This was the most difficult chapter I've ever written. I started TUESDAY, but fell ill and I only finished it today. Please forgive me if it's not the usual quality. I really wanted to finish it, but had to do so with less concentration than usual. probably no more chapters this weekend. I don't feel up to it. And the illness will likely become frequent. I suffer from astma and fall ill at least four times a year. Really I'm surprised it took this long.
Please enjoy!
Chapter 7: Unpleasant conversations
The Dark Lord had been meditating ever since the debacle the night before. Peter wasn't sure what exactly had happened, but his Lord been far more pleasant and forgiving of Peter's frequent mistakes than usual. Treacherous as his thoughts were, he couldn't help but be grateful for the radical change. He was a coward at heart and had chosen his side accordingly. Peter had a mostly grey core, his magic stemming from fear oftentimes, with a slight dark tinge. He had despised Sirius and James for lording their superiority over him and even Remus for a small part. The marauders had only tolerated him in their group, never really accepting him as a worthy member. The satisfaction he had felt when he managed to blame Sirius for October 31st, 1981 had been exhilarating. Finally he had had his revenge on the people who should have been friends, but had been more like bullies sometimes.
In the past he had often dwelled on why the Sorting Hat had put him in Gryffindor. He wasn't brave, outgoing or even charming. In the end he had concluded that it had simply been a last resort, knowing he didn't quite posses the hard working mind-set for Hufflepuff. (Neville sneezed miles away.)
His master's voice pulled him out of his reverie. "Wormtail, I have decided that this house suits our needs no longer. We will be making a visit to Lucius, so see that everything is packed." Having received such vague instructions before Peter got the special bottomless, featherweight bag and started to collect the books, cauldrons and other things lying through the house. He did his very best to ignore the eerie hissing as his master called for the scary snake, having had a lot of practice for these past four months.
Lucius and Narcissa were having lunch in silence, sat on opposite sides of the 30 feet long table. Another row had sparked this morning over the darkening of Lucius' mark. Lucius wanted to start searching for his master so he could appease him and prevent any anger directed at his family. Narcissa on the other hand had never liked the idea of serving anyone. The Blacks were the proudest purebloods in Europe and they bowed to no one. Granted aunt Walburga had been quite fanatical in her worship of the Dark Lord, pressuring Regulus in joining and infecting Bellatrix with the same. Narcissa had seen the deterioration of Lord Voldemort's mind up close, as wife of his right-hand man, and feared for her family's future should he be in the same or a worse condition.
The tense silence was disturbed by their head house elf, who was wringing her hands together in distress. Throwing a warning glance at her husband Narcissa motioned for her to speak. "A little man is at the door and Libby says he is not invited, but Libby not strong enough to stop the little man and he pushes past Libby so Libby directs him to waiting room to inform Master and Mistress."
"You did well, Libby. Inform the man we will be with him after lunch."
The Malfoys recognized the man in their sitting room immediately as Peter Pettigrew. Lucius raised an eyebrow; Pettigrew looked even more jumpy than usual and he held a swaddle of blankets in his arms, like a child. Narcissa, being far more slytherin than her husband, knew they had the dubious honour of hosting the temporary body of their Lord.
"Pettigrew. I hope you found your accommodations tolerable. You caught us in the middle of lunch and didn't give our house-elf a name, so we didn't think it was urgent. Would you care for tea?" Falling into her role as hostess, Narcissa hoped her Lord was saner than before his fall. If he had full control of his magic and none over his reasonableness, they would be cursed swiftly for making him wait.
Pettigrew moved his precious bundle so the Malfoys were face to face with Lord Voldemort. Both were startled at the form their Lord had taken, but carefully blanked out their expressions. The once magnificent wizard looked like a cross between an old men and a small child. It was so thin the ribs and the phalanxes of the fingers and toes could be counted. Hair had been replaced with scales and red eyes, enormously big in the emaciated face, stared at them. When he spoke, it sounded more like hissing than normal human tongue.
"Dear Lucius and Narcissa. You have done well for yourselves it seems. How is it that only my most useless follower came to search for me? I heard how you escaped Azkaban and I would be prouder of you, had you spend at least some time searching for my bodiless spirit, Lucius." They cowered under the anger of their master, but Narcissa was secretly relieved. The homunculus carried a wand and yet no curses had been uttered so far. It was clear that Lord Voldemort had regained at least some of his sanity.
Any protests for Lucius were cut off with a dismissing hand. "Spare me your excuses. I'm well aware that you have a son and, rightfully, put him first. Though I'm not sure whether to thank or punish you for destroying the diary I had entrusted to you. You knew how precious it was and still handed it to the Weasley chit! Yes Lucius I know everything about that affair, because the it contained my first Horcrux!"
Narcissa gasped; such magic was banned even by the Darkest of families and with reason! Splitting your soul resulted always in insanity and volatility. And first! That meant her Lord had made more than one! The steady decline of her Lord's abilities and intelligence suddenly made sense. Her mind flitted to Regulus' unexplained disappearance; might he have known? He would have undertaken action, and if he had been found out… No her Lord would have made an example of him. He must have fallen to the traps her master would have surrounded his Horcruxes with.
"I see you understand the implications Narcissa. You always were much smarter than your husband. You would have made a fine strategist had you not been pregnant. Yes I knowingly made five of them and hid them all over England. The diary was the first and contained the largest piece. It did not disappear when Harry Potter destroyed its container, although it should have. I have my suspicions as to why. Last night I found out that I had created a sixth Horcrux inadvertently when I went to kill Harry Potter thirteen years ago. When I realised this, although not with the same clarity as I do now, I pulled it back. The link between my soul and the piece attached to Mr Potter had not severed. My other Horcruxes reacted to my call as well and suddenly I found myself with a complete soul once again."
A long talk followed this revelation. It seemed that Voldemort's goals had been utterly distorted from the moment he first made a Horcrux. He had wanted to change the wizarding world, for it could not continue as it was, but war had nearly destroyed it. Pettigrew was delegated to the background, which pleased his cowardly heart. He had already ruined the homunculus potion and frankly none could stand him. They discussed who to contact and how to proceed. Barty would have to be called back. There was no need for Harry Potter's blood, Voldemort realized that now and he had already discarded the prophecy as nonsense. It was the self-fulfilling kind, so if both parties ignored it, it would be void.
Deep in the bowls of the ministry a secret department existed. Here the mysteries of the world were studied. Time was one of them, death another. In the far back a sort of library was filled with luminous orbs. It was rare for people to enter this room for the orbs and labels were created by an old spell that lay over the room. Only if one wanted the listen to the orb pertaining to them, they would enter. But most people weren't even aware that they had such an orb waiting for them. Years could pass before someone entered the room and even longer before they entered the row of 1980. On the night of Halloween one of the orbs had broken, its last snippets had gone unheard. About two weeks later, it disappeared all together.
Harry had woken late Sunday morning. So late in fact that Remus had already left for Prince Manor and he only had time for a quick shower before Rita Skeeter and her photographer were expected. He worried a bit for Severus; Voldemort would surely call for him and then what? But he also felt that Voldemort's soul had felt… better? It wasn't really the word he was looking for. In his past skirmishes Voldemort had always felt insane and slimy somehow. After the pulling, he had seemed cleaner, for lack of a better word. He really hoped that everything would go right for once.
Rita certainly was impressed by the neutral, comfy atmosphere of Severus' quarters. It was rather obvious she had expected more house pride. During lunch she made a remarkable effort to keep to small talk, instead of going straight to the uncomfortable questions. It was somewhat unfortunate that Severus' new status was exposed almost immediately by Mimsy, who addressed her master as Lord Prince, when he asked her to bring the first course. Rita's excitement at the scoop was unmistakable, though her deference prevented her from pouncing.
After an excellent meal they settled in the sitting room for the interview. Questions about Severus' acceptance of his Lordship led to his adoption of Harry and its circumstances. Still uncomfortable with talking about the Dursleys and their treatment Harry left most of the talking to Severus. This behaviour established him even further as a lost and lonely child in need of care in Rita's eyes. Yesterday it had been his fragile looks that had awoken sympathy and compassion in her. In another universe she might have made him the object of her poison pen; in this one she turned to the adults in charge, who should have protected this innocent child.
Finding a new angle she asked about his life since the adoption; a good move for Harry's eyes lit up and he began to regale her with stories about Severus' kindness. He had been taken to a tailor one weekend. Not Madam Malkins in Diagon Alley; no to Twilfitt and Tattings, a shop favoured by rich purebloods. They also had paid a visit to Harrods, a muggle luxury store where he had gotten a muggle wardrobe. He had been given books on school subjects he liked and on the magical version of fairy tales. The same weekend he had visited the places where his parents had grown up and lived. He had seen Potter Manor, Lion's Keep, the little house in Cokeworth and his parents' grave in Godric's Hollow. No one had ever bothered to tell him anything meaningful about his parents.
Finally she pronounced herself satisfied and a few more photos were taken. They focused on Severus behind Harry, casting a protective shadow over his ward. The fondness between couldn't be faked; it was always there, even when they were distracted. When Severus looked at Harry his stern features softened and he often smiled!
"Harry! How did the meeting go? I hope Rita behaved herself. Oh and we heard you met Remus! How was he?" Smiles welcomed him as he entered their secret room. He had told Fleur, Cedric and Viktor about the interview they had planned with Rita and they in turn had informed the others. They had agreed to wait for him in the afternoon, so they could go over it and do some spell work. Harry had found an interesting shield made from runes that he wanted to try out and Viktor especially had been really interested.
"You have lost the last of your wrackspurts. Gold suits you well, though silver will make you whole." Luna looked at Harry with that strange, knowing smile as he fought to keep down his blush. No way that Luna meant Draco with that last statement. She couldn't know! In a flash he remembered what Luna reminded him of and made a mental note to ask her about it in private. It would make a lot of sense, though.
"Well yes, about that. Perhaps you like to sit down so I can explain about what happened since I left the ceremony yesterday afternoon." His friends looked at him curiously, except Luna, and sat down on the comfy sofa's they had installed early on.
"I did see Remus last night and had dinner with him. That's why I didn't come to the Great Hall." He turned to the older students and Luna. "Remus Lupin is my honorary godfather. He was a good friend of my parents, but is shunned from society, because he suffers from lycanthropy."
"Ze British miniztry iz truly ridiculouz when it comez to Werewolf lawz. Thingz could be better in France, but at least there zey have some rights." Viktor nodded, Bulgaria was one of the few countries in Europe that accepted werewolves into society. In contrast Britain was very backwards in their dealings. Werewolves needed to register themselves, where forbidden for having a job and got heavy punishments when they were suspected of biting people.
"I know. That's why Severus offered him the job of steward of the Houses Prince and Potter. Although Potter falls technically under the House of Prince for the moment, I plan to keep Remus on, if possible. As Lord of an Ancient and most Noble House, Severus can hire Remus without any legal consequences. Though he will probably push for the revoking of those laws in the Wizengamot. But that's not the biggest news I have to tell you." Here Harry shifted, nervous about his friends' reactions and uncertain about how to explain.
It was Ron who soothed his nerves. He drew Harry into a reassuring hug, knowing what his brother in all but blood needed without speaking. "Come on mate. It can't possibly be that bad. Just throw it out and get it of your chest. None of us will judge you for it."
"Thanks Ron. Last night I fell Voldemort's anger in my sleep." He ignored the gasps and struggled on. "We've always had some sort of strange connection, but I really wanted to sleep and so I tried to push some calmness towards him. It worked, but also got his attention and he tried to seek me out. When he did we both noticed some strange parasite on my… my soul. He pulled at his side of the link, while I pushed it of me and when it finally let go, he felt cleaner, somehow…"
He trailed of, looking up through his lashes (and frankly making a splendid picture of purity and adorableness). Once the worst of the shock was over (the older students had quickly learned to expect anything and everything when it came to Harry Potter) they engulfed him into a group hug. Harry cried, feeling accepted for the first time ever. Sure Severus and Remus had taken it well, but they were adults and used to strange happenings harry could make neither head nor tails from. These were his friends and while Ron and Hermione had gone through many dangerous situations with him, the others barely knew him. For Harry this acceptance meant that they saw him: just Harry. No titles or absurd hyphenated names, no boy-who-lived or child of Lily and James Potter. Just the little boy who was stilled awed over all the wonders magic had to offer.
In London a once beautiful town house lay in near ruins. It was only managed by an old house-elf, who for all intents and purpose should have died with his mistress. Merely the last order of his favourite young master kept him going. His wonderful, kind master who had died to save Kreacher and Kreacher couldn't even fulfil that final, vital order. He had tried and tried, had used long forgotten house-elf magic and even some human magic, but despite all, the locket remained intact. Everyday he took it in hand, resisting its foul magic and everyday he failed to destroy it.
When he sought it out that morning, feeling old and weary, he nearly jumped in joy. There kept save, from thieves that is, in the enchanted cupboard lay the charred and twisted remains of the golden treasure. "It is done, master Regulus, your last demand is fulfilled and your death was not in vain. Kreacher has not failed you any longer!" It was with a smile on his face that the old house-elf took his last breath as the magic that had sustained him left and fell to the ground, stone dead.
I've always preferred Narcissa and thought that J.K. Rowling never gave her the credit she deserved. As for Peter Pettigrew, in my opinion the Sorting Hat also looks for potential, so he might have been a brave wizard if only he hadn't fallen in league with Sirius and James, whose oppressive personalities crushed his. That doesn't mean I like Pettigrew.
When Severus adopted Harry, he was no longer the son of those who trice defied him. Hence the prophecy broke on one side. When Voldemort ignored it as well, it disappeared all together.
Kudos if you can guess what curse lies upon the Lovegoods. There are plenty of hints in the story, but here is another one: know your mythology.
Let me know what you think!