!" snorted out Felix loudly, before he gave Harry a pointed look. "He thinks you've turned dark or something of the sort. He thinks something's afoot. He thinks your adoption is some sort of cover-up, and-"
"We don't know that!" bit out Felicity, glaring at her brother. "Dumbledore didn't say any of those things to us-"
"It's obvious, isn't it?" snapped Felix impatiently at her. "Why else ask us to invite Harry over to stay with us during the next summer holidays? It's clear that he doesn't trust this Alistair Ashcroft fellow! It's clear that he wants to take Harry away from the muggle! And I don't see why Dumbledore has to butt in-"
"If he is a muggle!" yelled Felicity furiously. "It seems to me that Dumbledore doubts it. So he's right to meddle, isn't he? Professor Dumbledore is acting according to his suspicions, as I see it, and Dumbledore is hardly ever wrong, is he?"
"He's been wrong plenty of times! I'd just wish you would someday stop singing his praises at every turn!"
Harry left the Prewett twins bickering once more amongst themselves, his spirits high. Indeed, he couldn't have been more pleased by the revelations.
To know that Dumbledore suspected much felt like a soothing balm. To understand that the wizard hadn't asked to see him in private because the man knew there could be eyes watching, was a relief. After all, Harry himself suspected that there had to be a new spy at Hogwarts, and evidently, so did Dumbledore.
The wizard was being cautious, and Harry was thankful for that. He had to give the impression to whomever was Grindelwald's new spy that he had not only meekly resigned himself to being under the Dark Lord's thumb, and that he was taking Konrad Von Krauss' threats on Mrs. Cole and his friends' lives seriously, but also that he was warming up to the idea of being on the 'dark side', seeing nothing but its many advantages.
Nevertheless, he hardly thought that Dumbledore could do a thing to contest their adoption by 'Lord Alistair Ashcroft' – Konrad Von Krauss had been too thorough. It didn't mean, however, that it could prevent Harry from directly asking Dumbledore's help if the need ever arose. He knew how to get into the professor's office undetected, away from spying and prying eyes, after all.
Knowing he still had Albus Dumbledore on his side, in a sense, did much to allay his worries, and the months passed swiftly as autumn turned to winter.
Keeping constantly busy had proven to be the answer to his conundrum. He had begun the next stage of searching for an entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, with The Three Musketeers' Map and Alphard and Ulysses along for the ride, on the fifth floor of the castle, he continued on his own his studies of Healing, progressed with deciphering the ancient runes of Von Krauss Castle's wards, and had been taking all his classes very seriously, in preparation for the future O.W.L.s examinations.
"You're becoming quite a bookworm," observed Tom one day, his tone sounding dryly pleased. "You've finally acquired some maturity-"
"I know how to do it!" snarled Harry, violently wrenching his wrist away from Tom's fingers, who had been showing him how to perform the required wand motions.
Harry didn't see why Tom had to touch him so much for it, why his brother had taken hold of his hand in his, mimicking the required wand movements for the curse they were practicing.
Nowadays, he always did his best to keep a safe distance between him and his brother, anything else bothered him in the extreme, not liking how it made him feel.
It was another day in which they spend all their leisure hours progressing in their studies of Occlumency and Legilimency, wandless magic, German, or the Dark Arts, ensconced in the Room of Requirements, this time their surroundings imitating those of the Dueling Chamber of Slytherin House.
Already, once before, Tom had commended Harry's surprising new attitude. Little did Tom know that when alone with him, Harry always sat with nose stuck in books, concentrating in learning, because the alternative was to stare at Tom like an ogling idiot.
"Prove it," hissed out Tom sharply, narrowing his eyes at him, dark with irritation.
"Displodum!" snapped Harry, swishing his wand in the air at the fleshy dummy before him.
In an instant, a purple beam struck it, making the dummy burst into tiny bits, completely dismembering it, thick splashes of blood-like liquid and fleshy substance staining the floor.
"Not bad," remarked Tom coolly.
"Not bad?" bit out Harry, scowling though not looking at him, as he rubbed his scar that was tingling pleasantly, as always whenever he used Dark Magic. "Bloody brilliant, I'd say! That was a sixth-year Durmstrang Dark Arts curse, and I cast it perfectly."
Tom hummed under his breath, noncommittally, and Harry hazarded a quick glance. Somehow, his brother was managing to look both satisfied and irked at the same time, for reasons only known to himself.
"Where are you going?" demanded Tom harshly the next second when Harry swiveled around and stuffed his Dark Arts books into his satchel.
"We're done for the day," said Harry gruffly as he proceeded towards the door. "We've been at it for hours and I've got a date."
"A date?"
Tom's tone was so soft, quiet, and venomously filled with spite, that Harry shot him a look over his shoulder, hand on doorknob.
"Study date with Felicity Prewett," Harry clarified flatly, grinning nastily when Tom's eyes narrowed to slits. "She's very clever. She's been helping me much in preparing for our OWLs in advance."
"I am tutoring you on that," hissed out Tom in a very low, ominous voice.
"So is she," retorted Harry airily before he swept away, wholly ignoring the flare of pain in his scar.
As he trotted down a corridor, he didn't feel an ounce of guilt for spitefully enjoying so much riling up his brother.
It was a vindictive sort of pleasure he felt when he was obvious in his attentions to Felicity Prewett. Indeed, as planned, he had taken to look at her during meals in the Great Hall, to eye her pretty face and red hair, to wonder when her cheeks blushed as their gazes met, to smirk when he felt his scar flaring.
Oh, the latter not because he gave any credence to Malfoy's assertions that Tom's possessiveness and jealousy were caused by 'incestuous' feelings. He doubted his brother could hold such emotions for anyone at all, as highly as Tom thought of himself and so little of everyone else – much less for a boy, and even less for his own twin.
Tom was twisted and jaded, for sure, but not in that way. Lust and urges and physical needs had never seemed to affect him, and least of all, sentimental, sappy feelings.
Nevertheless, that Harry enjoyed spending time with the Prewetts and Alphard had always angered and bothered Tom, and Harry considered it payback.
Payback, indeed, not only for being the cause of Harry's appalled thoughts, but also for being an utter prat, who had milked their new circumstances for all they were worth.
Many curious and gossipy students of other Houses had come to Harry asking questions about his 'adoption', and he had simply replied in the same lines as what he had told the Prewetts. However, he had left the Slytherins to Tom, at Tom's insistence.
And of course that his brother had made a grand show of it, elegantly poised in a armchair in the Slytherin common room, surrounded by avid listeners, as he coolly explained his own version of events.
Aloof and arrogant, Tom smoothly told all Slytherins of how he and Harry had supposedly discovered during the first months of their First Year that they were Slytherin's Heirs, of how Tom had then secretly contacted the Dark Lord, after having heard so much of the wizard and his aims for a better world.
"What do you mean?" had demanded Capricia Carrow, frowning at Tom, suspicion and querulous doubt on her face. "There is no way in which any of us can contact the Dark Lord, and much less you-"
"I have my ways and means," Tom had interjected softly, smirking as he feigned to distractedly toy with the pendant hanging from within his parted school robes.
Tilly Toke's pendant, Harry had seen, with the symbol they all believed to be Grindelwald's mark. Tom was still insistently tinkering with it, certainly because he did want to have a way in which to contact Grindelwald directly and was sure that the pendant had to be a magical device of some sort.
All Slytherins' gazes had zeroed in on the pendant, eyes widening and gasps ensuing when they recognized the mark etched on it.
No matter how much they asked how Tom had acquired it, Tom always responded with silence and a superior, self-important smirk, shrouding himself in even more mystery, lending more fuel to the sort of legend that Tom was quickly becoming in Slytherin House.
And now they all believed that Grindelwald had known about them from the start, had somehow magically detected the existence of Salazar Slytherin's 'lost heirs', had approached them in person, had given Tom the pendant, had made them Von Krauss's wards because of their great importance and because Tom had demanded to be given a proper place in the Dark Lord's ranks, as befitted an heir of Salazar Slytherin - that Tom, in essence, had Grindelwald wrapped around his little finger, vying to please him.
Slyly, Tom had said none of those things outright, but cunningly implied them, letting the Slytherins' imaginations run wild and fill the gaps of his story - to his advantage.
Abraxas Malfoy, the only one in the audience well aware that Tom was spouting utter nonsense, hadn't even beeped a word. Oh, the boy had looked constipated, surely seething because Tom had so thoroughly stolen all the limelight away from him. Yet Malfoy hadn't dared go against Tom's words.
Harry, for his part, had inwardly sighed with irritation, not looking at his brother, and merely proceeded to carry on with his plans.
Indeed, becoming wholly concentrated in his many tasks and studies helped to distract and avert his attention away from Tom, and once he began playing Quidditch, it would serve him even more to be so busy.
It was a pity that Dorea Black and the rest of Quidditch Captains had spent the autumn convincing the Headmaster to let the students watch or participate in the sport. Apparently, Armando Dippet had been about to cancel Quidditch for the year, deigning it too risky to have all students gathered outside the castle in the Quidditch Pitch, given the war with Grindelwald.
One of the few professors to insist that, precisely due to the war, it was imperative for Hogwarts to conduct business as usual -to give the students an excuse to have some fun, a sense of normalcy, and take their minds away from the war outside- had been Dumbledore.
In the end, Dippet had yielded and the Teams' tryouts and Quidditch season would be commencing after winter holidays. There wouldn't be much time for training before the first match and that would only make it more interesting.
Harry was very much looking forward to it, though he had been torn with warring feelings when he and Tom had received a letter signed by 'Lord Alistair Ashcroft', informing them they were 'granted permission' –which they had had no way to ask for, and in Tom's case, no intention of doing so- to remain at school for Christmas.
On one hand, Harry couldn't have been happier to be spared from spending another two weeks in Von Krauss Castle, under the oppressive feeling of being ever watched. On the other, it could only mean that their legal guardian was far too busy as to keep an eye on them in Germany – Grindelwald had to be planning to attack some country soon.
Grim thoughts that the latter arose to a side, there was also the matter of getting a date for the upcoming Yule Ball.
It would be curious and funny, the chain of events and coincidences -he would later muse- that led to make it a night he would never forget – the very beginning of one of the greatest, most astonishing, dangerous, and important discoveries of his life.
One he should not have shared with Tom, if he had only known of the consequences beforehand.