Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Hi everyone! I have noticed a certain drop in the reviews I have received for the last chapter and just want to say this: the total amount of reviews I get isn't that important to me. What I want, and need, is feedback on the chapters I post. I will easily admit to being self-conscious and a bit uncertain concerning my writing and each comment I receive goes to reassure me that people are still interested in my story and that I have to continue writing it. There is a direct correlation between your enthusiasm for this story and my enthusiasm for it. So, please, let me know what you think of it. Your comments help me a lot.
I still reply to each review I get in PMs, but I want to also take this space to thank those who favourited and followed this story and my guest reviewers.
FanFiction Lover: I'm glad I made you see new horizons. I had the feeling you'd react strongly to that slash, hehehe. ;)
Summary of the previous chapter: Harry goes back to the Dark Lord on the night of his birthday and brings him the Locket, only to be entrusted with its protection by the Dark Lord. Harry has a new resolution not to hide his skills from Marvolo and to invest more of himself in their relationship to make it work better.
Warning: mature themes in the second section of the chapter. (or 'how to tell you it might be upsetting without giving what will happen away')
Chapter 43: 31st of December 1997, Part one: Happy Birthday, Dark Lord
The next morning, I was sitting in a chair that the Dark Lord had conjured to the left of his throne. Well, he had conjured a straight-backed, not very comfortable one, and I had taken on myself to make it a bit more...cushiony, at the very least, to accommodate my slightly painful ass. The Dark Lord hadn't been so gentle the night before. Or this morning. Not that I had anything to complain about. It had been simply brilliant, especially after so long.
Said Dark Lord, by the way, had sent me the most perverted and smuggest grin I had ever seen on his face when he saw me modify the chair. As if he hadn't conjured it as uncomfortable as he could for that exact reason. Damn infuriating man.
But, well, it was his birthday, so I let him have his fun. From what he told me, it would be a long a boring day, but I was looking forward to see what his Death Eaters would give him.
There was a strategy behind the procedure, or so had the Dark Lord told me. He had challenged me to find it by the end of the day, and I was intent on proving that I wasn't too shabby a strategist, even if it had never been my forte. The gift I would get if I had the correct answer was just a secondary reason for my interest, of course.
In any case, it was with great attention that I looked at the setting and the gathered crowd.
We were in Malfoy Manor, probably because he didn't want all those potential traitors behind the wards of his Fortress; or, maybe, to honour the Malfoys for their good service. But why honour Lucius in particular? He was the Dark Lord's Minister already, and that was quite the reward. What had he done for the Dark Lord that was important to be worth both the Minister position and this? It wasn't anything to do with his duelling skills, according the others Death Eaters I had met. Others like Crouch wanted the title of Minister, so why not rotate them after a while?
I shook my head to get focused on the present. The answers wouldn't come to me automatically. I just needed to observe at this point.
All his marked Death Eaters had gathered before us before splitting in half: those that weren't there had to have their Master's permission for missing this 'important ceremony'. It was a bit strange that the Dark Lord wanted them to perceive the time spent with him on his birthday as a privilege, and at the same time forced them to attend...
There were about fifty of them in front of us, at the moment. Another fifty or so waited outside for this group to be done. At 9am exactly, Severus stepped forward. I wondered if the order was predetermined or meant something. Nobody else had tried to contest Severus's first place. Perhaps there was a routine established throughout the years.
"In honour of my esteemed Master's birthday, I present thee my latest Potion. It is an advanced Truth Potion which allows the interrogator to use Legilimency at the same time without risking to lose any information when tearing the fabric of the mind," explained Severus as he 'humbly' presented the vial to the Dark Lord. The latter shifted forward in interest and took it from the Potions Master's hands. He checked the colour and consistence for a while before he returned his attention to Severus.
"Does it have a name?" he asked.
"My Lord, with your permission, I would name it 'the Plain Truth'.
-Well done, Severus" praised the Dark Lord. "We will meet soon and you will explain to me its composition and brewing process," he ordered.
Severus only bowed shallowly in answer and left the room.
I frowned at his back. I would have thought that the Death Eaters would need to stay after presenting their presents. Perhaps it was a status thing and Severus had permission to leave because he had to head back to Hogwarts. I turned to Marvolo who was watching me from the corner of his eye, probably trying to see if I had the answer to his riddle already. I shook my head negatively. He sent me a small smirk. The next Death Eater stepped forward confidently.
I didn't know who he was.
"My Lord, I bring you a family heirloom from the Nott family. It is a bracelet that is said to have belonged to Merlin himself..."explained what was probably Lord Nott.
I winced interiorly. Didn't the man know that the Dark Lord didn't care for Merlin at all?
"Does this...adornment...has any special ability, Nott?" asked the Dark Lord in a chilling voice.
The poor man who had been so confident before now faltered at his Master's tone.
"Well, that is, my Lord, well, it has the standard protection spells on it, not that you need them, of course, and well, it is made of pure mythril, so it is quite valuable..." he stammered.
The Dark Lord lifted an unimpressed eyebrow.
"So, according to you, I 'need' this because I am dearly lacking the monetary funds to buy myself such baubles? Is that what you intend to say, Nott?" asked the Dark Lord in a dangerous voice.
The poor Death Eater reddened in embarrassment and shook his head rapidly in denial. I thought it was a bit harsh a reaction from the Dark Lord. The bracelet looked nice enough, after all, even it was relatively useless for someone like him.
"Of course not, my Lord, I merely thought that, with your interest for the ancient times and the origins of magic, you might appreciate this relic..." he stopped explaining when he saw the Dark Lord's still unimpressed facial expression. "I apologise for my thoughtlessness, my Lord. It won't happen again," he said contrite.
"Considering your pitiful performance at the Muggle Surveillance and Containment Department this year, Nott, I had hoped to see more effort on your part to compensate, but clearly, you are as clueless in this as you are at your appointed job. Expect a demotion in the near future, unless you improve considerably this year, that is. You may go now and inspect the depth of your imagination for any bright ideas with the potential to make me change my mind about you," dismissed the Dark Lord. Nott left the room with his head bowed down, ashamed to have been treated so in front of his peers.
Perhaps this setting was to humiliate those who didn't bring gifts extravagant enough? I wasn't very impressed if that was the case, especially if high Ministry appointments relied on this.
The rest of the Death Eaters hesitated for a moment, as if they didn't want to risk presenting their gifts when the Dark Lord was still pissed off.
Suddenly, a young man of about my age stepped forward. He was tall, with dark skin and slanting eyes. He bowed elegantly to the Dark Lord and, surprisingly, saluted me with a respectful nod.
I shot a glance at Marvolo to see his reaction to this. The man looked strangely satisfied and in a better mood than he had seemed before.
"My Lord, I have found this rare treatise in my family library and thought it might interest you," said the young man with admirable composure.
I saw the Dark Lord lift an eyebrow in interest as he looked at the ancient-looking book he had just received. I saw the thirst for knowledge lit up in his eye and knew that the young man had made a good choice of gifts.
"A most admirable gift for your first presence at this ceremony. I must commend you, young Zabini. Will your mother be joining us at the ball tonight?" asked the Dark Lord in a pleased voice.
Zabini, or Blaise, as Draco had told me about his school peer, responded in the affirmative and, after a few pleasantries, left the room with a strong gait full of dignity.
He had probably just gained some of his Master's favour thanks to that book, and a grudging respect from the rest of the Death Eaters as well. Was this event an opportunity for social advancement among the Dark Lord's minions? Was this how new ministers and officials were determined? Depending on the worth of their gifts? That would not be...a very competence-oriented approach. As far as I knew, the Dark Lord liked competent people to occupy strategic positions in his government. I could be wrong, however.
.
The day continued like that. At first, it was fascinating to see the Death Eaters vie for the Dark Lord's approval and try to choose carefully their place in the order of presentation. I had determined at some point that those who were more confident tended to go first because they wanted to impress their peers with their gifts as well. The quality of the gift went quickly down as the Dark Lord's servants passed through and my interest waned, only to pick up at the end when a few of them glared at each other to make the others go before them. They obviously wanted the last spot in this morning's group. As it turned out, they all had taken risks for their gifts and wanted to be sure that their potential humiliation would be known by the less people possible. The last one offered Muggle heads. I was not amused. I barely kept myself from vomiting on the spot. The Dark Lord wasn't either, but for a different reason, of course.
"I assume you took all the precautions necessary to not be spotted and to not leave any trace that could be interpreted as unnatural for them?" he asked in a detached voice. I shot him an incredulous look. That was all he cared about?
The Death Eater assured him that he had been careful.
"Why do you think that such a present would interest me? I dare say that if I wanted Muggle heads as a decoration for my Fortress, the walls would already be plastered with them. Or do you think me too incompetent to fetch some myself?" asked the Dark Lord in a stinging tone before ordering the idiot to leave his sight and take his 'gift' with him.
I could go back to breathing normally as the man exited the room with the rejected gift. I shuddered slightly at the glassy look that the late Muggles had in their eyes.
I fell back on my chair with a relieved sight. The Dark Lord turned to me sharply, smirking slightly and effectually distracting me from my gloomy thoughts.
"Have you discovered the purpose, then?" he asked.
I hesitated, ordering my thoughts on the procedure I had witnessed so far.
"Social advancement through group shaming? Getting better gifts because they want to make sure you won't humiliate them before their peers?" I suggested.
He shook his head.
"Not exactly. You have the other group to observe until you need to give me your final answer," he said, extending a hand over to me and passing it through my hair with a mischievous smile, messing it up even more than it was before. I huffed in annoyance and tried to put it back in a semblance of order.
"I must say, the whole process is more entertaining than usual with you trying to make your guess and studying all of them attentively. You are making some of them nervous with your close scrutiny, did you know?" he asked me, amused.
I lifted an eyebrow at him.
"I am making them nervous? YOU are making them nervous. Why do you react so strongly to bad gifts? It's not as if you really care about what they give you...
-That's part of the purpose you are trying to determine, brat," he interrupted me, smirking.
I rolled my eyes at him, but didn't say anything.
He waved his hand and the doors opened to let the second group filter in. Lucius was in that group, but not Draco. In fact, apart from Zabini, I hadn't seen anybody around my age in his rank. I briefly wondered what Blaise had done to distinguish himself from the rest of his peers. I had never heard Marvolo mention him before.
Lucius started the procedure by offering some priceless old book to the Dark Lord. It seemed like it was the safer avenue to give him books, or magical knowledge of some kind. I wondered why most hadn't found that out from the previous years and given him books this time. I wouldn't be surprised if the Dark Lord had lashed out at those who gave him books last year, just to confound them. As far as I knew, maybe Muggle heads used to be his favourite gift a few years back.
Crouch followed, keeping his eyes scrupulously to the Dark Lord. He hadn't dared to as much as glance at me since my 'status' had been revealed to the rest of the Wizarding World. It suited me just fine, really, but I thought his behaviour was a bit exaggerated. Or maybe not, I rectified as I saw the Dark Lord's jaw tighten in annoyance when Crouch's turn arrived.
"My Lord, I have created a new spell that might interest you and offer it you in celebration of your birthday, hoping that it will please you."
The Dark Lord straightened up in his seat in interest. Crouch was the first one to offer a spell of his creation today.
"A demonstration, then, is needed," he declared imperiously.
Crouch shifted slightly, hesitating. I frowned at him. Why was he hesitating to obey the Dark Lord? It never boded well when any oh his minions did so.
"My Lord, it is a very...strong offensive spell, and I don't think that anybody's shields here, except yours and perhaps..." he hesitated again, his eyes sliding to me briefly. "would resist its onslaught," he finished, looking at the Dark Lord again.
I glanced at Marvolo to see what he made of that. He lifted an eyebrow back at me in question. I shrugged at him; curious to see what Crouch's fuss was all about. He nodded in answer.
I lifted myself off my chair and went to stand in front of the rest of the Death Eaters, facing Crouch who took a duelling position.
"Is the purpose of this that I try to dodge it, or that I let it impact on my shield?" I asked Crouch.
"On the shield. You won't be able to dodge it," he said curtly, confidently.
I nodded. I would have to see what his new spell was before I tried to challenged his instructions.
"Do the strongest shield you know, if you can," he recommended me.
I lifted an eyebrow at that. I knew quite a few shields, after all.
I shot a look at the Dark Lord again, remembering my new resolution not to hide my capacities in front of him anymore.
He narrowed his eyes at me, somehow knowing that I'd reveal something important to him.
I didn't mirrored Crouch's duelling position, instead opting to turn sideways, presenting him my left shoulder as if I was expecting something to physically collide with me. I closed my eyes and centered myself, taking a deep breath. When I opened them again, I let my arm trace a circle above the ground around my feet with my wand and then did the same in the air above my head, chanting a long and complicated protection spell below my breath. From my magical sight, I saw a cage of bright white light encase me completely.
It wasn't the type of shield to use in combat because it took too much focus and time to build, but it was the best protection I could use when I essentially only had to stand there and let the spell hit me.
My actions had provoked a wave of hurried whispers among the Death Eaters who probably thought I would use a basic Protego. I wasn't risking it when I might not be able to dodge if the spell was too strong. Crouch, on the under hand, seemed to have let his serious mask slip up and his gaze was now filled with hunger. It disgusted me a bit, especially since the Dark Lord was right there looking at us. I wouldn't be surprised if he decided to punish his minion for his behaviour. I looked at the Dark Lord again. His gaze had turned contemplative and pensive. He didn't seem to have seen Crouch's expression, but you never knew with him.
I turned back to Crouch, nodding at him slightly to tell him that I was ready for his spell and braced myself for the impact. He nodded back, serious again before he channelled and charged his magic in his wand. He made a twisting movement with it resembling a horizontal 8 before slashing up and down again. I frowned at the motion, unfamiliar with its composition.
Plumborum Ignis! he incanted in a shout.
My eyes widened in surprise as I saw a volley of small fireballs shoot towards me as fast as Muggle bullets and felt their brutal onslaught as they crashed on my shield noisily. Despite its strength, I felt my magic drain at the impact and struggled to hold it up. I had to physically push against my shield to hold it in place and felt myself be dragged of a few centimeters on the ground. The fire spread on my shield, enclosing me in a burning cage. I would have died instantly if I had just put up a Protego.
Had Crouch tried to kill me? Had he just misjudged the strength of his spell? Was this whole thing a set up? It couldn't be, however, because I was still tied to the Dark Lord's living force for as long as I didn't forfeit the Duel...Did Crouch know that and tried to weaken the Dark Lord through me? No, that would be absurd.
I shook my head to focus on the present. The air was becoming uncomfortably warm in my little prison and the flames didn't look like they would abide soon as they were sustained by the magic of my shield. I couldn't get out without dropping the shield, and I couldn't drop the shield without burning myself...unless I could Apparate out of it. I sought out Lucius with my magic, but he was too far away to reach him. I resigned myself to one tiring forceful Apparition like I had done when I left Malfoy Manor last time. I felt a bit bad for tearing through Lucius' new wards like that, but it was this, or one crispy Harry.
.
I Apparated with a resounding crack and fell painfully against the Dark Lord's throne. I had aimed at my seat next to him, but I guessed it would have been more intelligent to just target the space in front of the seats. As it was, I nearly fell on the man's lap as I was trying to catch my breath. When I looked up after a few painful moments, I noticed how close my face was to his. His brow was frowned in anger and his eyes flashing with a fury probably directed at Crouch, but I could see the underlying concern for me in his expression and I gave him a small reassuring smile before I headed to my seat and let myself crash on it heavily. I closed my eyes when I felt dizziness take over me and listened distractedly to the Dark Lord inveigh against Crouch. The bottom line was that he liked the spell, but not the delivery. He should have chosen a prisoner or a Muggle to try it on, instead of risking to kill me or any other Death Eater he would have taken for the demonstration if I hadn't been there. I wasn't sure I agreed with his conclusion, but I didn't have the energy to contradict him.
After a while, I opened an eye to look around. The room was covered in a layer of sooth and the fire had scorched the walls close to where I had been standing. The sport where I had stood was completely blackened and there was a circular dent in the marble ground where my shield had stood.
Well. That was violent.
I wasn't sure if I really wanted the Dark Lord and his army to use that type of spells. It seemed...too powerful. At least now I understood why the Dark Lord kept Crouch around, even if he was slightly creepy with me. If the man could create such destructive spells, it was obvious why the Dark Lord wanted to keep him close at his side.
The Dark Lord summoned some of his House-Elves to repair the damage. Crouch left the room without really knowing if his gift had been well received or not.
The Dark Lord declared a few moment of break to allow the room to return to its previous state. The Death Eaters left us alone with the Elves.
Marvolo turned to me, concern forming an unusual facial expression for him.
"I was impressed by your shield and your in-wards Apparition," he stated calmly after a moment.
I snorted at him.
"Are you sure you don't mean to say 'Honey, I was so worried for you?'" I teased him.
He looked unimpressed at my joke.
"I would never call you 'Honey'. It would be horribly Muggle and mundane. Not to mention...domestic," he shuddered exaggeratingly.
I laughed at his act.
"Did you think for a moment that I had died in my fire prison?" I asked him, curious.
He shook his head.
"I would have probably be in agony from breaking my Honour's Duel engagement and losing an Horcrux on top of it if that had been the case. I did worry about the state you'd be in, however, because I would have to dance with sycophantic minions tonight if you couldn't accompany me at the reception," he told me with a smirk.
I rolled my eyes at him again. Of course he would never admit to having been worried about me. Dark Lords could rage and be angry and throw temper tantrums as much as they like, but they could never be worried for anybody else's safety than their own. Theoretically. But I knew better.
A sly smirk stretched on my face as I got an idea.
"What if I feel all drained and need my Mummy-soul?" I said sadly, barely keeping the pout that went with my act from showing.
He shook his head at me, unimpressed.
"I wish you wouldn't use that term. It disturbs me," he stated before narrowing his eyes at me. "Do you really feel magically drained?" he asked.
I sighed and nodded in answer. I did feel quite empty and tired, despite my joke.
"I think I would need a power hug like you did last time. Who knows how my sanity will hold on if I continue like that? I am already in a fragile state because we passed so much time away from one another, you know," I added dramatically, laying it thick on purpose.
He exhaled slowly through his nose and rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache, but then he spread his arms open in a reluctant and mocking welcome.
I pulled myself up again with exaggerated difficulty and hobbled to his throne before letting myself fall on his lap. He snorted at my act, but rearranged me there, pulling me closer to his chest. I laid my head on his shoulder and made a show of snuggling against him. Awww, sweet magic and warm flesh...
"You are a needy brat," he informed me, annoyed.
"I love you too," I answered him in a mockingly sweet voice before the enormity of what I had just said struck me and I stiffened, reddening in embarrassment.
Oh God. I can't believe I just said that.
I chanced a glance at his face. He had lifted a brow at my answer.
"Er...haha. It was a joke. Haha," I said lamely, turning away from him.
He didn't reply anything.
"Well, I feel all energised now. Time to go back to my seat. Ah, yes, my comfy-looking chair..." I started to say while I got off his lap to head back to my place even if I just wanted to go find a dark corner and die of humiliation. His arms yanked me and I fell back on him. Dammit.
"Now, now, Harry. Why are you leaving so fast when you just arrived here?" I felt the smirk in his smooth voice and I wondered if I could go Avada Kedavra myself now.
"Ha. Ha. Why indeed?" I asked rhetorically to give my mind time to come up with a better excuse than 'it was a joke'.
I felt his hands teasingly run up and down my thighs and his breath tickled the skin of my neck.
"I would have thought nothing more of your little quip, Harry, if it hadn't been from your puzzling reaction. Is there something wrong? Something you would like to tell me, my little Horcrux?" he asked in a cajoling tone.
I swallowed nervously. I opened my mouth to give some sort of improvised excuse when someone knocked at the door. I sprung up to my feet and jumped back to my seat as quickly as I could. I had just let myself slump on the back of the chair when Lucius opened the door cautiously and peered inside to ask if everything was alright and if I needed medical attention.
The Dark Lord shot me a glare that meant 'we are not done discussing this' and ordered his Death Eaters back in for another mind-numbing session of gift presentation.
I straightened up marginally on my seat and listened to the introductions again, trying to guess the names of the Death Eaters and what they would give or how the Dark Lord would receive it. Honestly, it looked more like a verification exam for the Death Eaters than a gift session. I wondered if that was not the real purpose behind this whole event. If he forced them to attend, he could probably evaluate them, or maybe Legilimens them while they did their little presentation, and then correct them or punish them accordingly. He probably didn't gather his Death Eaters that often anymore, after all...
.
o0o0o (warning applies to here)
After a few mind-numbing hours of this, I was divided between wanting this eternal ritual to come to an end, and wanting to delay its completion to escape the Dark Lord's scrutiny again.
As the crowd finally started thinning, a big object lying on the ground behind the still awaiting Death Eaters sparked my curiosity. The same awkward moment of determining the order of the last remaining minions passed with a few good ideas and a few horrendous ones as well. In the end, the last Death Eater was standing in the room, his weird cylindrical gift lying behind him before he picked it up magically and placed it horizontally a few paces in front of us. I frowned at it, observing the design on it. It was a carpet. Perhaps it was a magical flying carpet? I had heard of them, but they were still illegal in Britain, as far as I knew it so...what was he doing with it?
"Macnair, explain your gift," ordered the Dark Lord.
Macnair, who was the Head of the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures smiled smugly at us.
"My Lord, you see, the Gods of Nature were shining on me today. I was in Diagon Alley, desperately searching for something else than this fine carpet here to give you, when your gift literally fell on me. I am convinced that it is just what you will need. I am sure that you will appreciate my...discretion for waiting until I was the last. You will probably want to go use it as soon as you receive it. I nearly did myself, but I restrained myself because it was to be left untouched for you of course, my Lord," he explained in very vague terms before he started to bow ceremoniously.
I exchanged a glance with the Dark Lord. Already, he didn't like when his minions seemed to assume that he would like something, but this didn't bode well.
"Get on with it, then," ordered the Dark Lord in a cautious tone.
With a flourish, Macnair grabbed the two top corners of the carpet and got up, unrolling the carpet in the same move.
As it rolled out, it became increasingly obvious that something was hidden in its middle.
I should have said someone.
A little girl rolled on the floor as the carpet finished unrolling itself.
From this angle, I would have barely given her ten years of age. Her long blond hair falling down to her waist was the only thing hiding her from our sight. She was naked and soon started shivering on the cold marble floor.
She lifted her head and looked disoriented. She was probably dizzy from the spinning she had been put through and weak from the Sleeping spell under which Macnair had put her. Her clear blue eyes darted in every corner of the room before they settled on us and she shrieked a little when she saw us.
I gaped at her and couldn't process what I saw. I felt my blood freeze and my insides chill. I couldn't stop looking at her in horror. I guessed that some part of me understood what was happening, but not the one in charge of making me move my ass off my cushioned seat.
I distractedly heard Macnair tell us of how he had apprehended the little Veela that morning in Diagon Alley and of how he thought it would be perfect to satisfy his Master's penchant for...young flesh. The comment shook me out of my stupor and anger rose in me. I wasn't a child! But she was! And this was horrible!
I glared at the Dark Lord and he glared back at me, telling me silently that he had nothing to do with this. I shook my head, letting him deal with Macnair while I would take care of the Veela. I blocked him off completely as I focused on the little girl.
She looked so vulnerable huddled on herself, rocking and crying softly on the ground.
I got up and took off my dress robes, approaching her slowly to not scare her. Her crying became stronger when I got closer and she started repeating:
"Non, pitié! Non, je vous en prie, laissez-moi partir! S'il vous plaît!" she pleaded, but I couldn't understand what she was saying. I could only vaguely guess that she was speaking French, but the only words I knew in that language were 'Bonjour' and 'Merci' and neither 'Hello' nor 'Thank you' were applicable in this context.
I hesitated, hovering above her with my robes in hand, not knowing how to proceed. I crouched on the ground next to her and let my robes fall on her slowly.
She flinched violently at the contact of the fabric, but when I let my hands drop back at my side without doing anything more, she peeked an eye out of the safety of her folded arms.
She twitched away from me when she saw how close to her I was. I drew back of a few paces. Before she could do anything else, her attention was caught by the violent screams of Macnair who had fallen on the ground on the other side of the room, convulsing under the Cruciatus. I felt a twinge in my scar at the Dark Lord's annoyance.
I coughed lowly to bring her attention back to me. Her head snapped back to mine and she tightened her grip on my robes which were now covering her.
"Er..." I began brilliantly. "Do you understand English?" I said, articulating slowly just in case.
Her eyes widened at me before she nodded hesitantly.
"What is your name?" I asked again slowly.
She hesitated for a few seconds, throwing a glance at Macnair's twitching form on the ground and the Dark Lord admonishing him, before she turned her attention back at me.
"G-Gabrielle Delacour," she said in a barely audible voice.
"It's a very beautiful name, Gabrielle," I replied, because I really didn't know what I could say to her after that.
"My name is Harry," I added as an after-thought, feeling a bit silly. I gave her my hand to shake, but she recoiled from me. I let it fall back to my lap, not really knowing what to do.
"I won't hurt you, you know. I'm not like that guy who brought you here," I tried to explain.
It was the wrong thing to say, apparently, because she started hyperventilating at the mention of Macnair. Dammit.
"It must be cold on the ground, would you like to sit somewhere?" I asked her, pointing at the two elevated chairs on the platform. She nodded hesitantly, before starting to get up clumsily.
"Do you need help walking there? Are you hurt anywhere?" I asked belatedly. It should have been the first thing you asked her, you idiot, I berated myself. I had never felt so dumb and inadequate in my life before.
She shook her head negatively, thankfully, and slowly made her way to the chair on which I had sited for the day. She let herself drop in it before tightening my too big robes around her small frame.
Her face was lined with tear tracks and her blond hair was dirty and messy, but she still managed to look like a fragile angel, sitting there in my seat. I kneeled in front of it, to be at her eye-level. She looked at me warily.
"Were you in Britain with someone? Were you visiting someone you knew?"
She nodded once briefly.
I should have asked one question at a time. Now I didn't know which one she answered.
"Can you give me their name? We might be able to go and get them to pick you up..." I suggested.
"Fleur iz my sisteur," she answered in a small voice.
"Fleur Delacour, then?" I asked her, using Gabrielle's last name. She shook her head.
"Fleur Weezy, now," she corrected.
"Ah, she married someone, maybe? A Weez...a Weasley?" I guessed, recognising the name from somewhere.
She nodded again, with a bit more energy now.
"Oui! Bill Weezy iz 'er mari," she answered with a thick accent.
Then it clicked in my head. He was the Wardbreaker who had given me my OWL examination and offered me his contact card for his association. Well, that would come in handy. I extended my hand to call my backpack to me. I had placed it behind my chair for the time of the meeting. I always brought it with me whenever I'd leave to go somewhere. It was a hard habit to break. It snapped in my hand and I smiled apologetically to her when she jumped at the sudden movement.
I got the card out of there after a quick search and read it out loud.
"The Shell Cottage?" I asked her.
She frowned for a while before nodding thoughtfully.
"Ok, great, I can go Floo-call her and she'll arrive here in just a few moments. How does that sound?" I asked her, smiling at her a bit. She answered with a small smile and an adorable blush. I felt better now that I knew what to do.
"Ok, great, then I...
-Harry, what have you found out?" interrupted the Dark Lord who had come up to me and left Macnair in a puddle of blood and vomit on one side of the room. I cringed at the sight and moved to block Gabrielle's vision of it.
"Ah, yes, she's called Gabrielle Delacour, she's French and she's here to visit her sister, Fleur, who is Bill Weasley's wife. You know Bill Weasley? He's a Wardbreaker; he's the one who gave me my OWL examination at the Ministry. It just so happens that he left me his card to discuss wards at some point and stuff. So now we can contact him directly and they'll come to pick her up and all. Great, right?" I summed up for him, relieved that it was settled so easily.
The Dark Lord turned to look at her with a frown on his face. Gabrielle's face fell at his frowning and she was now squirming visibly under his scrutiny.
He sighed.
"I'm afraid it's going to be a bit more complicated than that," he told me gravely.
"What! What do you mean? I have their address; I can just contact them. It's simple," I contradicted, twitching nervously for the poor little girl.
He shook his head at me in regret.
"And what do you want to tell them: 'She is at the Minister's Manor as the Head of the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures kidnapped her because he needed a gift for the pedophile Leader of Britain?'" he said sarcastically. "I'm afraid this has the potential to be a political catastrophe, and more so since she is both French and a Veela."
"Half-Veela," interrupted a small voice. "But, Monsieur, I promiss I will not tell anyone. Doez that go?" pleaded the girl with the best puppy eyes I had ever seen.
She's good...but will the Dark Lord be moved by such a show? I wondered, looking at the Dark Lord to check his reaction.
An amused smile. Right. Of course. Why did I even think that he could be emotionally manipulated by anyone?
"No need for those theatrics now, Miss Delacour. I assure you, they are quite wasted on me," he said charmingly. "Now, perhaps you could help me with something. Could you be, per chance, the daughter of the French Minister of Foreign Affairs and Ambassador to the ICW? Or how is it in French again, la Confédération Internationale des sorciers?" he inquired with that smooth voice of his, making me instantly and quite inappropriately aroused at the sound of him speaking French.
He shot me a smirk; that damned perceptive man had of course noticed my sudden awkward shifting.
"Oui, c'est lui. You kno' 'im, Monsieur?" answered Gabrielle, who was apparently the daughter of the French ambassador for the ICW.
"If I know him? Why, I have had the pleasure of meeting him a few times quite recently, actually. Such a delightfully...frank man."
Somehow, I got the impression that the Dark Lord wanted nothing more than to kill the guy. Hadn't he at some point complained about a French Minister, or something of the kind? It wouldn't surprise me; I had even seen a few maps of France in the war room that detailed potential attack points from Great Britain.
§ You're not...going to do anything to her, right? § I asked him in Parseltongue, interrupting his discussion with the girl.
He lifted an eyebrow at me.
§ Why? Are you worried because she's the sister by alliance of a good friend of yours? Was telling me about that particular friendship part of your new resolution as well, my little snake? §
I looked to the skies, exasperated.
§ He isn't even a friend of mine. I told you I only spoke to him once. He just gave me his card as a business contact thing, you know? He just wanted to talk about wards at some point. I forgot about it completely before Gabrielle arrived...I just don't want anything to happen to her. It's bad enough that she was captured and gifted to you as if she was an animal. I wouldn't want her to be hurt. She had nothing to do with your...enmity with France, or with her father, you know... § I argued.
§ Well, she's French, so she's part of the problem, § he answered in a sadly not-so rare show of racism. § But you are right, if I take advantage of this situation or make her disappear, it will make me look like a villain. That would be playing in their hands. We shall be her noble rescuers, then. Does that suit your heroic senses better? §
I rolled my eyes at him.
§ Yes, Marvolo. As long as she's given back to her sister as soon as possible, § I answered, placating.
The Dark Lord crouched down next to me and had a gentle smile for the still frazzled girl. Apparently, she hadn't liked the hissing show and she was back to being leery of us. It was a bit creepy to see him smile so reassuringly. He nearly looked...genuinely nice, instead of suavely and darkly charming like usual.
I wonder if he'd act like that if he had children at some point... The thought passed quickly through my head and I locked it away. By the gods, this isn't the time!
Gabrielle looked reassured by his calm and gentleness. She probably forgot all about the nice screams of pain she heard in this room. Momentarily, at least. Maybe he added a little covert Calming charm on top of everything. That would certainly explain why she was not in hysterics by now.
"So, Miss Delacour. How about we make a nice little deal so that we can bring you to your sister as quickly as possible, ok?" he asked her in that gentle voice again. Oh, Merlin, this doesn't bode well. I thought, cringing when I tried to think of what he could do to ensure her silence.
She frowned at him, her eyes darting for a moment in the direction of the tortured (and potentially dead, I hadn't checked) Macnair, before she met the Dark Lord's gaze again, the picture of an innocent little girl. Oh, that clever and perceptive girl.
"Wat sort of deal iz that, Monsieur? Not too long, I 'ope. I am sure zat my sizteur and my fazer iz very worried fore me..."
Okay, that wasn't the subtlest attempt at manipulation I had ever seen, but still, she was quite good for a kid.
"Well, you see, we both know that the other man was very, very bad. So, I am going to ask for your help in putting him in jail where he belongs, ok?" asked the Dark Lord, expecting a positive answer.
She nodded firmly at his introduction. So far, so good.
"The only thing, though, is that people might think that we are bad as well, since he brought you here to our house. But we haven't done anything bad, have we?" he said, pushing her to agree with him.
She sent another look in the direction of Macnair's passed out form before nodding again.
"And our friend Harry here, he was nice to you, wasn't he?" asked the Dark Lord.
This time, she nodded more easily. Why was he bringing me into that?
"And no harm was brought to you in this house at all, no?" he continued.
She shook her head at him. I was impressed by her composure. That must be the result a Calming charm. Or an extraordinary self-control.
"Good! Then you won't mind if I make sure you don't tell everybody lies about what happened in here? I know that you are a sweet girl, and that you would never do such a bad thing, but some people out there might want to make our poor friend Harry look like he was a bad guy. You wouldn't want him to be in trouble, or be forced to say horrible stuff about him, right?"
She frowned at him, before looking at me considerately. I gave her an uncertain smile. Then she looked down at my robes that were still wrapped around her and she looked back up at the Dark Lord, nodding decidedly.
I smiled sadly at the poor little girl who let herself be manipulated like that by the Dark Lord partly for my sake. I knew this was necessary so that the event didn't turn into a political fiasco, however, so I kept my mouth shut, but I was ready to intervene if I thought he took it too far.
I wasn't really gifted in Mind magic, though, so I could only guess that he would put some sort of block preventing her from talking about a few incriminating elements of this scenario, or some sort of compulsion to only say a few key sentences about what happened to her like "the Dark Lord and Harry Potter saved me". It was a bit disgusting of him, really, to manipulate a child like that. And it was perhaps even more of me, to just let him do so. But I knew that Mind Magic had this tendency to work better and painlessly when it was consensual, so I couldn't exactly fault his method.
.
Finally, he ended his procedure and passed his hand through her hair briefly in what could pass for an affectionate movement. Her hair cleaned and righted itself under his hand before he passed it in front of her face and her tear tracks and blotted eyes disappeared. He tapped once on her shoulder and my robes suddenly shrunk and changed into a girl's dress.
"Come," he ordered, getting up and striding away. Gabrielle and I looked at each other, not exactly sure to whom he had spoken. Probably both of us, I concluded. I extended a hand to her and she took it cautiously, following my lead out of the room and away from the bad guy who had kidnapped her. The Dark Lord led us to one of Lucius' deserted studies on the ground floor. He opened the Floo connection and presented some Floo powder to me. I took a handful and bent to lift Gabrielle carefully in my arms.
"Alright?" I asked her. She nodded shyly at me before burying her head in my neck. I was surprised that she wasn't more scared of me after all that had happened. Calming charm, again? Or something else, maybe?
"You are to go to that secret place of yours and contact your friend from there. I won't have Lucius' good name implicated in this affair if I can help it. The only story she can tell is that she was kidnapped in Diagon Alley by a pedophile and we happened to pass by and saved her from her tragic fate. Questions?" he asked me.
"Er...what were we doing in Diagon Alley, and why didn't anyone else see us there?" I inquired.
"We were under glamour and had barely entered when we heard her cries coming from a side alley...She won't be able to confirm or deny this, however, so keep as close to the ground story as possible. You can reveal that I tortured her aggressor while you took care of her if that lends credibility to the story," he continued, creating a believable story from the top of his head. I wondered just how much experience he had with covering up stuff like that. It was nearly scary how easy it looked for him to come up with such lies. I could only be glad for it at the moment, so I nodded at him and headed to the fire. I was having enough trouble comprehending what was happening to take charge more than I already had, so I just followed his lead.
"Be back for seven. I still need you for my Ball, remember," he said casually as if he hadn't just dealt with a complex kidnapping-near rape-pedophilia case before dinner.
I frowned a bit at the perceived order, but shrugged mentally before confirming my presence with a nod. To be honest, I really wasn't in the mood for dancing, but then again, I never was anyway. It was just for appearances' sake. And if everything could be settled and Gabrielle back safely to her loving family by then, maybe the chance to unwind might even be appreciated for once.
I should have known that everything wouldn't go so smoothly.
.
Just to clarify, from Gabrielle's perspective, she was put to sleep when she was walking in Diagon Alley and only woke up on the floor of Malfoy Manor. Nothing more. I can't stand reading, let alone writing anything more disturbing than this already is.
Were you surprised by Crouch's spell? Do you think that he intended to hurt Harry? Do you think that Harry was right when he thought that the gift ceremony was used by the Dark Lord to evaluate his Death Eaters?
Part two will see the Weasley's return in the story.
Thank you in advance for your review ^^