Chapter 48:
As he was about to say goodbye to Ron and Hermione and leave for Dumbledore's office, a hand caught his arm.
"What does the old man want?" Tom demanded. He didn't look happy. Ron flared up immediately at the tone and the bruising grip.
"He doesn't have to tell you, it's none of your business!" the red head snapped. Tom dismissed the Weasley with a curt glance.
"Harry?" he questioned coolly. Harry shrugged, disentangling his arm with a practiced nonchalance.
"No idea," he replied. "Might get back to you when I find out."
The other's gaze darkened, and his - THE Slytherins came to an uneasy halt outside the Great Hall.
"Tom," Zevi began uncertainly, coming to an abrupt silence at the young Dark Lord's cold expression.
"I'll see you later - Hermione, the notes."
He turned to leave.
"He's a manipulative coot, golden boy," Tom reminded acidly. Hermione frowned.
"And you're so much better, right?" she insinuated in a polite tone of voice. A smirk graced Harry's features. Tom's gaze snapped to his best friend. His smirk vanished. Oh no.
"How dare you talk to him," Lestrange hissed, taking an advanced step forwards. "You filthy little mud blood."
Harry immediately whipped around at the words, wand in hand, threats of making Cygnus vomit dirt and sludge for the next week hot on his lips. Ron also had his wand drawn, red faced as his hair. There was a sharp smacking sound and Harry's mouth almost dropped open.
Cygnus staggered back from Hermione, his cheek scarlet. Hermione had slapped him - !
The amusement faded instantly as Abraxas, Alphard and Zevi all joined Lestrange in his hostile stance, ready to attack. The congeniality of the Slytherins had dropped, fading like a smoke screen at the attack on one of their own. For a moment, the only thing his gut could scream was Death Eaters.
He snapped his wand up, stepping between the two groups. There was a moment of utter silence.
Tom was the only one who hadn't drawn his wand, merely standing in the same spot he had been, head tilted back slightly and eyes fixed on Harry's form with a lazy, entertained gleam. Waiting. Testing to see what he would do, how he would react.
Damn it. The Slytherins eyed him warily. Zevi looked disappointed.
Then, slowly, barring Lestrange, they put their wands back into their respective resting places and walked away, waiting for Tom at the end of the corridor. Tom's jaw tightened.
Apparently, he had just failed something or other.
"Cygnus," the Slytherin heir stated. Lestrange glared at him, them, furiously, before lowering his wand and walking away with Tom. Ron and Hermione both stowed their own wands away, while he turned and walked towards Dumbledore's office
He had a horrible feeling that the test he just failed would be coming back to bite him when he ran into Tom again.
***FATE'S FAVOURITE***
Entering Dumbledore's office was like going back in time to his fourth, or even his second year. Nothing had changed. Fawkes' trilled at him from his(?) perch, the spindly silver instruments adorned a cluttered desk and rows of books. The portraits peered at him with interest. The Headmaster himself sat serenely behind his desk, fingers clasped just under his chin.
"Har-" Dumbledore began, before smoothly corrected his address to "Mr Potter" at Harry's expression.
"Professor Dumbledore," he greeted neutrally. "You wanted to see me."
Dumbledore nodded, gesturing that he should take a seat. Warily, he did so. Harry hoped the Headmaster was intuitive enough to skip the pleasantries. He'd had enough of watching everything he did and second guessing and pretences with Slytherin. It would be a welcome break if Dumbledore, for once, would just get to the point and be straight forward. Thankfully, the old man seemed to get the message…or maybe his posture was just radiating desperation or something.
"Firstly, I feel I must apologise to you," Dumbledore started, eyes sorrowful. "For both the treatment you suffered at the hands of your relatives and for my behaviour towards you."
Harry nodded slightly, acknowledging the apology even if he was as of yet unyielding in forgiveness. A few nicely phrased words wouldn't cut it this time. He waited for explanation. Dumbledore was studying him, carefully. For a moment, Harry felt like he was on the verge of something, then the headmaster asked:"
Did you ever endeavour to find out of what came upon your companions, in their futures?" Harry debated silently for a moment.
"No," he replied uneasily. "But I presume you're going to tell me." Dumbledore seemed to leap on the chance.
"Abraxas Malfoy died young, in his early thirties, supposedly of 'Dragon Pox'. Alphard Black was murdered hours after he left his inheritance to Sirius, your godfather. Cygnus Lestrange passed away in a blaze of dark glory in the first rising of Voldemort, Tom's right hand man, an old man. Zevi Prince was killed in the days after his wife gave birth."
Harry swallowed down his nausea. He didn't want to know that. Why had he almost baited the headmaster into telling him? Some part of his mind had saw it as a concession…he saw it now it was tainted knowledge. How was he supposed to look them in the face now and…your Godfather. No, none of them would have been killed for their ties to him. They can't have been. It was just…they'd died so YOUNG.
"Do you know the reason that there hasn't been an uproar, Harry?" Dumbledore continued kindly. "No one knows of Voldemorts past. He never told, and he left no one alive to share it. Only in the deepest roots of the dark side are there even whisperings of the name he used to hold."
Harry stood up, abruptly. It had been a bad idea to agree to this meeting. The Headmaster rose too, his expression pleading.
"He's dangerous Harry. He may not be Voldemort but he's not innocent, he's not a good man. He is, however, an extremely talented, convincing actor."
Harry strode away wordlessly, only to have the door lock in his face. He grit his teeth, his magic swelling, a dozen emotions pounding under his skin.
"Open the door," he ordered coldly.
"I implore you to see reason - we need you. Without you, the light of this world is doomed,"
He had never heard Dumbledore sound like this. So desperate, practically begging. His hero complex twitched, his rage incomparable.
"Why me?" he snarled, turning again. "Why does it have to be me! Tell me!"
"Have you ever heard of horcruxes?"
A/N: Hmmm, I'm not sure how happy I am with this. I hope you guys managed to like it and enjoy it however. Thank you so much for the reviews, I would name you all and send you chocolates if I could. *Virtual chocolates go flying for the taking.* - The Fictionist
PS: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 = O I won't say anymore, spoilers and all that…