New chapter! I am so overwhelmed by all the feedback-50 reviews already? Thank you all so much and I hope you enjoy! This chapter is slightly shorter than the rest but you'll get a deeper look into some new characters.
More thanks to Roheryn's Knight! I finally learned how to spell your name without copy and pasting it.
Chapter Eight: Confrontations
Thursday—August 8, 1996
For the rest of the week, Harry remained within his rooms. He only ventured out for meals, forced to stay in his rooms as the Dark Lord had commanded. Evan, on the other hand, was in no way subtle in flaunting his ability to walk in and out of the door. He still held a grudge against Harry for his idiocy and his Parseltongue ability. Nevertheless, the man watched in delight, his eyes dancing in dark mirth as Harry and Nagini conversed on the ground.
None of the Malfoys made an appearance, and neither, for the matter, did any Death Eater or the Dark Lord. Harry wasn't expecting such a visit. The man was probably head over heels in scheming new plans that involved him and the war.
Today, however, Harry felt as if something was bound to change.
He woke up afresh to the sound of knocking. Harry stretched his limbs languidly and sighed into the soft feather pillows. Sunlight streamed from the large window to the left and Harry wanted nothing more than to burrow himself in the heavy covers and go back to sleep.
The insistent tapping on the door gave him other plans. Grumbling, Harry threw the covers back and, shivering with the rush of cold air, padded over the wooden door and wrenched it over.
Evan stood in the doorway with a smirk. He was dressed in a set of black robes and dragon-hide boots. In his hands lay a Death Eater mask, the nickel color flashing cruelly in the dim light.
Harry felt himself shake awake. "What happened?" he demanded, summoning similar black robes from his trunk and shrugging them on. He grimaced as he cast a number of cleaning charms on himself. There was obviously no time to do it by hand.
"The Dark Lord called a meeting with all of the Death Eaters. I suspect that it is today that he will announce his plans to reveal their presence. I also have ears that tell me Greyback's pack has been summoned as well"
Excitement coursed through Harry's veins and he grinned widely. "I am more than ready to step out of these doors. Have I been given a mask?"
Harry honestly didn't want to wear a mask. He was trained to hold his markings proudly and he did; they were a sign of his accomplishments and his power. But in order to join raids, he would have to and Harry wanted nothing more than to put his magic to the test and fight.
"No," Evan said. "You will probably be given one sometime today. But there is no time to think about that, we must hurry. You've overslept."
"Miffy!" Harry called. The house elf appeared with a loud crack and Harry faced her. "Can you grab me a quick breakfast? I need to finish quickly."
"Miffy will do so, Master Harry," Miffy said with a low bow before disappearing. Harry walked into the large drawing room that led to the two bedrooms and sat down at the round dinner table. A large tray of breakfast items appeared in front of him, loaded with crispy bacon, toast, scrambled eggs, and a glass of what looked like fresh pumpkin juice.
"Eat quickly," Evan reprehended sharply. "And bring your wand with you today. You might need it."
Nodding, Harry shoveled food into his mouth faster, grinning behind a piece of toast at Evan's obvious disgust. Popping a grape into his mouth loudly on purpose, Harry tossed his grounder a cheeky grin before wordlessly summoning his damned wand into his hand.
Stuffing the piece of Hawthorn into his robe pocket, Harry stood up with his stomach suitably full and motioned for Evan to go first.
They exited the room and Harry gave a sigh of relief as he got to see a change in environment for the first time in a week, even if it was only cobbled walls and marble flooring.
"You said that all of the Death Eaters were summoned," Harry said conversely as they strode through the hallway.
"Yes," Evan nodded. "The Dark Lord wants to make an example and show you off. They will undoubtedly impressed. Your blond will be there as well."
Harry scowled. The man was calling Lucius "Harry's blond" out of humor and spite. Evan was always possessive over Harry and Lucius's fascination, while politically convenient, was looked upon as an intrusion. Nevertheless, Evan regarded it with dark humor.
"He's not my blond," Harry muttered for the umpteenth time.
Evan waved his hand nonchalantly. "We have not talked about Greyback's intentions. He and the Dark Lord will certainly be locking horns today, with you in between. I hope you have a strategy in mind."
Harry bit his lip in thought. "Greyback should be able to listen to me. He pledged his loyalty to me last week and I doubt he will go against his word. Whoever I serve, he will as well. Besides, Greyback and the Dark Lord are old allies. Werewolves are imperative to the war force—the Dark Lord would be foolish not to recognize that."
Evan nodded sagely. "Then you are ready," he said. Stopping before a turn in the hallway, Evan put his hands on Harry's shoulder in a rare display of affection. "I have trained you well," he whispered "You are ready to face whatever is in that room. Only remember that you are sworn to me and me alone."
Harry gave a sharp nod and the grounder released him. They turned the corner and entered through a small door.
The room was small, filled with small couches and a coffee table filled with different foods and delicacies. Harry could recognize all of the members of the inner circle mingling with each other and forced himself to stand tall as all eyes turned on them.
"Harry Potter!" Bellatrix cooed, sashaying forward in a black tattered dress. She pouted her lips at him and patted him on the head in a condescending fashion. "I haven't seen you all week. The Dark Lord forbid us, but I couldn't help but hope to find your pretty little self somewhere." Rodolphus strode by her side, a champagne glass in his hand as his cold eyes assessed Harry and Evan behind him.
"Rosier," Rodolphus said in a scathing tone. To Harry's surprise, the man's eyes lightened. "It has been a while."
Rosier returned the shark-like grin. "Indeed." He walked forward past the crafter. "Join me?" he asked. "We have much to catch up on."
Rodolphus turned and looked Harry up and down. "Indeed we do," he murmured. "Come, Bellatrix. The boy looks like he wants nothing of you. Stop abusing him—he's only sixteen."
Bellatrix grinned and tapped Harry on the shoulder with her crooked wand. "Call me Aunt Bella, little one," she cooed. "A crafter so precious; I wonder what my cousin would think?" She gave a tittering laugh before following her husband and Evan.
Harry scowled. Evan had ditched him and there was no way in hell that he was calling Bellatrix Lestrange Aunt Bella.
Glancing around the room nervously, he found his gaze drawn to Lucius, who stood with Narcissa and a blond boy. The boy looked about Harry's age and started intently back at Harry.
Before Harry could make a move, the boy had strode forward and held out a hand.
"Hello," the boy said in a slightly snide tone. "My name is Draco Malfoy. And you are Harry Potter, of course. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."
Harry took note of the boy's features. He was definitely the spawn of the Malfoys, with prestigiously white blond hair and a strikingly aristocratic figure. But Harry could see where Narcissa Black's genes came through. He had softer eyes and was more delicately built than his father. Nevertheless, the blond held himself with the utmost confidence and pride.
Taking the hand, Harry gave a firm shake. "Good to meet you, Malfoy," he murmured. Curiously, he extended his senses to Draco's magic. The boy was marginally above average in magical ability but was nothing special. For some unknown reason, he felt something akin to disappointment drop in his stomach.
"Call me Draco, please," Draco said with a smirk.
"Then call me Harry." Harry hated exchanging pleasantries. It was pointless and full of hidden jabs and manipulations. But it came with acting as a Pureblood and joining small get-togethers with witches and wizards like these.
"Well then, Harry," Draco said, stressing the word. "How do you like Malfoy Manor so far?"
"Considering that I've never seen more than my rooms, I really wouldn't know," Harry said dryly, relishing in the embarrassed flush he got in return. Feeling oddly merciful, Harry continued. "The grounds are beautiful though."
Draco straightened and hastily seized the save. "Yes, we take very good care of them," he boasted. "I will show you the gardens sometime. We have the rarest plants, flowers, and even potions ingredients. I am sure you will find it just as alluring as the grounds."
Nodding in agreement, Harry felt his eyes draw up to where Lucius was standing. The man was talking to Barty Crouch Jr. but his eyes too were drawn to the crafter's.
Shaking himself out of the stupor, Harry reached over to the table and grabbed a fruit tart. Biting into the delicious pastry, Harry waited for Draco to speak.
"Will you be attending Hogwarts for schooling?" the blond asked. "Where have you been learning magic anyways?"
"Evan tutors me," Harry replied. "Something like homeschooling, except with a couple of special subjects mixed in. And I doubt I will need schooling at Hogwarts. It is under Dumbledore's thumb, is it not?"
Draco scowled. "Yes, the old coot is still there. He believes the school to be a sanctuary of sorts, but we've had Death Eaters penetrate the wards. It's pathetic."
Harry couldn't help but think it a trick. Albus Dumbledore may be old, but never a fool. He was the defeater of Grindlewald and an alchemist—both could not be achieved without a genius mind. He forced a smile on his face nevertheless and gave a conceding nod. "Of course," he muttered. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mulciber and Rookwood glare at him and quickly turned back to Draco.
"So tell me about Hogwarts," Harry said, desperate to keep conversation. The last thing he wanted was to confront Death Eaters who hated his guts. He was in no mood to deal with shit like that.
As Draco rambled something about destitute red-heads and incompetent teachers, Harry took another bite of his tart nonchalantly, trying to calm his beating heart. He knew that it would be him in the spotlight during the meeting. He hadn't been in the public's eye before and he had enough trouble keeping his composure. Evan had done his share of reminding Harry of that fact.
When Draco abruptly stopped talking, Harry felt a dark presence at his back and turned around. He met the dark eyes of Snape and forced himself to avert his eyes. He was smart enough to recognize a Master Legilimens in front of him.
"Potter," the man said stiffly. His eyes were daggers of hatred and he looked down at Harry as if he was scum on the bottom of the man's shoe. "The Dark Lord has summoned you. He also asks that you have this."
A mask was presented to Harry. Taking it reverently, Harry caressed the golden edge with wondrous eyes.
The mask was nothing like the ominous, crude cut masks Death Eaters wore. It was colored a dark silver and edged in gold. The same markings that decorated face were inscribed on the cold metal in platinum, the intricate lines that twisted from his eyes and down his face almost identical as the real ones. While there were holes to breathe through the nose, there was no mouth, only a pale space.
Harry wondered if the Dark Lord was trying to make a statement.
"Of course," he said softly. He turned to the blond, who was not so subtly glaring at Snape, and said, "It was nice meeting you Draco. I'm sorry we have to cut this short."
"Not at all," Draco said smoothly. "I hope I will see you again soon?"
Not if I can help it, Harry thought. "Of course," he lied sweetly before turning away. He didn't bother telling Evan that he had been summoned; the bastard probably already knew.
Harry followed the sallow man to the adjoining room. He fingered the mask in nervousness, though he didn't let the emotions show on his face.
Ignoring Snape's disdainful sneer, Harry entered the door at the muted sound of the Dark Lord's "Enter."
The room was dark, lit only by few candles on the wall. It was spacious and shaped in a circle with a large, ornate throne in the middle. The Dark Lord was settled elegantly in the chair, one leg thrown arrogantly over the other. His lips turned upwards in a smirk as he watched Harry enter the room.
"Sit by me," he ordered quietly. Nagini, who must have escaped Harry's rooms, curled around his shoulders with a leisurely hiss.
Harry glanced at the space around Voldemort. It was obvious that there was nowhere to sit except the space around the chair. Swallowing his pride, Harry sat delicately by the Dark Lord's feet, his face burning at the subordinate position.
Voldemort's slitted eyes burned brightly. "You have been awfully quiet so far. From what Evan tells me, you are a cheeky bastard."
Harry could hear Evan's voice in the two words and pressed down the urge to roll his eyes. "I have no wish to offend you, my Lord."
The Dark Lord let out a sibilant laugh before sobering. "Evan has told me everything I need to know, from the Dursleys to Greyback."
Shoulders stiffening, Harry held himself in check and waited for Voldemort to continue.
"You're status as a crafter has more sway than I anticipated. I hope you will be putting that to good use?"
Harry could hear the dangerous undertone. "Of course, my Lord," he assured. "Greyback's loyalty will always be with you. As will mine."
"You are a flatterer," Voldemort observed with a curved smile.
Harry could only think of responses that would only make the conversation—Merlin help him—flirtatious. He kept quiet instead, his head bowed in respect.
"You will receive your first mission tonight," Voldemort said softly. "Evan has given your services to me. Prove your worth and you will be rewarded. Fail and you will be punished accordingly."
Anticipation and exhilaration sparked through his body and Harry found his hands clenching in excitement. Magic flowed through his body and he flushed with excitement. "I will not fail you, my Lord," he vowed vehemently. His magic longed to be used in something other than training. He was made to use his powers.
"I don't doubt it," Voldemort said simpy. "Put on your mask and your hood. The others will be arriving shortly."
Harry did as ordered.
Just as he did, Death Eaters began to file in. First it was the inner circle that surrounded Voldemort's throne in two tight circles on their knees, heads bent in prostration. The remainder of the Death Eaters did the same, creating circles after circles until the entire room was filled.
Harry found his mouth drying at the sight of so many people prostrating to one man. Voldemort's power was heavy in the room, his magic weighing heavily on the shoulders of his servants.
"My friends," the Dark Lord said in a soft voice. "Be welcome."
The Death Eaters sat up on their knees and watched the Dark Lord with reverent eyes.
"Today is the day we have been waiting for. For six years, we have hidden ourselves from the public, gaining strength and followers so that one day, we will strike the Light and take back what was rightfully ours. No more oppression, no more discrimination, no more dirtying of blood. Today is the day we reveal ourselves to the Wizarding World. Reveal ourselves to the Mudbloods and the blood traitors."
Murmurs of excitement and agreement filled the room. When Voldemort spoke again, the room fell dead silent.
"But today is also the day we are joined by someone important. With him by our stand, there will be no failure for the Dark." Voldemort gestured to Harry at his side, who raised his head so that all the Death Eaters could see his mask.
The room exploded. The markings on the mask were obvious enough even to the few halfbloods that were inducted into the ranks.
"A crafter," Voldemort shouted over the buzz with a loud laugh. "It cannot be more obvious that magic, the Mother, is by our side. With him, we will be unstoppable." He turned to Harry with smoldering eyes. "Present your arm."
Harry pulled back the sleeve of his left arm and held it up to the Dark Lord. He was not surprised that he would be initiated so publically, but he didn't think it would be so soon. He hated the idea of being marked by another man. The Mother had hers and Evan his. Being branded like cattle was nothing to be desired, but he was tied to this man.
As the markings on his arms were exposed, whispers filled the room again. Harry kneeled to the Dark Lord and met the man's poppy red eyes.
"I pledge to you my loyalty and my magic," Harry murmured, his soft voice filling the room. Voldemort undoubtedly wanted to keep his identity secret but he wasn't worried that any Death Eater would recognize his voice. "My loyalty and my life are yours, and those allied with me are yours."
Voldemort's eyes narrowed with pleasure. He raised his bone white wand and pressed the cold tip to Harry's forearm. "Morsmorde."
Black magic bled into Harry's arm. Pain shot through his nerves and Harry tilted his head back and gave a high, primeval shriek. He crumpled to the ground, distantly aware of a familiar hand reaching out to his shoulder. His magic buckled and screamed in protest as it fought the foreign magic that attempted to mark him on his arm. Magic pulsed and shook in waves and Harry watched with blurred eyes as the webs closed down on him.
The hazy outline of an Angel appeared. Unlike the past few times when beautiful seductresses were sent, the Angel was an old crone. Her back was bent with age and her face wrinkled with lines of age. She had hair as white as snow, greyed skin that fell limply down her back, and a cruel, soulless stare.
You are a fool, Harry James Potter. You take no mark. You are owned by no one but the Mother. She made you and you are hers. We have allowed your attachment to the Rosier boy but you cannot be bound to the Riddle that corrupts balance so. Find your way before it is too late.
The old crone swept one hand over Harry's cheek and leaned down so that her thin, wrinkled lips touched where the Death Eater mark was attempting to take shape. She inhaled and the black magic flowed into her like smoke. Leaning back up, the old crone stared coldly at Voldemort, who was watching her with narrowed eyes, and disappeared in a flash of magic.
Harry felt the pain release him and he collapsed in a boneless heap onto the ground. He attempted to sit up, to explain or just do something but he found his limbs leaden and his nerves afire. Distantly, he heard Voldemort order Evan to take Harry elsewhere and groaned as arms lifted him off of the ground.
It felt like hours until Harry was placed onto a soft couch. He felt the mask on his face be removed the cool press of a vial to his lips and swallowed. The pain alleviated and he groaned as his vision cleared.
"Don't sit up too quickly," Evan said darkly.
Nevertheless, Harry forced himself in a sitting position and looked down at his exposed left arm. It was bare, as if the Dark Lord's mark had never even touched his skin.
"What happened?" he asked hoarsely, his throat protesting the strain.
Evan didn't answer. Harry took the silence as an irritated I don't know.
"The Angel was different," Harry said softly. "I know that you couldn't hear her because she was concentrating on me, but she was old, not like the young ones. And she told me to… find my way before it was too late. What does she mean by that?"
Evan's lips pressed in a thin, disapproving line. "I do not think that the Mother will allow another man place a brand on you. You are her scion to the world. She has the right to be possessive."
Harry was tempted to add, so are you, apparently, but held back. "So I can't be marked?"
"It would appear to be so," a dark voice muttered.
Evan dropped into a low bow as Voldemort swept in the room. He had obviously finished the rest of the gathering quickly and dismissed the Death Eaters before seeking out the injured crafter.
"M-my lord," Harry stammered nervously.
Voldemort's aura pulsed in fury. "You are owned," he hissed softly, "by Rosier and magic. But I am the one that controls you. I am your lord and yet I find myself unable to even place my mark on you."
"Forgive me," Harry said with a low bow. His hands trembled. "I didn't know that would happen. I've been having a… difficult relationship with magic."
"I saw the crone," Voldemort said with a tilt of his head. "She was indistinct but I could see just the faint outline of her figure. Who was she?"
"You could see her?" Harry asked incredulously. He had thought that only he and his grounder could see the Angels.
"Yes," Voldemort snapped impatiently. "It does not do to have me waiting, crafter."
"She is an Angel, a… well, a member of the Mother's court. They've been visiting me for years trying to take my abilities because they believe that I am corrupt."
The Dark Lord's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Is that so?" he asked dryly. "If I cannot mark you by skin, then I will have to find some other way to brand you mine."
Harry didn't dare ask how. He felt sick just from hearing Voldemort's words.
The door that Voldemort had entered through suddenly was flung open and Greyback stormed in. Behind him followed Blackclaw and three other male werewolves: Bloodfang, Swiftfoot, and Beartooth.
"Yer minions are a bunch of annoying little cowards," Greyback growled. His hand was already stained in blood. "Keep a tighter leash on them, Voldemort."
The Dark Lord straightened and brought his magic around him like a protective shield. "Greyback," he said stiffly. "We were expecting you much later."
The werewolf waved is large hand in the air. "Well we're here now." His eyes found Harry's limp figure on the couch and he swore. "What happened to him?"
Voldemort did not look away from Greyback. "He did not take the mark well."
"Of course he didn't, you thoughtless bastard," Greyback snarled, moving forward in three quick steps. The werewolves at his back gave warning growls to Evan's wand, which had appeared in his hand and was pointed at Greyback.
"Hello, little crafter," Greyback said. He leered at the boy. "You've had better days."
"Go to hell," Harry coughed. Eyes glaring, Harry swung his legs over the couch and forced himself to sit straight. "What are you doing here?"
"The Dark Lord invited me here to discuss terms of alliance," Greyback said gruffly. He turned to look at Voldemort. "You should know that a werewolf's true alliance is only with the Moon. And knowing that there is a crafter in the room, it should be obvious where it lies now."
"Yes, and his alliance lies with me," Voldemort said coldly. His red eyes assessed the werewolf in front of him coolly. "You control a great sway over werewolves in Great Britain."
"Yes."
"I have told my Death Eaters that we plan to reveal ourselves tonight. It will be at Hogsmeade at night, when the streets will be most full. We are planning a full on raid and I'm certain your… beasts will welcome bloodshed."
Greyback gave a smile and flash of fangs. "I do not doubt it. And the crafter. He is condoning this?"
The air grew chilly. "I do not need my actions to be approved by a sixteen year old boy," Voldemort sneered. "He is my servant, not the other way around. I will make it clear to you, Greyback. As long as you are an ally of the Dark, you will answer to me and to me alone."
The two locked eyes, their lips pulled back in wordless snarls.
"Fine," Greyback said stiffly. "Then we will wait for tonight in this posh manor. I hope that blond of yours is not overly attached to those poncy birds of his."
The werewolves left. Blackclaw shot a concerned look at Harry before they turned the corner and disappeared from view.
"How precious," Voldemort said with a curl of his lip. "I expect you to keep the mutts in line. Your status may put you above regular Death Eaters but remember that you still and will always obey my word. Is that understood?"
"Yes, my Lord," Harry said, gritting his teeth.
"Good boy," Voldemort said with a mocking pat to his head. "I will need to speak to Evan privately. Return to your rooms."
Harry struggled to stand and gave half a bow. "Will I be joining the raid tonight?" He hadn't forgotten about the Dark Lord's promise to give him his first mission.
"No," Voldemort said flatly. "I have a different job for you. Rest. I will inform you at a later time."
Irritated at being treated like a child, Harry left the room without another room, making sure to shut the door with more force than usual. He fitted his mask on his face and stormed through the hallways, clearly aware of the lingering looks he garnered from meandering Death Eaters.
Sending a poisonous look to any person who looked as if he/she wanted to approach him, Harry reached the doors to his private rooms and entered with a huff.
The night better be worth it.
Harry's life is just about to get very difficult. Hope you all enjoyed the character interactions! Next chapter is very important and full of action, something you all are craving after a bunch of dialogue.
Achelois Rising: Thank you so much! I've managed to stumble over the writers block and things are picking up. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Loveandpower: Well the hallucination more or less appears through Harry's magic. When he's under crucio, you'd imagine the pain to cripple the magic to a certain level. And it's not like an Angel is going to appear every time Harry get's near something powerful. They're sent by the Mother. Thanks again, especially for your questions. They're actually provoking me to take a deeper look at what I wrote.
autumngold: We all feel that sympathy for Harry. I don't think there's ever a story where he gets a good time for once. Draco's part will rise of course and he's just been introduced this chapter. He'll still be a little snot, of course. Thanks for your review!
Thank you all so much! I've taken a new path in writing this story and now I'm even more excited to get to the ending.
Leave me a review and tell me wat you think!