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Chapter Fourteen—The Downwards Path

"You're sure that you can do this?"

Harry tilted his head to look at Theo, and smiled a little when he realized that Theo was trying desperately not to hope. It was something Harry had felt enough times himself that he recognized it perfectly.

And it made him feel beyond good that he could be the one to allow Theo permission to hope. He reached out and hooked his hand around Theo's, giving his fingers a squeeze that must have been painful. But it caused Theo to lean back against the seat in the train compartment and close his eyes a little.

"Yes, I'm sure," Harry murmured. "Remember that I did it to Snape, and he isn't showing any sign that he suspects me of it."

"All those detentions he assigns you—"

"Those are pretty normal, Theo. He certainly did it before we had our little confrontation in Hagrid's hut."

"If you're sure," Theo murmured, and leaned a little towards Harry without looking him in the eye. "If something I did got you hurt or…"

"You didn't do this," Harry said. "I'm the one who chose to use the curse on him, and the one who chose to help Hagrid with the dragon."

"I still can't believe an actual dragon let you hold her and pet her."

Harry shrugged. "Dragons are pretty empathetic. Hagrid gave me some books to read on them. It's possible that she could sense how much I wanted to protect her."

"Bollocks," Theo said softly.

Harry didn't want to look at him. Yes, it seemed likely that Theo wouldn't reject him for his Parseltongue. But Harry couldn't take the chance. Theo was the only true friend he was sure he had, despite the fact that he'd spent a lot of time with Hagrid over the last few weeks before the Easter hols and he had gone on not letting Felix see how much his comments had hurt him. Or how close Blaise was becoming.

Blaise proved useful just then by flinging the compartment door open and coming in with a pout on his face. "Why are you so bloody difficult to find, Harry?"

"My brother. He knows that I'm still friends with Theo. I don't think he knows about you at all, but I wanted to avoid a lecture about being friends with Slytherins."

Blaise flopped down on the seat opposite the one where Harry and Theo were sitting, and shook his head. "He's that upset about you spending time with people in your rightful House?"

He was obviously fishing, but Harry just rolled his eyes. Unless Blaise did something really bad, then Harry was inclined to let him get away with as much as he wanted. Blaise made him laugh, and that wasn't something Theo could always do. "Felix has no idea where the Hat almost Sorted me. He thinks I'm a pure Gryffindor."

Blaise stared with his mouth a little open. "Wow," he said at last. "Based on his marks, I thought he was some kind of genius, not some kind of idiot."

"That's his bloody memory. He remembers everything he's ever read."

"Unfair," Blaise proclaimed.

"I have to admit, I kind of thought the same thing, but if it comes down to it, I'll take the elemental magic." Harry smirked and let a little fire flutter around his fingers, making sure he moved his hand away from both Theo and the seat first.

"So you have accepted it."

Theo's voice was quietly satisfied. Harry glanced at him. "Did you think I never would?"

"I didn't know for sure." Theo might have looked perfectly relaxed to someone who didn't know him and simply peered into the train compartment, but Harry could see the tension coiled in his muscles. It would probably remain there until Harry successfully cursed the Figgs. "Based on the way you reacted when I first talked about how powerful wandless magic was and how desperately you were trying to fit into your family."

Harry exhaled hard. He wasn't sure how much he wanted to talk about this, and especially not with Blaise there, listening with greedy ears.

But he was also bloody tired of keeping secrets to himself. And maybe, since he didn't have any choice about lying to the Potters, it would do some good to tell the truth to someone.

"I still thought I had a disease that I could cure with some hard work," he said. "And then everything would be the way it should have been, and they would welcome me back. I think I only started fully accepting my elemental magic when I realized that I couldn't use a wand at all. So it didn't matter how hard I worked. It wasn't my fault that I'd failed to use one."

"They didn't welcome you back?" Blaise blurted.

Shit. Harry should have realized that confessing something like this would touch on secrets he wasn't really ready for Blaise to hear yet. He glanced at Theo out of the corner of his eye, and saw the way Theo nodded.

All right. He didn't think Blaise would betray Harry, and maybe—maybe it would make Harry feel better to have more people who understood his childhood.

He wasn't counting on it, though.

"The Muggles the Potters sent me to didn't treat me well," he said, and watched Blaise visibly swallow. "Lily Potter's sister and her husband and son. My cousin chased me and beat me up with his friends. My aunt swung a frying pan at my head more than once. They didn't always let me eat what I wanted, and they called me a freak constantly. I knew nothing about magic, so I didn't even understand why they were so upset with me."

Blaise shuddered.

"Tell him the rest," Theo said softly.

"Why?" Harry asked, not looking away from Blaise. "What possible difference can it make?"

"Because I want to know," said Blaise unexpectedly, and wrapped his hands around each other. "I'm your friend, Harry. Or at least I hope you think of me like that. I think of you like that. And I should know what my friend went through."

Harry blinked a little. For him and Theo, he thought, it was different. He could tell Theo what the Dursleys had done because what the Figgs had done was so similar. But Blaise wasn't abused, as far as he could tell.

Maybe it can be different with different people, whispered a sharp voice into his head, so unexpected that Harry swallowed himself.

"They made me sleep in a cupboard," Harry said quietly. "They starved me half the time. They never believed that I didn't do something I was accused of, and they never celebrated my birthday or Christmas with me. The first gifts I ever got were from the Potters at my eleventh birthday in July."

Blaise shuddered again and brought up his hands to cover his face. Harry shot Theo a sharp glance. If Blaise wasn't able to handle this and Harry had hurt him somehow, then he was going to be upset.

Theo just shook his head, and made a motion with one hand that clearly said Wait. So Harry looked back at Blaise and waited.

"I was wondering why you called your parents the Potters," Blaise whispered finally. "I understand now."

Harry nodded. "And if you ever suffer from something similar, Blaise, I expect you to tell me."

"So you can suffer it along with me?"

"So I can do something about it. The way I intend to do something about the Figgs as soon as we arrive at King's Cross."

Blaise cleared his throat. "I—I don't think I'd be any use to help you hide bodies."

Harry half-smiled. In a way it was horrifying that Blaise thought he could kill people, and in a way it was flattering. Harry knew which way he preferred to take it. "Thanks, Blaise, but that won't be necessary. I'm going to convince them that it would be better to send Theo back to his father."

"How, though? They'll never do it. The reason they took Theo in in the first place is because Dumbledore convinced them that Mr. Nott was abusive."

"Watch and learn," Harry said, looking up. He could feel the train slowing down, and stood to reach for his trunk. He had thought about staying at the school for the holidays, but then he wouldn't have been able to meet the Figgs, and it would probably have made the Potters suspicious.

Blaise looked back and forth between them, then sighed and said, "I hope you'll trust me later," and left to get his own trunk, wherever he'd put it.

Theo was so quiet and still, even though he was moving, that Harry turned towards him. "I can do it," he said. "I did it to Snape, I can do it to them. I doubt they have minds as tough as Snape's, anyway, not if you were able to manipulate them into insisting you come to their house."

"I know," Theo whispered hollowly. "But it doesn't feel real that I could be back with my father. I need it to be real. If it isn't, it's going to hurt worse than their spells."

Harry squeezed Theo's hand, once, fast, and headed for the door of the compartment. He could feel his strides lengthening, his eyes turning cold as he moved.

I will do this. And they will suffer.

Theo didn't understand why everyone didn't turn around and shiver when Harry stepped off the train. Couldn't they feel the magic moving around him? Couldn't they feel the soaring power that right now was focused on causing as much suffering to Theo's "foster parents" as possible?

Maybe not, Theo realized slowly as he looked around at the people who continued to chat to each other and hug their children and scold them. Maybe he could only feel Harry's magic because he was so used to it and knew what to look for. Or maybe it just didn't stand out as much in the crowded, magical environment of Platform 9 ¾.

"There's Felix. Keep him from seeing me."

Theo took a smart step to the side and shielded Harry from his brother's sight. He knew Harry worried about being caught up in his brother's orbit and dragged off to the Potters before they could find the Figgs. But luckily, given that this was Felix Potter they were talking about, he had to deal with a crowd of swooning fans, and Theo and Harry were able to make their way over to the side of the platform.

"Theodore."

The Figgs always called him that. Theo looked up into Vanessa's pinched face and felt very little. She was handsome enough if you cared about that sort of thing, he supposed, with blonde hair and a musical voice. But he had heard that voice speaking too many curses to find her pretty.

"Foster Mother," Theo intoned dully. It was what she insisted on being called.

Harris stepped out from behind her and scowled at Theo. "Who is this? Some Slytherin brat you dragged along to whine to?"

"His name is Harry Potter," Theo said in the same monotone. "He's the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived. I met him at the party for them that we attended last summer." He kept his back straight and didn't look at Harry. He would be in trouble if the Figgs even suspected how much Theo valued him.

Harris turned to look down his nose at Harry. Vanessa just looked irritated. "You understand that you shouldn't be associating with something like our foster son?" Harris demanded. "You understand that he could turn on you and betray you at any moment? He has no idea of proper behavior. All our efforts to educate him haven't worked out, unfortunately."

In the shelter of his sleeves, Theo's fists clenched.

Harry stared at Harris Figg for a long second, nearly speechless, but hearing the echo of Uncle Vernon's voice in this wizard's.

Ungrateful little freak. Nothing we did worked to stomp that freakishness out of you. Burden. Unwanted—

Harry smiled as his magic unfolded around him the way it had when Snape had confronted him in Hagrid's hut. This was going to be a positive pleasure.

He flung the snakes into the Figgs' minds, straining a little to capture two at once, but he was sure that he'd done it correctly. They both paused, eyes widening. But it wasn't something that would last long, or be that noticeable to anyone else coming up behind Harry and Theo. It would probably just look as if they were startled at something Harry had said.

Harry slid the snakes' tails into their mouths, and thought as viciously as he could, You don't want Theo to stay with you anymore. You want him to go back to his father. He's upsetting your perfect life, and you hate him so much that you don't care if his father kills him. Use whatever arguments you must without stating that outright to get Dumbledore to agree. But for the rest of the time that he's with you, you won't touch him or cast spells on him, either. You hate him so much that you don't want to dirty your hands or your wands.

The Figgs' minds shuddered under his, but they weren't all that strong. Harry had come to think that most people with rigid minds weren't. It wasn't rigidity that gave someone the strength to resist the Imperius Curse; it was sheer stubbornness.

The commands sank into their minds like chains, and Harry added right after that, And every night, you'll have nightmares where you're suffering everything that you did to Theo. You'll never tell anyone else about them. It would be a sign of weakness.

That produced a bigger shudder, and for a moment, Vanessa Figg's mind almost slipped free. But Harry bore down, so filled with rage because of what they'd said and done to Theo that he could have beaten her in a longer contest. A second later, she slumped and blinked.

"Come along, Theodore," she snapped, and turned her back. Harris sniffed and joined her with a curt gesture to Theo.

Theo's eyes widened at their backs. Harry was sure that something had already changed. Perhaps they would have cast a Stinging Hex or the like at Theo to get him to follow them ordinarily.

Theo looked at Harry. Harry nodded and stepped close enough to murmur, "They're going to think that you're dirty and they want you to go back to your father. I'm sorry that I can't prevent them from saying those things to you, but they'll never touch you or curse you again. And they'll dream of what they did you to every night for the rest of their lives, suffering what they did as if they were experiencing it at your wand."

Theo clutched his hand for a long moment. Harry leaned a little towards him, trembling with the magical exhaustion that was trying to overcome him.

"Harry!"

That was Felix. Harry should have known that Felix would find him before either of the adult Potters. He squeezed Theo's hand once, and then turned and stepped away while Theo hurried after the Figgs.

"Hey, son." James was right behind Felix, greeting Harry with a worried frown, his eyes straying to the Figgs. "Nott didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Of course not," Harry said, and kept his voice childishly confused with an effort. "Why would he?"

James shook his head with an uneasy laugh. "Oh, nothing, really. It's just that he's a Death Eater's son, that's all."

"I thought he was better because he was with the Figgs," Harry said, and kept his voice gentle and confused as he stepped back from the owl cage still clutched in Felix's hand. Hedwig was staring at him with her feathers puffed out and looked as if she might attack through the bars at any second. "Professor Dumbledore arranged for them to take care of him, right?"

And Dumbledore will suffer for that in time.

"Yes, but…" James sighed. "Well, it doesn't really matter. I'm glad that he didn't hurt you. Let's go home."

"I think you're right, Vanessa."

Theo paused. He had been walking towards the dining room where the Figgs had set up dinner the way they did every night, but had heard his own name, and paused. Harris's voice was heavy.

"We did our best to redeem Theodore, Harris, and we failed. No one can do everything. All we've really done is summon this disruptive influence into our home and interrupt our own lives. No, the little bastard can go back to the big bastard, as far as I'm concerned. Let him suffer and long for the days that he had here."

Theo's eyes shut, and he wrapped his arms around himself. He was shaking so hard that he was certain he was going to sit down on the floor at any second. He hadn't known—he had believed, he had hoped, but he hadn't—

He hadn't known.

"What are you doing out here, Theodore?"

That was Harris. Theo managed to open his eyes and smile at him a little. "I was coming to dinner," he said quietly, casting his eyes down. "But I can leave you alone if you would rather eat dinner by yourselves, Foster Father."

"No, come in." Harris had a smile that distorted his face. Theo watched him closely and thought that he might have had a shadow of suffering in his eyes, although it was hard to be sure. "We were just discussing that you might be happier moving back in with your father than staying here with us."

Theo made his eyes as big as he could. "R-really? You would do that?"

Harris's expression of disgust was a much more familiar one. "If you insist on it, yes. I think that you've had enough time here to show that things aren't going to change, and your father might as well have you back."

Theo trotted into the dining room after him and sat at the table while the Figgs explained to him that they were giving up on redeeming him and warning him in long lectures about betraying their secrets or trusting his father too much. Theo didn't care. He had even been braced for that, after what Harry had said about not being able to prevent what they'd say to him. He sat there and wrapped his happiness around himself.

And at the end of the meal, they had lifted the spells that kept him from writing to his father. Theo ran straight for the Owlery where Nightshade stayed when they were here and began to write, scribbling on the windowsill with a quill and parchment that were kept in the room.

Dear Father,

The Figgs have said that I can come home to you…

He kept much detail out of the letter, just in case someone would still try to intercept the post when Nightshade flew off with it, and of course he said nothing about Harry. But as he watched Nightshade soar away, it occurred to him that he owed another debt to Harry that he could never repay, one stronger and more profound than the life-debt.

But then Theo shook his head. No, Harry wouldn't think of it that way. He was Theo's friend. He would see this as part of that.

But whether Harry wanted it or not, he had someone who would die for him.

"Are you sure that you're all right, Harry? You've been sleeping so hard the past few nights that I had to look in on you to be sure that you were still breathing."

Why would you be concerned? You left me at the Dursleys' for ten years without checking on that once.

But Harry managed to smile at Lily and duck his head. "I didn't realize how hard I was working on my wanded magic," he whispered. "It's harder now that we're getting into harder spells in Charms and Transfiguration."

From beneath his eyelashes, Harry watched Lily make some calculations, arriving at the result that Harry would always be weaker than he should be, thanks to his "disease." Her smile was gentle, and pitying. "Of course, Harry. Feel free to sleep in as much as you want. And eat as much as you want." She nudged a bowl of porridge towards him.

Harry scattered cinnamon and raisins across it, things that he never got at Privet Drive, and ate through it steadily. He knew that Theo would probably be enraged if he could see the way the Potters were underestimating Harry, and Quirrell would probably be baffled. Why wasn't Harry standing up for himself? Why was he so intent on continuing this lie?

But Harry felt himself filled with a cold, quiet happiness. He had won. He had kept anyone from even suspecting anything about the truth of his magical exhaustion, and Dumbledore seemed to have given up putting monitoring charms on him, and no one but Quirrell and Theo suspected what had been going on with Flint.

He was weak, to them. The weaker he seemed, the more useless, the more he would escape their plans to use him in their politics.

The closer he got to the dream Norberta had given him, of someday living among dragons and using his Parseltongue among people who enjoyed his company. Theo would visit, of course. And Blaise.

Maybe Felix if he ever gets his head out of his arse.

Felix hesitated before he sat down next to Harry at the table in the library. Harry glanced up at him with a small smile. He had a book of magical theory in front of him. Felix had noticed that he'd switched to reading that from history a while ago. He supposed it made sense. Harry would need to understand the theory to understand how to use his wand, probably.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, when they'd sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Did you—I know I said a stupid thing that day you ran out of the common room," Felix muttered, feeling his cheeks turn red.

Harry put a hand to his chest. "And you apologize only a month and a half later! Shocking!"

"Shut up, you prat. Okay, I was a prat that day." Felix found it hard to hold his brother's eyes. "Anyway. I wasn't trying to say that you weren't worth anything if you didn't go along with Mum and Dad's politics, or if you didn't want to help us guard the Stone."

"What were you trying to say, then?"

Felix stole a peek at Harry. He was listening, but his head was tilted and there was a thoughtful frown on his face. Felix had an odd vision of the way that Harry might look when he was grown up, sober and quiet and serious.

"Just that I want us to live in the same world, and you might not be able to live in mine."

Harry's muscles coiled so fast that the vision of him as an adult vanished, and he just looked like the feral child Felix had met for the first time less than a year ago. "Did you hear Mum and Dad talking about sending me back to the Dursleys'?" he asked flatly.

"What—no." Felix took off his glasses and rubbed his nose. Merlin, he was saying everything wrong today. "Not that. I meant something less literal. Just that I'm going to be important in politics because I have to be, because no one's going to let me alone, and I have powerful magic that means people will follow me. If you don't go along with what Mum and Dad want, or you can't…"

"We might not follow the same path. I see." Harry lost the tense look. "Well, I mean, being a Lord or a leader or whatever doesn't sound that good to me, Felix. I didn't grow up with it the way you did. I just want to concentrate on learning more about magic and making up for the disadvantages I have. I hope we'll always be brothers no matter what paths we walk."

"Of course we will!" Felix reached across the table and took Harry's hand, relieved that Harry hadn't been angrier. "We always will. And it doesn't matter to me how powerful you are or what you believe, Harry. I know you're my brother, and you're a good person."

Harry nodded slowly. "Thanks, Felix. Same to you."

Felix left the library with a little glow of happiness like a burning ember inside him. He'd been brooding about his own words for more than a month, and in the end, it was pretty simple to make up with Harry.

Next time, he wouldn't leave it so long before he apologized.

Harry watched Felix leave, and listened to his own power singing in his ears—fully recovered now from casting the Imperius Curse on the Figgs—and felt like snorting. A good person. Right.

I don't want to be a good person. I want to be a living person.

"Father wrote back."

Harry smiled as he sat down next to Theo in the train compartment. "What did he say?"

"That of course I'll be living with him starting with the summer holidays." Theo was almost bouncing in place. It did Harry good to see him looking like a—well, he wasn't really a normal child, but a happy one. "And he's moving quickly to remove anything Dark from the house before the Ministry launches an inspection."

"Dumbledore?"

Theo shrugged. "The Figgs wrote to him on the second day I was there. I don't think he was pleased, but he also seems to have accepted that this experiment didn't work out. And he's probably convinced himself with some kind of genial bollocks that he was only trying to do the best for me, and if I can't recognize that, then he washes his hands of me."

"Huh."

Harry sat back to consider that. He wondered whether Dumbledore would really let him and Theo go, if they seemed weak and useless enough, or if he would try to find some other way to use them. Probably the second one, but maybe he was willing to admit that things like the Figgs hadn't worked.

"Harry."

Theo's voice brought Harry out of his thoughts. He glanced up, and froze at the look Theo was training on him.

"You did something for me no one else could have done," Theo said softly. "There is no way I can repay that."

"I don't want repayment, Theo—"

"And I realized that, so I won't try. What I'm saying is that the important thing—you have my loyalty, Harry. I will never betray you."

Theo's eyes were shining, and Harry reached out towards him. Theo grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard enough that Harry's fingers ached for a second, then let it go. And then he leaned back and smiled and started talking about the Transfiguration assignment they'd had over the holidays, and the moment was past.

But not forgotten. Harry doubted it ever would be.

"You have not yet summarized for me what you learned from the book on elementalist wizards I lent you."

Potter looked up at Lord Voldemort with his intense green eyes. Lord Voldemort watched emotions shift and chase themselves across his face. He didn't reach out with Legilimency, however. Not only could he glean from those expressions what Potter was thinking, but with the sensitivity to the Imperius Curse that Potter had developed, there was a chance he would sense Lord Voldemort's mental touch.

This child was frankly more impressive than any other child of his age that Lord Voldemort had ever met, more than some of his lowest-ranking Death Eaters had been. Which was the reason that Lord Voldemort had made the decision he had.

"I learned that elementalist wizards were feared because their abilities were hard to counter," Potter began.

"Your abilities, Mr. Potter. Let us have no false modesty now."

Potter blinked a few times, and then nodded. "Duelists and Aurors and the like are trained to counter specific spells. Like countercurses for curses. It's harder to react when someone doesn't need to use a specific spell, just a burst of intense fire, to hurt you."

"Of course, it is not impossible," said Lord Voldemort, and let his smile curl along his lips. The boy just watched him. "For creative and flexible duelists, and the upper ranks of Aurors, being able to adapt one's tactics and think on one's feet is a must. And once a wizard knows that he is facing an elementalist, much of your advantage is lost."

"Yes."

"I am much stronger than you are."

Even as he spoke, Lord Voldemort wondered why he was spending time trying to impress the boy. It wasn't necessary. Potter gave him a kind of wary respect, and obeyed him in the lessons, and avoided attacking him because of the oath. To try and get into his head and charm or persuade him was an amusement rather than a goal.

But something about those flat, still green eyes goaded Lord Voldemort to try.

"Yes."

"And that does not bother you?" Lord Voldemort asked, giving in for a moment to academic curiosity. "You do not wish to be the strongest person in a room?"

Potter blinked and focused on him for a moment. Ripples disturbed the surface of his eyes now, but he only said, "No, sir. If I can protect myself and a few other people, then that's as strong as I want to be."'

Lord Voldemort sneered, but inwardly. No reason to make Quirrell's face reflect it. That was one thing he hoped to teach the boy better. He would never be strong enough to protect the fools he cared about from Lord Voldemort.

But he could be the second strongest. Once he had Potter running tame on his leash, then Lord Voldemort would teach him how to be, while at the same time teaching him to bow his head. It would be a waste of Potter's potential to do anything else.

"Explain to me how you would use your connection with earth to shift the ground beneath the feet of an enemy."

Potter nodded, and began, and it did seem as though he'd learned his lessons well. Not that any of it would benefit him when Lord Voldemort made his move.

Harry came awake from a confused dream that seemed to involve the Forbidden Forest. Or at least a forest, with an orange moon hanging overhead and a distant voice calling softly for him. For help.

Help me. Help me. That was the only thing it said.

Harry shook his head and sat up. The soft snores of the other boys—well, all right, four soft snores and one big snore in Ron's case—echoed from around him. No sign of a voice calling for help. Harry lay back down, but could tell after staring at the canopy for a little while that he wasn't going back to sleep.

He got up, slipped on a robe that would keep him warm enough, and made his way down the stairs to the common room. He paused halfway up and shrank back when the fire popped, but no one was down there when he finally eased down the last steps. Even the Weasley twins had gone to bed at last.

Maybe he could sit in front of the fire and stare at it for a while until he got sleepy enough to go back to bed.

He hadn't sat there for more than five minutes before a small piece of paper skimmed towards him. Harry flinched and nearly incinerated it, his eyes darting around as he realized the Weasley twins must be here after all.

But all was quiet and calm. And the piece of paper, which landed on the couch beside him and unfolded, had Quirrell's handwriting on it. Harry supposed it wasn't much of a surprise that something enchanted by a professor could get past the portrait guardian, and picked it up with a bit of curiosity. Quirrell had never tried to give him a lesson in the middle of the night before. Did he have some new idea?

The message was simple.

You will make your way to the third corridor on the right-hand side of the school, to the door that the Headmaster recently declared off-limits to students. I will be waiting there for you. If you do not come, then your friend Mr. Nott will hurt.

Something fell away from the paper when Harry angled it to read it. He picked up what looked like a piece of Theo's dark hair.

Harry froze. The fire on the hearth roared and began to curl out over the stones, and it was a struggle to subdue it back into place. During that time, Harry gained control of his magic, and folded it back around his body.

But not control of his rage.

Harry stood up, wrapped and mantled in fire with the sound of water singing in his ears, and left the common room.