Here's the next chapter for you. Hope everyone is enjoying it so far. We get to learn more about the things surrounding Harry in this chapter, so let's see what more we can gleam.
Chaos Born: Destiny Undone
Chapter 5: The Things that bind us
He arrived a few seconds after Snape did, his arrival drawing complete silence from the room, as all eyes turned to him in surprise, most expecting Harry to miss this class, and probably be in the headmaster's office all day.
"What's he doing here?" Draco verbalized.
"Silence! Sit." Snape commanded, gesturing towards Harry to the only empty seat remaining beside Neville.
Harry took it without comment, and Snape began the lesson.
It was obvious that most people weren't paying attention, their eyes remained on Harry, who worked quietly with Neville on their potions work.
Two individuals in particular kept their eyes almost perpetually locked on Harry, Daphne and Tracey watched him with critical and somewhat worried gazes.
After class, Hermione and Ron were quick to pull Harry aside and question him about what happened.
"Snape changed his mind." Harry responded with a shrug.
"That doesn't sound right." Ron noted. "Snape never changes his mind, especially when it comes to punishing a member of another house."
"You hit Goyle." Hermione pointed out.
"And…?" Harry replied with a touch of annoyance, one momentarily shared by Ron who actually found Harry striking the dumb oaf to be pretty awesome.
"And, you can't do that. You could get suspended or worse expelled." Hermione carried on, shaking her head at him, as if expulsion was a fate worse than death or something.
"What was that about Greengrass and Davis?" Ron asked.
"Nothing I just… I've been having dreams about them since I got free." Harry replied his eyes flickering about as if searching for the two in question.
"Having dreams about them? What kind of dreams?" Hermione inquired sharing a curious look with Ron.
"The weird kind. The dreams always include them though. I didn't even know it was them I was seeing until I got a look at them before class. I don't know why I'm dreaming about them, but it's been happening every night, and it's kind of driving me bonkers." Harry gave the simplest explanation he could without going into greater detail.
"Do you think they may be connected to the people who kidnapped you?" Hermione asked, her gaze flickering about as if searching for eavesdroppers.
"I don't know. Maybe. I just… lost my head there for a second. Look… I'll try to keep my temper under control alright. Let's just let it go. I'm sure I'll hear from the headmaster here soon enough so let's just move on." Harry said to them, deciding he was done talking about this. He knew neither of them would understand. Hermione had always been someone who followed the rules, and adhered to authority, and she'd never understand what he'd done, to get back at those who'd wronged him. Ron, well Ron might get it, but then again, Ron had his prejudices, and he wasn't quite sure how Ron would take knowing the full scope of what had been done to him, and what he'd done in turn.
He couldn't trust them, like he used to, and that didn't actually say a lot because he never quite trusted them to begin with. Hermione may have had her suspicions but neither of them knew about his home life, neither of them knew the extent of what he went through for most of life. He trusted them as friends, as school friends, but beyond the walls of Hogwarts, he felt alone, and he'd always felt that way. He liked them, both of them, despite his occasional gripes with their personality quirks, but he didn't trust them enough to reveal what he was going through.
In all honesty, he didn't trust anyone enough to tell them what he was really going through. Even Sirius was kept in the dark about a lot of what went on beneath the surface, and he knew more than anyone else.
Harry felt that he was changing, he was becoming more temperamental and his willingness to engage on his impulsive thoughts was growing as well. He felt his desire to hurt those who'd hurt him, increase. Even people like Malfoy, who'd only ever been just a bully. When he looked at Malfoy, he found that murderous intent rising within him, and instead of being horrified by it, he embraced it. He wanted to hurt him, to kill him. The thought should have terrified him, but it didn't. No, what terrified Harry, what made him sick to his stomach, was the fact that he wasn't repulsed by the idea of murder or bloodshed. The idea of murdering someone didn't bother him, it was because he wasn't bothered by the idea, that he was bothered.
That wasn't something you could easily explain to someone. Especially not without them thinking you were a lunatic and calling the boys in white to put you in a jacket and take you to a nice padded cell.
The rest of the day went by without incident though word quickly spread amongst their year, and then to the other years about what had happened outside of the potions classroom.
Harry had arrived at the Great Hall and could feel the eyes of the student body on him. It seems his hope of avoiding attention this year had gone up in flames, but at least this time he couldn't blame anyone other than himself.
Had he not lost his cool and tried confronting those girls, most people would probably still be going about their own business.
Harry sat down, between Ron and Dean Thomas, and began gathering a plate of food. As he stared down at the plate he became increasingly aware of a pleasant aroma coming from the food. He felt his stomach growl, so he quickly tucked into his evening meal. The food tasted absolutely heavenly. Something about it today, he just couldn't quite place it. The food, his pumpkin juice, it all tasted incredible.
He couldn't help but smile as he indulged himself in the meal, losing himself to the sights and smells of the feast, while others took notice of his seemingly whimsical state.
"Harry?" Hermione inquired, taking note of his reaction. She sat across from him, and was giving him a look of confusion.
"Yes?" Harry asked in response.
"Are you alright?" Hermione inquired.
"Perfect. Honestly… I can't remember the food ever tasting this good." Harry replied.
Hermione raised an eyebrow at him and glanced at the spread laid out between them.
"The food tastes how it usually does…" Hermione noted with confusion.
"Let the man eat will you." Ron waved her off. If there was one thing in the world that Ron Weasley held sacred it was meal time. In his mind, you did not disturb a man who was tucked into a nice meal.
Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron, while Harry continued to enjoy his food.
"Potter!" He heard a female voice curtly address him.
Harry slowly blinked, taking in a sense of concern, worry, fear, anger, and resentment. These feelings touched at his mind, and slowly he glanced over his shoulder to the source of the voice.
Daphne Greengrass stood behind him, glaring down at him.
Harry blinked at her once, than twice before swallowing the food in his mouth. "What is it?" He asked.
"Come with me." Daphne instructed, turning and beginning to head off.
Harry blinked again, and shared a glance with Ron.
"Well you wanted to talk to her. Good luck mate." Ron said with unease, as he focused back on his food.
Harry made a noise at that and rose to his feet, his curiosity and desire for answers, overpowering his want to continue consuming this delicious food.
He could feel the entire school watching him as he followed after Greengrass, with whispers breaking out as he reached the door to the Great Hall.
He was pretty sure most of them expected Greengrass to murder him for his embarrassing outburst earlier that day. He knew absolutely nothing about Tracey Davis, and only knew Daphne by name, due to her reputation. She was known by his year-mates as the Slytherin Ice Queen, due to her icy personality and stone cold demeanor. Daphne almost never smiled, and almost perpetually wore a mask of cold indifference. Other than that, the only other thing he knew about her was that she was in Slytherin House.
Needless to say, most expected her to get some form of retaliation for his earlier outburst, and to be honest, he expected the same given what he was feeling from her.
He took a moment to really take in her features as he walked behind her. Daphne was about his height, and she moved with a prim and proper precision. Her long blonde hair was straight as could be, yet it waved as she walked. Her features were sharp, narrow eyes, a small mouth, her face seemingly always schooled into a look of disinterest, yet in the same breath, a scowl or glare fit nicely upon it. She was beautiful, probably one of the prettiest girls in their year, maybe even Hogwarts, but her aura was frightening. She had the look of a mean girl, and not just some stereotypical schoolyard bully, but of an absolute bitch. Daphne Greengrass gave off the feel of someone you wouldn't approach on the best of days. That was the first impression her got from her.
They made it to one of the girl's bathrooms and stopped at the entrance.
"Wait here." Daphne commanded him before heading inside.
Harry was left standing there for several long moments. He just hoped he got some answers out of this. To finally be able to understand why he was seeing her in his dreams, would lift a great burden off of his mind.
Moments turned to minutes. Soon nearly five minutes had passed. He could hear people drawing closer in the halls.
"What the hell is she doing in there?" Harry wondered as he made a face.
Several more seconds passed before a thought struck him.
"Oh, that clever… she's just going to leave me standing outside the girl's bathroom so I look like even more of a creep." Harry shook his head and began walking away. He had almost fallen for it. Had he waited much longer, people would have filtered out of the Great Hall and spotted him standing outside of the girl's bathroom. Then, given everything that was being said about him, they'd make up their own story about why he was there, and all Greengrass had to do was sit in the bathroom for a bit. He hadn't looked around for Davis in the Great Hall, perhaps she was waiting to escort her Slytherin pals in this direction so that they could 'find him' skulking around the bathroom.
"Slytherins…" Harry grumbled as he walked off.
A part of him wanted to head back to the Great Hall and continue enjoying that incredible food, but a little voice in the back of his head whispered that if he returned by himself, people might find it odd and gossip some more.
'Why the hell did I think it was ever going to be that easy?' Harry muttered internally as he walked towards the library.
Despite the supposed connection he felt towards the women in his dreams he had to remember that they were just that, dreams. Those women weren't real, at least not how he pictured them. And whatever connection he felt there was, was made solely within his mind.
He found himself a seat and sat back in thought. He was currently the only person in the library other than Madam Pince. Soon people began to filter in, those who sought research material for their studies. He caught a few whispers as people took notice of him, some probably wondering what Greengrass had said or done to him.
Harry just sat quietly in thought, basically tucked into his own world, contemplating his situation, and how he was going to have to act going forward. He knew by directly threatening Snape, that he'd have to have a chat with Dumbledore. Maybe that chat would reveal something more about the illusive Headmaster, something that could confirm or deny his suspicions about the man, and the nature of his actions.
It had been nearly an hour, when he heard that same voice say his name.
"Potter!" Someone spoke sharply.
Harry broke out of his musings and glanced at her. Greengrass approaching him with a cold look plastered on her face.
"What is it Greengrass?" Harry asked, fighting off a scowl as he began to see the demon with blazing eyes, instead of the Slytherin Ice Queen.
"You wandered off. I told you to wait there." Daphne said to him.
"I waited long enough. I wasn't going to spend forever standing outside the girl's bathroom like some sort of creep, what do you take me for?" Harry responded, shaking his head and returning her glare, with one of his own.
"We need to talk." Daphne said.
"Sure, because our last two talks went so well." Harry muttered, shaking his head once more.
"I wasn't leaving you there, I had to help out a friend." Daphne offered as an explanation.
"Good for you, would have been helpful to know that before you dragged me away from dinner." Harry grumbled, still a bit bummed about missing out on that food, since it tasted so delicious.
"I didn't know it would take that long. Now come on, we're wasting time." Daphne instructed, turning away from him.
Harry didn't move, he simply stared after her. She made it several feet before glancing back at him.
"Why don't you just tell me what you want." Harry decided, interjecting as he saw words forming on her lips.
"To talk. Now let's go." Daphne replied, her glare growing even darker.
Harry stared at her, his mind awash with her emotions. She was angry, and frustrated. There was fear there too, and a deep sense of worry. Her anxiety was also churning within her mind, which further amplified her other emotions.
Harry was about to say something, about to tell her that he knew what she was doing, and he wasn't interested in becoming a further laughing stock, but something kept him from vocalizing that feeling. Instead he simply let out a sigh, and rose to his feet.
Maybe he was wrong? Maybe she was telling the truth. He definitely needed to learn how to control his mental powers. This pick and choose when it came to what he could feel was less than helpful at times. In fact it usually provided more questions than answers.
He followed behind Daphne, this time she led him to an empty classroom. Just like before, she stopped him at the door.
"Wait here, I wont be more than a moment." Daphne instructed him, and Harry felt his temper flare for a moment.
An urge rushed through him, making him want to push the door shut, and pin her to the wall, and demand she tell him what she wanted.
He could see it clear as day, his clawed hand around her throat, the idea nearly made him smile, but it was cut off by the sound of the door closing behind her.
Harry let out a sigh, and stepped away from the classroom. He walked a bit and sat down against one of the walls. At least this way it wouldn't look like he was stalking around outside one of the classrooms. Anyone who wandered by would just think he was sitting here, deep in his own thoughts.
"What is with her?" Harry thought to himself. He still suspected some kind of foul play. He expected at any moment to hear Malfoy and his cronies begin to approach from one of the halls, to 'catch him' acting suspiciously or perving on Greengrass. Whatever story they wanted to make up. He could see it happening, and he wanted no part in it. He began to count in his head. He'd already sat here for about a minute. He'd give her exactly one more, and than he would leave.
He counted off the seconds, making it all the way to forty-five before he began to rise to his feet.
He was about to begin heading off, when the classroom door opened and Daphne stepped out glancing around looking for him. Her eyes settled on him and she waved him over.
"Checking on someone again, Greengrass?" Harry questioned mentally as he approached the door.
He made it through the door when a loud couching began and filled his ears.
"Dammit!" Daphne hissed, as she shot deeper into the classroom. Harry stepped in after her and spotted the person who was having the coughing fit.
Tracey Davis knelt over a bucket on the far side of the classroom, coughing so violently that Harry thought she might puke.
"Out Potter!" Daphne snapped at him as she knelt beside Tracey to try and steady her friend, her eyes snapped to him in fury.
He could still feel her emotions, and it allowed Harry a grasp of what was happening. Daphne didn't want him to see this. Didn't want him to see Tracey like this. She was trying to protect her friend, protect her image.
That was why Daphne had led him to the bathroom before. Tracey must have been inside, praying to the porcelain gods. She must have had a fit like this which was why Daphne didn't come back for so long.
"What's wrong with her?" Harry asked.
"I said out!" Daphne snapped in response.
Harry ignored her and approached the two. As he got closer, he felt his body begin to tingle. Every time he blinked, the image of the pregnant demon took the place of Tracey Davis.
Tracey continued to cough, and gag, unable to vomit up anything. Occasionally she spat some vile fluid into the bucket and groaned. It occurred to him that if she'd been like this for hours, she probably didn't have anything left to throw up.
"Why haven't you taken her to Madam Pomfrey?" Harry questioned as he knelt opposite of Daphne and extended a hand towards Tracy.
He pulled the spell out of Voldemort's memories, a diagnostic charm, one that would tell him what was wrong with her.
Daphne was about to rebuke him and tell him to step outside once more when she saw his hand glow with magic. A dim blue glow passed out from his gloved palm and washed over Tracey. Whatever he was doing, he was doing it without a wand, and without verbalizing a spell.
"No, no… No Pomfrey. She… can't help…" Tracey muttered, as she wiped at her mouth and coughed again. Tears stained her cheeks, painting a pretty clear picture that she'd been dealing with this for a while.
Harry blinked as the diagnostic spell completed and a list began to form in the air. It began to list out a number of afflictions, causing Harry's eyes to go wide.
Nearly twelve different diseases were listed there. The only one he recognized was the Flu. From Voldemort's memories he got a few more, but he only managed to know about six of the twelve.
"Bloody hell…" Harry muttered, as he noticed that two of the diseases that Voldemort knew of were fatal. One a magical virus and one a mundane one, both were likely to kill you though.
Tracey glanced up at the list, her eyes wide in horror, while Daphne glared at it, her arms wrapped around Tracey, trying to steady her friend.
"I don't…" Harry began to say, only for Daphne to cut him off.
"The spell is wrong Potter. This has happened several times already. Every time she gets sick like this, the Diagnostic spell returns a number of different diseases, some of which we've never even heard of. Then a day later, she's fine and it turns up nothing." Daphne explained to him.
He blinked at her, trying to wrap his mind around that.
"I-It's coming… f-from the m-m-mark…" Tracey muttered, as she tapped at her left shoulder.
Harry shifted himself and looked at her shoulder. Tracey was wearing a long sleeve shirt so he couldn't see it, but given where she was gesturing to, he felt a cold chill pass through him.
Quickly, Daphne helped Tracy partially remove her long sleeve shirt, revealing just a plain t-shirt beneath it. Before either of them could do anything else, Harry reached out and touched her shoulder, slowly pulling up the sleeve until he saw it.
Even before he reached it, he knew what he would find. He could see the way her skin appeared sickly, almost like she had an infection of some sort. Her veins were dark, and her skin was pale and blotchy, turning an infected purple around the mark. There on her shoulder, in the exact same place where his mark was, sat a copy of the mark he bore on his shoulder.
The mark was glowing, radiating with a sickly green light, and from it, a sticky pale substance slowly oozed out, like a form of pus.
"When you bumped into Tracey this morning, it started glowing, and she got sick. This is the worst she's been since it first appeared!" Daphne growled at him.
Harry blinked at that, his fingers tracing over the mark, causing a groan to escape Tracey's lips.
"Sorry!" He pulled back, "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"It… didn't hurt… it actually felt… good. Numb..." Tracey replied, her voice sounded hoarse, obviously the violent coughing had been tearing at her throat.
"Do you know what this is Potter?" Daphne demanded.
"Yeah." Harry replied quietly. "Well… sort of."
"What is it? No one else can tell us exactly what it is. We know what it's supposed to be, but the nature of the mark is illusive. No one can fully grasp it. No one, not the healers at St Mungos, not the goblins, no one. You know what this is, tell us!" Daphne told him, causing Harry to blink a few times.
For a few seconds he considered how to explain this. After a few moments, he decided just to show them.
Harry pulled off his school robes, he then pulled his sleeve over, fighting to stretch the fabric without tearing it so the two could see the mark on his shoulder.
Both had their eyes go wide. The first thing they noticed was, of course, the Behir arm, but then their eyes settled on the mark on his shoulder. How it glowed the same emerald green that Tracey's did. Both marks were an exact copy of each other. Both placed in the exact same location, both glowed with the same luminosity and seemed to corrupt the area around themselves.
"It has something to do with Disease and Stagnation." Harry said to them, allowing them a few more seconds to look at it before he pulled his shirt back into place.
"What the hell happened to your arm?" Tracey muttered.
"A mad witch who held me prisoner over the summer tore my body apart and replaced those parts with creature parts. She used me as a type of experiment to perfect some sort of Chimera ritual. She carved this mark into me, along with several others." Harry answered, causing both girls' eyes to further widen.
"Someone… t-took you body parts? Replaced them with… creatures? Oh god… Potter… I'm…" Tracey muttered.
"Don't bother. Focus on now, please." Harry cut her off.
Tracey blinked at that before nodding. She, like everyone else had wondered how Potter had lost his eye. She'd even laughed at a few of Draco's more creative suggestions. Had she known that he had been mutilated and experimented on, she never would have so much as tolerated such vile discussion let alone took some minor form of pleasure from them.
"Wait, you said this happened over the summer, what day?" Daphne questioned him.
"It was a lot of days. I was held for over two weeks. The last day though was the night of the World Cup." Harry answered back.
Both girls blinked at him as Tracey's hand came to clutch at the mark on her shoulder.
"It appeared the same day didn't it?" Harry asked, realizing why they were reacting this way.
"Yeah. I felt it carve into my skin. It was like a jagged nail was scratching this mark into me. Afterwards, it began to glow, and I got really sick for a day or two. We went to the healers, and they were horrified, said I had ten different diseases, seven of which were lethal. By that night though, the mark had stopped glowing, and I suddenly wasn't sick anymore." Tracey answered him, earning a curious look from Harry as he digested her words.
"But you've gotten sick other times afterwards?" Harry inquired.
"Yeah, usually at night. It's not always, but some nights I just… I feel sick… and… … I have dreams…" Tracey said to him
"When you said you saw us in your dreams Potter, what did you mean?" Daphne asked him.
Harry turned his gaze to her and stared at her for several long moments. He had heard her question, but at that moment a realization was being had. Slowly, his eyes drifted to Daphne's right hand. There he saw a black glove, and his stomach dropped. He took in a breath, and allowed the blackened cloth to retreat from around his skeletal dementor arm. He also removed the glove he wore over his right hand, and held up his palm.
A bright blue glow colored the faces of the two girls. The mark on his palm was radiating just a brightly as the mark on his shoulder.
"You too, Greengrass?" Harry asked.
Both Tracey and Daphne stared at the mark in disbelief, neither really taking note of the blackened mummified flesh of his right hand.
Slowly, Daphne removed the glove from her right hand and held it up. There, carved into her palm, was the exact same mark.
"It appeared at the exact same time, didn't it?" Harry questioned her.
"Yeah. Though I didn't get sick." Daphne quickly replied.
"That mark has something to do with Magic and Change, so I understand why." Harry stated as he placed his glove back on.
"God, what the hell happened to you?" Tracey muttered, her eyes scanning over the blackened flesh of his hand, as it vanished beneath the glove.
"It's like I said. She tried turning me into a Chimera." Harry answered as he finished getting his coverings back in place.
"Did anything happen when you got your mark? You didn't get sick but… was there anything at all?" Harry asked, his eyes focusing in Daphne.
Daphne stared back at him for a long moment while Tracey looked at her, almost as if imploring her to answer truthfully.
"Something did happen." Harry noted from Tracey's look.
"Yeah, something did." Daphne replied, her gaze growing distant.
"Come on Daph, now's not the time for it, just tell him! We need to figure this out!" Tracey urged her.
Daphne let out a noise before shaking her head and speaking. "When my mark appeared, so did a large tattoo on my back. When my mark starts glowing, the tattoo starts moving."
Harry made a face at her explanation. He remembered how her demonic self had symbols, almost like runes tattooed into her flesh, but he'd never seen her back, so he didn't know if there was a tattoo there as well. Even if he had seen it, he probably wouldn't have noticed it over the mass of tentacles and the blue scaled serpent that emerged from her back.
"What does it look like?" Harry asked.
"It's a snake. A blue snake coiled around itself and trailing down my back. It's sitting on a bed of tendrils, almost like an octopus's tentacles." Daphne described.
"Wow…" Harry blinked.
"Show it to him." Tracey said.
"I'm not showing it to him." Daphne countered.
"It's just your back Daphne, besides it'll be moving right now, and maybe he knows something that'll help. At least show him the snake's head." Tracey threw back at her.
Daphne made a noise and then let out a sigh. With a huff she shifted in place and lifted up the back of her robes, as well as her shirt. She only showed the lower half of her back, but it was enough for Harry to grasp what she was trying to say to him.
Covering her entire back, was the tattoo she described. Low on her back, he could make out three or four tentacles that spread out almost like the image of a star, and hanging low following along her spine, was the snake. It's head sat just above the small of her back, and the eyes of the snake blazed blue, just like it did in his vision.
"Here, feel this." Tracey said, grabbing his arm and placing his hand on Daphne's lower back.
"Hey!" Daphne snapped in surprise.
"It feels like scales right?" Tracey ignored Daphne's protests, though she did pull back after a moment, and glance at her own hand, realizing that she had just touched Harry's Behir arm.
"It does feel like scales…" Harry softly noted, his fingers trailing against the snake's head. The skin felt like a snake's scales, felt almost like an exact match to the skin of a snake.
He pulled his hand back and stared at the snake, it's blazing blue eyes seemed to almost stare back at him from beneath Daphne's skin.
While Harry stared at the mark, Daphne was busy blushing and glaring at Tracey.
"Do you have dreams too Greengrass? Davis said she did, do you?" Harry asked, his eyes still locked with the snake's.
"Yeah…" Daphne responded before pulling down her shirt and robes and turning back to them.
"You said before that you saw us in your dreams Potter, what did you mean by that?" Tracey asked him.
"I see you in my dreams… both of you. With three other girls. Each one I think, corresponds to one of the markings on my arms." Harry answered honestly.
"You have more markings?" Tracey asked.
"Yeah, one on the back of my left hand, one on my left forearm, and another on the back of my right hand. The one on my left hand represents war and blood, the one on my forearm represents pain and excess, and the one on the back of my right hand is the symbol of House Peverell, the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, like from the story of the Three Brothers." Harry answered, pointing to where each mark was on his arms and showing them the two on his Behir arm, neither of which were glowing right now.
"So there's three other girls that have a copy of one of the markings that was carved into your flesh." Daphne noted, as her gaze turned pensive.
"I don't know why the markings appeared on you. I honestly couldn't tell you. I wish I knew, there's so much about this all that I still don't know." Harry admitted.
"You said you saw us in your dreams… we have dreams too, been having them since these marks appeared, almost every night in fact. What are yours about? Have you seen… well I mean… is there anything weird going on in your dreams?" Tracey asked, sharing a glance with Daphne at the end, as she tried to formulate what she should ask.
Harry caught the action, and could sense Tracey's worry. Something in her dreams deeply bothered her, but she didn't want to say it out loud. If their dreams were anything like Harry's he could infer what was bothering them.
"In my dreams… I see death, and destruction. I see a thing, a creature, burning the world down. I see it every time I go to sleep. At the end of my dreams though, I see these five women. They're all adults, but… they're different… not human. When I saw your faces earlier today I recognized them from my dreams. I've been dealing with this for several weeks now, and it's really been bothering me. Sorry about my outburst by the way. It's just… well you understand it. If your dreams are anything like mine, than you understand why having answers is so important." Harry offered to the two.
"Just try to keep from any more outbursts Potter. I'd rather not draw attention to our problem, especially in your case." Daphne responded.
"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked curiously.
"These marks… we don't know what they mean, but according to the goblins, they're slave brands." Tracey answered, causing Daphne to glare once more, this time at nothing in particular.
"Slave brands?!" Harry blinked in surprise. Already his mind was drawing upon Voldemort's knowledge, and as the information was drawn forth he felt his blood run cold.
Slave brands were an archaic and forbidden form of magic, one that not even Voldemort wanted to rely upon. The reason being was that such powers could grant one complete authority over another being. Voldemort had attempted to do such a thing with his Dark Mark, but had stopped before going all the way when he realized that reintroducing such magics into the world was a recipe for all sorts of chaos. Voldemort was someone who believed that only the strong should rule, and that power equaled might, and might made right. Slave brands granted complete authority over the body and magic of the enslaved. Even if the slave was stronger than the master. It allowed the weak to prosper and the strong to wither. Slave brands were also a two-way street. In the past, Slaves had found a way to use their marks against their masters, using magical rituals to cast spells through the bond that could target the master no matter where he or she was. It also meant that the slave was an extension of the master so if the master's enemies got a hold of the slave, they could also use the brand to affect the master, without needing to actually capture the master.
So Voldemort had stopped from going to such a length with his Dark Mark for fear of the possibility of someone using the connection against him. There was also no way to remove the Slave Brand once it had been placed. If the master died, than his heir became the inheritor of the brand's ownership, and with magic being involved it was very hard to completely wipe out a family line, or it's magic. Even if someone was only distantly related to a person, they could become the heir to a previously unknown relative, and receive all of their worldly possession, and that included that relative's slaves. There was also Right of Conquest to consider which opened up an even greater can of worms.
Needless to say, it wasn't something that you messed around with unless you were demented. The enslaved themselves were completely bound to their master's will and had to fulfill any command he or she gave them with no limit to it's absurdity or immorality. Anything the master could command, the slave had to do, anything.
"The goblins told us that these were Slave Brands based on the magic around them. They have no idea how they were placed or what they mean, but the magic around them bonds us to a specific person. I'm assuming since you bare the opposite mark, that means it's you Potter." Daphne added on.
"But I don't understand. Why would someone bind us together like that? I mean… you said your marks just appeared on you right? They weren't placed on you by someone?" Harry questioned.
"Yeah. It just appeared. We were both awake when it happened, but we were also alone. No one else was there, but like I said earlier, it felt like someone was dragging their nail across my skin, cutting this mark into my shoulder." Tracey offered.
"And the goblins couldn't even tell you what the marks mean?" Harry reiterated.
"The marks keep changing Potter. When we look at them we see them one way, but when someone else looks at them, they see them another way. We can't explain how they look and we can't write it down. The shape of the mark is some kind of magical secret. Tracey and I know the secret about the mark and can see each other's marks as they truly are, but we can't share that knowledge with other people." Daphne explained to him.
"Yeah, your marks though, they look like ours. I'm guessing that your marks have the same protections over them that ours do. The mark doesn't appear how it truly is to whomever you show it too. The reason why no one seems to know what the mark means is because they can't perceive it, and we can't convey what it actually looks like. Maybe you can, as the supposed 'master' in this relationship, but I doubt it, since you didn't place the mark yourself." Tracey added on.
"I didn't know that. I guess that makes sense. Still… it's just another layer added to the mystery. Why would someone bind me to the two of you, plus three other women? I wasn't supposed to live past this experiment. The person who did this to me, intended for me to die. Why go through all of this, just for someone who's doomed to die?" Harry vocalized the question that had been nagging at him for weeks now.
Why? Why go through all of the effort? 'Just to see if she could.' A little voice in his head responded.
He knew it was the truth, but he refused to accept it. There had to be a greater reason, had to be a reason for his suffering, for his continued suffering.
Doing all of this, just to see what would stick, what her ritual could accomplish. Was that the purpose of the brands too? Just so McTash could see what would happen? He knew that wasn't the entirety of it. According to her notes these marks were meant to represent greater powers, and entities aligned with those powers that McTash had tried to bond to him using the Chimera Ritual. No where in her notes did it mention these marks also being Slave Brands that bonded others to him.
He didn't know the answer, and none of his ideas really made any sense.
After a few moments he simply shook his head. "I didn't want this. I didn't want any of this." Harry said to them.
"Well whether you wanted it or not, it's what happened, and we need to find a way to end it. We only have a few years to figure this out before it becomes really complicated." Daphne responded, her tone a bit harsh.
"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked her.
"We're still young, underage as it were, or well… you are. Until you're an adult, we wont be required by the brands to fulfill 'all' of your needs and wants." Daphne answered him, narrowing her eyes challengingly as she did.
Harry blinked at her as Tracey blushed. It quickly dawned on him what she was referring to, and his mind instantly flashed an image of the two beauties as he saw them in his dream. Their forms alluring, and filling his mind with lewd thoughts.
He blinked a few more times and shook his head. "No! I wouldn't do that. Even when I am an adult, you don't have to worry. I wont ever ask you to do something like that."
"You don't have to ask Potter, that's the problem. The Brand would ultimately compel us to fulfill your desires, and we'd be punished if we didn't. Meaning if you were feeling randy, we'd have to help with that, even if you weren't after one of us specifically. All you have to do is want it a little bit, and that's all it'll take for the brand. If even a small part of you wants something like that, even if you don't want it from us, we'll be compelled to try and give it to you, to… throw ourselves at you." Daphne spoke the last bit with disgust, making it clear what she thought about that idea.
Harry may have found her open disgust offensive, if he didn't find the whole situation equally disgusting.
"Yeah, like for example, if you wanted kids, but didn't have a wife at the time. We'd be compelled to throw ourselves at you to try and get knocked up. We're forced to, by the brand, and we only have until you become an adult before that power fully kicks in." Tracey added in, for the briefest of moments, Harry noted it as odd that she would be the one to mention kids, considering she appeared as a mother in his dreams, but he quickly cast the thought aside.
"So… we've got till the end of fifth year." Harry noted with a sigh, causing both girls to share a confused look with each other.
"Fifth year? No you're not an adult until you graduate and complete your NEWTs." Tracey pointed out.
"Those are legislative laws, set in place only in the last century or so, and they aren't magical laws, meaning that magic wasn't used to create them. They're just legislation, a few words written onto paper. For the longest time your OWLs were taken when you turned fifteen because that was the age your were considered an adult by magic. It's the age you have to be to inherit a lordship, and it's the age that magic will generally recognize you as an adult even if you aren't emancipated. It's why marriage contracts need to specify when you complete Hogwarts, or when you graduate or when you take your NEWTs. If the contract just says adulthood, than that means fifteen and after you take your OWLs. I turn fifteen in July of next year. If these Slave Brands go off of old magic, and they most likely do, than their affects will fully activate after I take my OWLs. Magic doesn't care what rules or laws we people come up with but it holds to them unless a powerful magical body uses a ritual to change them. To my knowledge the Wizengamot never used those rituals to actually change what Magical adulthood meant so anything enforced by magic will follow those original laws." Harry explained to them.
"Shit!" Tracey cursed as her eyes went wide. Daphne just stared at him in disbelief as she digested this information.
"I thought we at least had three years to fix this! You're telling me we've got the rest of this year and fifth year and then we're your slaves?!" Tracey added in after a few more moments of quiet.
"I guess." Harry responded still deep in thought, trying to piece together why this was happening.
"Alright, we'll figure this out. You just wait to hear from us Potter. Both of our fathers are on the Wizengamot and have connections at Gringotts, we'll figure out an answer to this problem, you just be ready to play your part. No funny business, alright, otherwise you'll have wished that witch had killed you." Daphne growled at him, causing Tracey to slap at her, while Harry felt his teeth click together at the threat.
"Make no mistake Greengrass, I want out of this just as much as you do. I've had my fill of the murderous scumbags that spawn out of your house, and I'd rather have nothing to do with them." Harry spat back at her, an angry smirk appearing on his face.
"Don't lump either of us in with them. Malfoy and his goons may be the loudest, but they're certainly not a representation of all Slytherins." Daphne tossed back.
"Say what you want about him, it doesn't change the fact that you willingly hang out around him. That tells me more than I need to know." Harry shook his head and let out a bitter laugh.
"We only hang out with him because we have a marriage contract with him, it's not like either of us like him or anything." Tracey cut in.
"Both of you?" Harry blinked in surprise.
"Yeah both of us. An alliance was formed between my house and House Black a long time ago, but there were never any heirs that fit the bill and eventually the contract was forgotten. Jump forward to about a hundred years ago and another contract was formed between the Blacks and the Davis clan, but again, there hasn't been two children of opposite gender that fit the age requirements until now. Neither contracts specifies monogamy, so yeah, both of us are set to marry Malfoy. We don't have to like him, but it is our duty to join our houses, and this whole Slave brand 'thing' is getting in the way of that alliance. We need to end it, and soon." Daphne informed him.
"Draco… the head of House Black?" Harry thought to himself in confusion. It took a moment for him to realize that it was through his mother, Narcissa who was the youngest of Sirius' cousins. The oldest was Bellatrix who had no children, the middle child was Andromeda Tonks who, like Sirius, was disowned, leaving the line to continue through Narcissa. Sirius himself who had also been disowned from the family, was still referred to as 'master' by Kreacher which, knowing Kreacher, if he could get away with not doing that he would. Perhaps Kreacher simply had to refer to all members of house Black as master? Harry didn't immediately know, but still, the idea that Malfoy was going to inherit Sirius' family name just pissed him right the hell off.
"Well… lucky you two. Don't worry, I have no intention of getting in the way of true love, or your 'alliance' or whatever. Let's just find a way to break this bond, so we don't have to deal with each other anymore." Harry finally said, earning a firm nod from Daphne, while Tracey seemed to deflate a bit, but nodded none the less.
"Let's try and stay away from each other until we figure something out, I'd hate for you to get sick again if we ran into each other, and once more I'm sorry it happened." Harry offered to them as he stood to leave.
Tracey gave him a small smile that showed that she accepted his apology.
"You'll be hearing from us Potter." Daphne said to him.
"Looking forward to it Greengrass." Harry offered in response trying to hide his sarcasm. He knew that there was little choice in the matter for either of them, being bound to magical contract an all, but the idea of anyone willingly marrying Draco instead of literally attempting anything else just disgusted him. Honestly were he in their position he would have offed himself long ago than even attempt to make the best of it with Malfoy.
He knew what their fates would be. Both of them would give him a child or two, and then if they were very lucky, they'd just be placeholders that he'd ignore for most of their lives. Realistically though, Draco was a bastard, and an ass. He didn't put it past the prick to use them as leverage against their families and even go so far as using their looks to broker deals with other potential allies once they'd fulfilled their use to him.
Harry knew from Voldemort's memories that Lucius had no such qualms about using his own wife for such dreadful things. In his mind's eyes he could clearly see images of Malfoy Sr. passing off his wife to potential allies to use her as they pleased. Purebloods were vile creatures, if Voldemort's memories were any indication.
Harry doubted the apple would fall far from the tree in Draco's case. Pureblood women had only one real use to their husbands in this society, to pump out as many children as possible. If they were very lucky than the two would fall in love and have a bond with each other, but in most cases, it was just a business arrangement, and that led to cruelty and debauchery, and honestly, it all disgusted Harry.
"The more I think on it, and the more I learn, the more I understand why you hated this goddamn society Tom." Harry thought to himself as he made it to the door, and left the empty classroom.
Their discussion had lasted a little over an hour, and Harry was certain Ron and Hermione would question him when he returned to the Gryffindor Common Room.
So while he walked there, he came up with a lie to tell them.
As expected the two were waiting to ask him about being dragged out of the Great Hall by Daphne, and he just made up a lie, telling them how Greengrass wanted to chew him out for his freak out earlier. He apologized and they went their separate ways. That was pretty much it.
They seemed to accept that, with Hermione offering a mild scolding for his earlier outburst as well, especially picking a fight with Snape. He just rolled his eyes as her, and said his goodnight.
That night, Harry dreamed of them again. The five women, they were all present in his dreams, though it was the one with glowing eyes, and the pregnant one who approached him this time.
Getting a clear look at the two, he knew he'd been right. Despite their mutations it was quite obvious to him who they were. The one with the glowing eyes was Daphne, and the pregnant one was Tracey. He fought with all his might to remain aloof around the two, but those feelings that he always felt around them smashed into him without any mercy.
The two moved around him, playfully teasing him, with Daphne occasionally reaching out to trace her finger over his body, across his shoulder, his chest, or his back. Tracey was much more physical, circling him and then pressing up behind him, wrapping her arms around him in a powerful embrace.
It was such a strange and disturbingly pleasant thing. He could feel her belly pressed against him, and feel the heat of breath coming out of the mouth that spread across it. Her round breasts also pressed against him, and they were just as soft as he imagined them to be. He had to fight not to focus on the feeling, but it did him little good, when she started placing wet kisses on his neck.
It got even worse when Daphne stopped in front of him, gazing through him with those blazing blue eyes.
She then gave him a smirk and approached him, reaching out with both her hands to take his face. As she approached him, the tentacles on her back grabbed onto her robes and hiked them up. Daphne's body pressed against him, and he immediately felt the warmth of her thighs wrap around his engorged member.
This was the most erotic he'd ever seen her, and he was left absolutely stunned. With a devilish smirk she leaned in and kissed him.
Just like with Death, he awoke in a cold sweat, the echoes of both of their laughter filling his ears as he sat there in the dark. A few seconds passed before he once more recognized the warm feeling spreading across his lap.
Harry let out a groan, and then beat his fists against his head, trying to drive out the laughter of the two sexy demons that were tormenting him.
"Why the hell did that happen… it's like they know…" Harry groaned out as he continued to thump his head.
The following day things slipped back to something resembling normality. Harry went through his day getting about the usual looks he'd normally get, and of course he caught Draco whispering and making comments about him, but that was nothing he wasn't already used to.
Tracey and Daphne paid him little mind, though he did notice that once when he was glancing at them, Tracey glanced back and blushed when she caught his gaze.
That seemed strange to him, but he chose to ignore it. She at least seemed to be doing better than she was yesterday. Just as Daphne had said, the sudden sickness would come and go, no doubt an effect of the brand.
The teachers continued to observe him from a distance, though he had yet to be summoned by Dumbledore, meaning that the old man was either trying something new or hadn't heard about his confrontation with Snape.
Either way, Harry was happy with the distance. He just wanted things to calm down so he could try to get his head wrapped around them.
Three days went by when he was once again confronted by Malfoy and his goons.
"Potter!" Malfoy called out to him as he was walking towards Charms class.
"Walk away Malfoy." Harry growled without turning back. Ron and Hermione stood by his side, both of whom glared back at Draco and his posse.
"No I don't think so. Ya see, you owe certain members of our house a public apology for that little outburst the other day. You embarrassed them, and embarrassed yourself, and you owe it to them to apologize in front of everyone." Draco called him out.
Harry slowly turned his gaze back towards his longtime tormentor. Gathered around Draco was his gang, and by his side were Tracey and Daphne. Daphne simply appeared stoically annoyed, while Tracey seemed visibly upset. He could pick up both of their emotions. Tracey was worried and fearful, while Daphne was deeply annoyed and angry. What exactly she was angry about, be it him, the embarrassment he'd caused her, or Draco he didn't immediately know.
Still, his gaze eventually settled on the arrogant smirk on Malfoy's face.
"Come on Harry, let's go." Hermione whispered to him, attempting to pull him away from the confrontation.
Harry though, brushed her off as he felt his anger beginning to grow.
Harry clicked his teeth together, and was about to offer a witty retort when an image suddenly flashed into his mind's eye. It was Draco, torn open, his guts spilling out as he screamed. The image was shocking, and it caused Harry's eyes to go wide. Without meaning too, he realized that he was grinning.
That murderous feeling was back, flooding his right eye.
Harry brought both hands up and rubbed his face, fighting off the desire to rip Draco limb from limb. He wanted too, he wanted to so badly that it almost hurt.
"What's the matter Potter? You're fine embarrassing these fine young ladies, but you can't even apologize for it?" Draco questioned him mockingly.
Harry allowed his hands to drop, he was still smirking.
"Say one more word Malfoy. Just one… Open your filthy, inbred mouth. One! More! Time!" Harry growled out between gritted teeth. Draco's eyes widened at the threat, and those around him took in a breath or gasped in disbelief.
"I told you already Malfoy, I'm done dealing with the wretched gremlins spawned from maniacal Deatheater scum! Say one more word Malfoy, and I will drag you to the Forbidden Forest and feed you to the Acromantula." Harry declared with hellish intent. Draco blinked at him, color draining from his face, at the monstrous viciousness in Harry's eye.
Tracey and Daphne both went wide eyed at his threat as they took in the hellish look on Harry's face.
"Harry! What are you doing!? You can't say that!" Hermione gasped at him.
"Bloody hell…" Ron muttered in surprise.
Harry took a step towards Draco, watching in his mind's eye as this annoying worm was torn apart again and again and again. Harry wanted to do it, wanted to make it real. It quickly dawned on him, quickly settled in that he hated this piece of filth as much as he hated the Dursleys.
"What's that. Nothing to say? To much of a coward! Do the whole world a favor Draco and drop dead. I have neither the time nor the patience to put up with you anymore. The next time you choose to confront me like this, I'm going to take you apart piece by piece and see how the Giant Squid likes the taste of blonde ponces." Harry snarled at him, with obvious hate. The whole hallway had gone silent at that.
"I thought not." Harry spoke and shook his head, he then faced Daphne and Tracey. "Sorry for my outburst. It wont happen again." Harry said to them a bit too sweetly, both were obviously unnerved by this new outburst.
With that said, and with Draco still standing there in stunned silence, Harry turned and continued along his way.
Now the students had something more to talk about. The big story of Hogwarts at the moment, Harry Potter, the boy who went bat-shit crazy.
It kept them occupied for the next few days, and obviously word finally got back to Dumbledore about Harry's outbursts.
Harry was left to ponder the old man's angle as he was escorted up to his office. He couldn't help but wonder, since he knew that Dumbledore had definitely heard about his first outburst, so then why had he waited so long after the second one to finally call him in to talk to him?
Harry didn't know, though perhaps this meeting might illuminate a few things.
He arrived at the Headmaster's office and was immediately offered a seat.
"Harry… I understand you got into a fight with Mr. Malfoy earlier this week." Dumbledore began.
"I wouldn't call it a fight, professor. He confronted me, I told him off, and we went our separate ways." Harry replied as nonchalantly as possible.
"I heard that you threatened him Harry." Dumbledore pointed out.
"I did. I told him to leave me alone, or else it wouldn't be pretty." Harry stated.
"What exactly did you say Harry? From what I hear it wasn't so tame as that." Dumbledore questioned him.
"Honestly I can't remember sir. I know I was angry at him, and I just wanted him to leave me alone." Harry answered, earning a curious look from Dumbledore.
The old man stared at him for a good long while before letting out a sigh and rising to his feet.
"I understand that you've been through a lot Harry. What you endured, no one could expect you to make it through that without issue. If you need to talk, I'm here." Dumbledore offered.
"I don't need to talk sir. I just want to try and forget it." Harry replied as politely as he could manage.
"What happened has obviously had an effect on you, and the loss of your family… I know it must be hard." Dumbledore continued, almost as if he hadn't heard him. Harry almost laughed at that. If anything he wanted to celebrate the death of the Dursleys. At the very least he planned to raise a toast to the anniversary of their death, the rotten bastards.
"I'm dealing with it sir. When I'm ready to talk, I will. I just… need time." Harry offered to him, hoping that would be enough.
Dumbledore stared down at him, analyzing him with a piercing gaze, and once more attempting to read Harry's thoughts when their eyes met. Just like before he couldn't make heads or tails of Harry's mutant brain, and was ultimately left with nothing. Dumbledore being a natural legilimens was something that unnerved Harry, and the fact that he was using it on him so consistently was troubling. He couldn't help but wonder if Dumbledore did this with everyone, just casually reading their minds, listening to their surface thoughts.
If he did do this with everyone than how in the hell hadn't he noticed Quirrel and his fall from grace, or Lockheart and his ineptitude? Or if he had, than why hadn't he done anything? 'Because he's a manipulator.' A small voice whispered into Harry's head.
"Such confrontations cannot keep happening Harry. I intend to offer you some leniency due to what you've been through, but I will have no more threats or outbursts. You and Mr. Malfoy should work to get along with one another. Learning to forgive and move past our grievances is a major part of growing up Harry." Dumbledore explained to him.
Harry felt his ire rise at that. Was Dumbledore seriously telling him to forgive and forget when it came to Draco's abuse? Draco made absolutely no attempt to apologize or earn Harry's forgiveness so why should he give it to the annoying git?
Harry let out a breath from his nose, while Dumbledore continued his tirade on forgiveness. Whether it was meant that way or not, Dumbledore succeeded in only one thing this night, and that was insulting Harry by calling his dispute with Draco a non-issue, and by insinuating that Harry was being childish for not just forgiving the blonde-haired bastard.
All Harry could do was grit his teeth and offer an agreement to placate Dumbledore and try to get out of there as fast as possible. If he had to sit here for much longer and listen to the Headmaster, he would certainly have another outburst. A small part of him noted that Dumbledore hadn't mentioned his confrontation with Snape. Did that meant that Dumbledore didn't know? That didn't seem very likely. What was going on in regards to that?
"Alright Harry. I hope you know that you can come to me, if you need anything. I'll respect your wish for time and space, but I do believe that eventually you will need to talk about this with someone. If not with me than someone you trust." Dumbledore said to him.
"I will professor. If I ever feel the need, I can talk with Sirius." Harry said to him.
Dumbledore offered him a smile at that, he then let him off without a detention.
More time passed with Harry spending most of his time either on his schoolwork or practicing with his new powers. Learning to control his abilities, and use them on command would definitely help him later in life, so whenever he had free time he'd learn about what he could do.
The main thing he was eager to learn was how to control his new mental powers, specifically his empathic abilities. Right now they were selective, only activating at random times, learning to control them and use them at will would help him immensely.
Using his knowledge of Legilimency and Occlumency taken from Voldemort's memories, Harry was able to begin to tap into his new mental powers.
Control came slowly at first, but eventually he was able to learn how to open his mind to emotions, allowing him to feel all of the emotions of the people in his immediate vicinity. It was a helpful start. Harry also took time to practice his spell work. Using Voldemort's memories he picked up almost instantly in his classes, and so he took the time to familiarize himself with all of the spells that Voldemort knew.
He started with the basics at first, spells that he'd learn in fourth and fifth year, but he quickly soared through those within a day or two. He decided if he was going to keep practicing and see how far he could take this he'd need a private place to practice. There were two available to him. The first was the Chamber of Secrets. He was the only person in the school who could open it so that made it ideal, but the entrance was where Moaning Myrtle liked to hang out, and it was possible she'd tell someone he was coming and going from there which he didn't want.
The other option was the Room of Requirement. The place where Voldemort had hidden Ravenclaw's diadem. The Room of Requirement was made by Rowena Ravenclaw and could change into any shape or form, and offer anything a person may need. The room could answer the need of anyone attempting to access it, so if Harry needed a place to practice his spell work, he could ask the Room for that, and get it.
He wasn't the only person who could get in, but almost no one knew about it, so as long as he was stealthy he could go there and practice.
The best time to go though would be at night while everyone was sleeping. He still didn't get tired, and his dreams were still filled with those vixens who were always eager to torment him. Staying awake all night and practicing his spellcraft was an easy alternative to putting up with that and waking up with a mess in his pants or an erection that would last for hours.
It didn't take long for Harry to convince himself that the Room of Requirement was the way to go, so one night, after everyone went to sleep, he threw on the Invisibility Cloak and made his way to the Room's location.
Located on the Seventh floor before a painting of a wizard trying to teach trolls to dance, the Room of Requirement could be accessed by pacing in front of it three times and envisioned the specific kind of room you needed.
So Harry envisioned a training room with everything a wizard would need to practice spell work.
The door soon appeared and allowed him access, and it did not disappoint. The room had everything he'd need to practice with.
He wasted no time getting right to it.
Each night he would use Voldemort's knowledge to practice various spells and abilities. He raced through sixth and seventh year spells until finally he had learned every spell that Hogwarts taught in its curriculum, from there he began practicing the spells that Voldemort had learned outside of school.
It didn't even occur to him until after he'd practiced a spell or two and began to memorize it that he was delving into the Dark Arts, and it wasn't until much later that Harry would take a single moment to stop and question why he hadn't hesitated to embrace such pursuits.
The answer came quickly to him when he questioned himself. He simply wanted to know. He was curious, he wanted to know and learn, and understand.
He was doing so well in his classes that he pretty much didn't pay attention in them anymore. His teachers offered very little in the way of differences compared to the lessons that Voldemort had learned when he was in school. It was just something that went to show how little Hogwarts curriculum actually changed and evolved if the knowledge taken from a wizard some fifty years prior was still accurate.
About the most dynamic lessons came from DADA but that was easily chalked up to the revolving door of DADA professors. Still Moody's lessons were fascinating. He even showed them the effects of the unforgivable curses, and even showed them what it was like to be placed under the effects of the Imperious Curse. The fact that he was able to cast the curse on them at all, set off some alarm bells in Harry's mind.
He knew the truth about these curses, something that Moody hadn't told them during the lesson, and that was that you could only cast one of these curses if you had true hatred in your heart for the victim. The fact that Moody could cast the Imperious on each and every student, meant that he hated them all, and that pretty much sealed it in Harry mind. If anything, anything at all happened to him this year, anything strange or mysterious, any problems, it was Moody who he'd be looking at first and foremost.
His attempt to cast the curse on Harry had ended in failure. It's not that Harry was able to throw off the curse, but more so that he simply wasn't affected by it at all. No matter how many times he tried to cast it, it simply didn't work for some odd reason.
Harry had no idea what to attribute that too. Was it his magical resilience? The Mind Flayer parasite in his brain perhaps? He had no clue, only that he was happy to learn that he was resistant to mind control.
As the days passed, more and more people began to ask or wonder about what had happened to Harry's arms. It was easy enough to see due to the eye-patch that he'd lost it during the summer, but people began to notice that his arms were completely covered all the time, even when out of school uniform, and people began to openly pester him about it.
Harry just chose to ignore them since it was none of their business. He simply chose to focus on his practice and learning.
It was the day when the two other schools were set to join them that Harry received another letter from Gringotts instructing him to arrive at a meeting to be held on the weekend two days from then. His account manager had to discuss some very important information with him that had arisen due to the audit.
Harry had no real choice but to accept and inform McGonagall that he'd need to be excused from school on that day so he could go to this meeting.
She wasn't exactly happy about it, but the Goblins were an ornery bunch and refusing to do things on their time was a good way of getting yourself into major trouble. She or Dumbledore would have to escort him to Gringotts though they wouldn't be allowed to attend the meeting without being Potters, so Harry would have to face the Goblins alone.
It didn't really matter to Harry, he just wanted to know what was going on with his accounts and why the goblins were auditing him.
Harry sat with the rest of his classmates as the others schools arrived.
The first to arrive was Beauxbatons. The ladies of the school arrived with a choreographed dance that displayed their elegance and skill. It was an interesting display, earning gawking looks from many of the boys at Hogwarts. The last two girls in the procession moved alongside their headmistress, one appeared to be the youngest, while the other was someone whom immediately caught Harry's attention.
She offered the students an elegant dance then joined hands with the youngest girl in offering a bow to the school and to their headmistress.
As she rose from the bow, Harry caught sight of her face and he felt his gut sink.
In his mind's eye he saw her, like an angel wrapped in silk. Luscious curves, and a marvelous beauty, pink feathered wings hanging off of her back, two ram-like horns sprouting from either side of her head, and a bone-like tail to finish off the appearance. This was her, it had to be. The angel from his dreams. The one who bore the mark representing passion and excess. His eyes were locked onto her in disbelief. Thankfully so was everyone else. This girl and the younger one beside her, gave off a radiant aura that immediately clued Harry in that they were Veela.
It took all of his effort to pull his eyes away from her, as Dumbledore welcomed these students and sent them to sit at the Ravenclaw table. He then introduced the next school Durmstrang. Harry barely paid attention to the arrival of the northmen, his gaze mostly locked on the table as he tried to wrap his mind around the presence of yet another girl from his dreams. He was only snapped out of it when Ron slapped his side, drawing his attention to one of the Durmstrang boys. He called the boy Victor Krum, whom Harry remembered to be one of the players for the Bulgarian Quidditch team.
Harry sat quietly during the feast, deep in thought. Thankfully no one seemed to notice as they were too busy talking about the new arrivals.
Lost in his thoughts, Harry didn't notice her until he was gently tapped on the shoulder.
He heard Ron gasp, as Harry turned his gaze to the source of the tapping. She was there, standing behind him, the angel from his dreams. She seemed to blink at him, surprise appearing on her face for a moment before pulling back. For a moment Harry suspected that it was due to his eye-patch that she was surprised but then he remembered how his touch and even presence had affected Tracey and Daphne. If this girl bore a similar brand, than his touch would cause it to react.
She blinked at him a few more times, her right hand coming to touch at the covered skin of her left forearm, the same place where the mark resided on Harry's body. He knew in an instant that he was right, she was the angel from his dreams.
"Ex-excuse me, the bouillabaisse dish, may I have that?" She inquired in french. Harry didn't know a lick of french, thankfully Voldemort did, so he understood exactly what she had said. She seemed to stumble over her first word, indicating that she had certainly felt a reaction when she had touched him. He could only hope it wasn't as bad as it was for Tracey. Daphne seemed to have it alright, her mark merely manifesting a tattoo on her back that moved around beneath the skin. It took a moment to realize that the girl was glowing, her inborn power of allure was running full blast as she stared down at him.
All the boys that sat around Harry were actively gawking at her, though not Harry, he just stared up at her for a long moment before turning back to the table towards the food dish she had mentioned. It looked to have been untouched by his classmates so he had no qualms about giving it to her. He grabbed the dish and passed it to her, and she took it and quickly sped off back to her seat without even offering a word of thanks.
Harry followed her with his eye, as did all of the other boys and he saw her sit down next to the youngest girl who quickly started talking to her, and the girl started talking back.
He knew, as soon as it happened, that she had keyed into him, just like Daphne and Tracey had. Something had happened with her mark and she now identified him as the cause. This was confirmed when both she and the younger girl glanced in his direction, their eyes meeting his, causing both girls to blink in surprise.
Younger girl reacted a bit bashfully and looked away but the older one stared back at him, as if trying to dissect him with her eyes. He matched her gaze for a moment before pulling his eyes away when he heard Hermione say his name.
"What was that all about?" He heard her ask.
"Nothing… I thought I recognized her from somewhere." Harry replied quietly.
"From where? Your dreams?" Hermione inquired, earning a look from Harry.
"No." Harry answered her questioning look.
"That was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Blimey, I think I'm in love." Ron uttered.
"She's a Veela Ron, you're not in love." Harry muttered, giving his friend an elbow to break him out of his revelry.
"Ow, ya git. That hurt! What do you mean she's a Veela?" Ron asked in return.
"Do you remember the cheerleaders at the World Cup? Like them Ronald." Hermione explained. "Veela have a power called Allure, it allows them to manifest an aura around themselves that makes them more attractive. She's not actually that good looking…"
"Speak for yourself…" Ron muttered, earning a chuckle from Harry, while Hermione glared at them, scandalized.
The next few days went by without a hitch, the new students participated in their own classes and hung around the school or explored it in their off-time. Harry did what he could to avoid the Veela whom he suspected was keeping her eyes peeled for him. Eventually they reached the weekend and Harry was escorted to Gringotts by McGonagall.
They arrived and were escorted into the back, McGonagall had to wait outside while Harry was led in to speak with his account manager.
"Mr. Potter, welcome." The Goblin gestured to the seat, opposite him.
"Hello, I understand that you're my account manager." Harry replied as he took a seat.
"I am, my name is Bearclaw, I've been the Potter Account manager for the better part of seventy years. This here is Bloodfang, the Black family account manager, he'll be joining us in this meeting." Bearclaw explained to him, introducing the second Goblin who stood beside the desk.
"Alright, I understand that Gringotts has been auditing my accounts, something about a strangeness going on, but I don't know much more than that." Harry said to them, wondering why the Black family account manager was here.
"Well, a few months ago, a strange occurrence was noted with your accounts. Firstly, was the sudden bindings that appeared between the Potter and Black accounts, and with the Davis, Greengrass, Lovegood, and Delacour accounts. This was very strange to us, as our systems indicated that you now had heir access to all four of those additional accounts, as well as suddenly having heir access to the Potter accounts. We didn't know what to make of this, and unlike with the other changes, we weren't informed of any change of your status. Our investigations have turned up two marriage contracts…" Bearclaw began explaining the situation but stopped when he noticed the confusion on Harry's face.
"Did something I say confuse you?" The Goblin inquired.
"Well, yes. Firstly, I'm not sure what the Black family accounts have to do with any of this. I'm not a Black…" Harry began.
"You are a Black, or at least you will be upon reaching your maturity." Bloodfang interjected.
"What? How?" Harry asked, scouring his mind and Voldemort's for answers to that. The only connection he could find was Harry's grandmother Dorea Black, but that wouldn't allow Harry to supersede Draco in the line of succession to become heir, and it still left him primarily a Potter.
"Your Godfather, Sirius Black. He named you his heir. Currently, Sirius Black is Lord apparent of House Black due to not claiming his lordship ring or openly acknowledging his lordship. Because he hasn't you'll be able to claim that Lordship when you come of age, if he has not. You are the lord's heir, but the lord hasn't claimed his seat, meaning once you fit the criteria for lordship of House Black, you can claim it. You've been heir to house Black since you were born, Mr. Potter." Bloodfang explained.
"But I thought Sirius was disowned from the family?" Harry stated.
"He was, only to be renamed to the House of Black by Lord Regulus Black, whom also named Sirius Black his heir. The lordship passed to Sirius upon Regulus's Death, but Sirius Black has not claimed that Lordship so it remains open to his heir to claim upon that heirs coming of age. When you turn fifteen and complete your OWLs you'll be legally allowed to claim the lordship of House Black if Sirius Black has not claimed it before hand. Given that he's on the run and in hiding, I doubt that'll come to pass. If you do not claim the Lordship yourself within five years, the next eligible member of the House who sits in the line of succession will have the ability to claim the Lordship." Bloodfang informed him, causing Harry to blink a few times, and sit back in his seat.
"So the two marriage contracts that are tied to me are from House Greengrass and House Davis?" Harry noted numbly.
"You are correct." Bloodfang pointed out.
Harry's mind was a whirl at the idea. So the two women bound to him with a Slave Brand, were also bound to him by marriage contract. He understood quite quickly why he suddenly had heir rights to their family accounts. The Slave Brand meant that all that was theirs was his. Both girls were heiresses to their families, meaning as his property, he now held heir position over their families unless another was named as heir by the current Lord. No wonder the goblins were confused. Still he didn't know about the other two. Lovegood and Delacour. Lovegood was the name of a defunct ancient house. They ran a small newspaper, the Quibbler, but Harry had never read it, and neither had Voldemort. That must mean they had a daughter, the one who represented War and Blood. Delacour had to be the Veela's last name, and that also meant she was the heiress to her family as well.
He had also mentioned that Harry had suddenly gained heir rights to the Potter accounts as well, what did that mean?
"I'm sorry, you mentioned that I now had heir access to the Potter accounts, what do you mean by that? I thought I already was the heir, and I haven't come of age yet?" Harry asked, knowing full well that the heir had to be his older sister. It was at that note that Harry's eyes went wide and a realization slammed into him.
He shut his eyes and saw her there. A beauty in blackened armor with raven locks that framed her face and hung low on her back. Her eyes blazed emerald, a color so vividly familiar to him. The armored devil of his dreams, the one who he always felt so wrong for liking, for wanting. What if…? What if that woman was Olivia?
Olivia Potter, his big sister… could it have been her? Was that the reason he felt so wrong for being attracted to her? Because deep down he knew who that armored devil really was?
"According to our records, up until a few months ago, there was someone else as the heir to house Potter. However, now you hold that position. The nature of the magical bond that exists connected to you, may hold the answer. It's one reason I wanted to speak to you today. If you wouldn't mind, we can perform a blood test that will show us without any doubt the nature of the situation and why you suddenly have access to all of these accounts." Bearclaw said to him.
"A blood test… alright. Just tell me what I have to do." Harry replied, still partly in shock from his realization.
Bloodfang collected a knife and a bowl, another realization slammed into Harry. If he was right, and Olivia was the one that represented War and Blood, than that meant the Lovegood girl, whomever she was, was Death…
Harry blinked several times as the bowl was set before him and the goblin explained what he needed to do. He barely listened to the explanation, already knowing what was required of him. He took the knife and cut his palm of his Behir arm, allowing his blood to spill into the bowl. Once enough had gathered the wound healed over.
The goblin than dipped a piece of magical paper into the blood which absorbed it. The paper itself smoked and seemed to singe the skin of the goblin when he tried to touch it. He made several faces at that and even shared a confused look with Bearclaw before the paper had finished absorbing the blood.
Once it did, he was finally able to retrieve it without burning himself. He set the paper before Bearclaw and the two read it over before glancing at him.
A cruel smile spread across both of their faces, which finally broke Harry out of his stupor and drew his attention back to them.
"What does it say?" Harry asked.
"Someone's been very naughty mister Potter." Bloodfang noted.
"Slave Bonds right?" Harry questioned, earning toothy grins from both of them.
"I didn't place them if that's what you're thinking. The woman who tore my body apart, and grafted all of these magical parts to me, she's the one who placed these marks on me. Made these Slave brands…" Harry said to them, showing them his Behir arm, causing the smirks to fall from their faces.
"I see…" Bearclaw uttered in astonishment.
"Still… it is these Slave Brands that are causing this. It now all makes sense." Bloodfang noted with a content nod.
"So that answers all of your questions and concerns?" Harry asked them.
"It does. Well… for the most part. This paper tells us everything we needed to know in regards to the strange occurrences with your accounts." Bearclaw answered.
"It also provides you with a legal defense if any of these families seek to have you charged with line theft." Bloodfang added.
"Line theft?" Harry repeated, before letting out a groan.
"Yes. Were you the one who actually cast the spell to create these Slave Brands, than they'd have a case to pursue, as it stands though, this document confirms that six different magics were used to create them, your magic wasn't one of them. Five of these magical signatures don't match anything in our records, and the last belongs to someone who is currently deceased, no doubt the person who mutilated your body in such a way." Bloodfang informed him, causing Harry to release a sigh of relief at that. At the very least, he had some protection if anyone wanted to come after him over these brands, and the goblins confirmed that McTash was dead. Whatever had caused her body to disappear, in the end she was still dead.
"So I can't be charged with Line theft even if I'm the recipient of the benefits?" Harry inquired, just to clarify.
"British Wizarding laws. Designed it such a way so that the powerful can stay powerful and always have an out. So long as you didn't make the brands, you didn't actually enslave anyone, and thus you specifically can't be charged with a crime. You get all of the legal benefits, without any of the criminal blame. Morally, culturally, and by societal standards, most people will consider you a bastard regardless, but at least you can't be charged criminally. Even if one of these families wanted to come after you, they'd be endangering their children because of it. The brand is already formed, the pact sealed. Targeting you, opens them and the children up to magical retaliation. That kind of backlash has been known to be lethal." Bloodfang gave him a menacing grin as he explained it. Once more Harry sighed, but he offered no complaint.
"Well thanks for letting me know. At least they can't come after me legally for something I had no hand in. Doesn't mean someone's dad isn't gonna bludgeon my head in the first chance he gets…" Harry muttered that last part as he rose to his feet.
"We appreciate your time Mr. Potter, and we at Gringotts look forward to doing further business with you." Bearclaw offered to him with a tooth grin.
Harry gave the two goblins a nod, guessing that both were quite pleased to know that they weren't going to lose a valuable client over these strange events. He was about to leave when a curious thought struck him.
"You mentioned other discrepancies in my accounts, ones that you already knew the answer to?" Harry questioned curiously.
"Right of Conquest issues, that's all. Our records indicate that a number of protected lines had such issues come up over the summer. Our records indicate that two very small accounts have now been absorbed by your own due to Right of Conquest. As you may or may not know, Right of Conquest only initiates when an individual has conquered or overcome a significant amount of opposing assets. Namely if you were to fight against another family, you'd need to defeat a majority of them for Right of Conquest to activate. It's usually around sixty percent or so. Our records indicate that a large number of protect families were assailed by you, though only two have been claimed due to Right of Conquest for being so small. The others were just alerts that came to our attention due to protections put in place by those families to alert them if someone is assailing their family lines." Bearclaw explained to him.
"So these families would know that I was the one who killed their members?" Harry asked with a sinking feeling in his gut.
"No. As heir to House Black, you are protected by certain arrangements made by the Blacks to keep people from learning such information. These houses will know that someone has killed their members, and it was done righteously. As you might know, Right of Conquest only activates through righteous conquest. Meaning you can't just murder people to get their accounts, you have to engage in active combat with them on meaningful ground. So for example, a full grown man can fight a baby and take steps towards conquering that child's family. The child can't fight back or participate in meaningful combat, nor can they have done anything to warrant the act as anything other than murder. As much as they may argue it otherwise, by magical standards you did not murder anyone. But you did kill them, and the Blacks pay to keep such information a secret. Have no fear, we at Gringotts hold to any deal struck with Ironclad will and determination." Bearclaw informed him, earning a sigh of relief from Harry.
So by accident he had wiped out two family lines. If he needed at least sixty percent success in his endeavors that meant that some of the people he'd killed were the last of their lines. And in all of their cases, because they had tried to kill him, and in fact did kill him, his retaliatory killings were seen as righteous by magic itself. Even if the Wizengamot or Ministry would consider it differently, by magical standards, their deaths weren't murder.
It was also good to know he had such protections from the Goblins. So long as any killing was done righteously it would fall under such protections.
He left the office and was quickly joined by McGonagall. The two made light chat as they headed out of the bank, McGonagall offering only a minor inquiry into what the goblins wanted. Harry simply told her that they wanted to address some financial concerns as the Potter fortune was supposedly an old and major account or something like that. Most of it didn't make much sense to Harry, but the goblins seemed pleased with the discussion, so there was that.
The lie came to him so easily, and McGonagall bought it with no real reason not to. A part of him wondered if she'd report his reply to Dumbledore or if Dumbledore himself would question Harry about the trip. Suppose time would tell on that particular note.
Harry returned to Hogwarts and did his best to continue avoiding attention while he focused on training in his newfound powers, and learning to control certain abilities of his. It was relatively slow going for most of it, learning to control powers born from another creature's magic wasn't something that came easily to anybody, and Harry had to learn it all on his own.
A few days more went by with Harry drifting a bit to the wayside thanks to the presence of the students from the other two schools. Victor Krum earned a lot of attention from the boys and girls of Hogwarts, and that meant that Harry could be left alone.
He'd hardly slept at all since his conversation with Daphne and Tracey, and the rather intimate dream that had followed. He still didn't feel tired, despite having gone nearly a week without sleep. He was starting to truly believe that he no longer needed it, that led him to wonder what exactly had been added to his body that attributed the lack of a need to sleep?
His current theory was the vampire blood. That made sense to him. Vampires didn't sleep at night, and the stories about them sleeping during the day were just made up since vampires didn't come out during the day. In truth they just hid in the darkness and waited for nightfall, they didn't actually go to sleep, or sleep in coffins.
It seemed like the most reasonable answer.
Thankfully Harry was able to avoid any more confrontations with the Slytherins or Snape, and make it to the day of the drawing for the Triwizard Tournament. He sat besides Hermione while the drawing began.
From Beauxbatons, a girl, Fleur Delacour. Harry perked up when he heard her name, and watched as the Veela rose to her feet, and was guided to the back. He'd noticed her stealing a glance or two at him over the last couple of days but she hadn't approached him, which he was more than fine with. Tracey and Daphne seemed to believe him when he told them that he wasn't the one to place the brands, and that he'd had no hand in them receiving the marks either. He had no idea how this girl from another school would react, he suspected not well, all things considered. For now, he simply appreciated the distance as it kept this headache from getting any worse.
The next champion was Victor Krum from Durmstrang. No surprise there, considering he was their Headmaster's favored pupil, it made sense for them to try and flaunt their superstar.
Finally from Hogwarts, it was a Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory. Harry clapped politely for the Hogwarts champion, as did most students. Cedric was reasonably popular, and Harry knew him well enough from playing against him during Quidditch. He seemed like a reasonable bloke, and he'd probably make a good champion to represent Hogwarts.
Cedric was guided out of the room after Krum and Fleur, and Dumbledore began to make further announcements.
It was as he was speaking that the Triwizard cup began to sputter and react, as if it was preparing to choose another name.
Harry watched it's movements and his gut began to sink.
"No, no, no, no, no-" Harry began to panic as a slip of paper burst out of the goblet and flew into the air.
Dumbledore caught it and read the name, causing Harry's blood to run cold.
"Harry potter…" Dumbledore muttered in disbelief.
In an instant Harry's gaze shot towards the ground. He knew immediately who had to be responsible. Moody, it had to be Moody. It was always the DADA professor who caused problems. Even with Remus as their instructor, he still followed the trend of nearly getting Harry killed.
He knew that it had to be Moody, it just fit so perfectly in line with the pattern. The only question was why? Getting him killed seemed like a reasonable answer.
"Harry… go!" Hermione pushed him when she noticed Dumbledore staring at him.
Harry rose to his feet, his gaze still locked on the floor. Slowly he raised it as he began walking.
Voices began to rise around him, students from Hogwarts voicing their incredulity or displeasure.
And things were going so well for him too. This tournament was gearing up to take all eyes off of him for the year and allow Harry to sort out his own problems. He made it to Dumbledore, sharing a hard look with the old headmaster. Dumbledore than handed him the slip of paper that had Harry's name on it.
Harry took it, and began heading towards where the other champions had been led.
More voices echoed in the hall as a scandal exploded before everyone's eyes. The teachers watched him with critical gazes. Harry allowed his eye to pass over all of them, lingering just a moment longer on Moody before McGonagall guided him into the back where the other champions were.
Harry was led inside, and he numbly stepped into the room. His mind currently awhirl with all of Voldemort's knowledge of the Triwizard tournament. What it entailed, the kinds of tasks used in the past, the level of danger he'd have to face. People got killed in this tournament. He had almost no doubt that, that was the reason behind him being entered into it.
"What is it? Do zey need us back out zere?" Came the question from Fleur Delacour.
For a brief moment, Harry's emerald eye flickered towards her. She blinked at him, and almost seemed to recognize the anger that blazed within his gaze.
Harry's face began to contort into a sneer as the other two champions noticed him as well. He lowered his gaze to the slip of paper he held clutched in his hand. His eye's lingered on it just long enough to note that it held his name, written in his own handwriting, no doubt torn from one of the assignments he'd turned in for schoolwork.
"Harry?" Cedric inquired curiously.
Harry didn't react to him, instead clicking his teeth together a few times. He felt his anger building, felt his rage filling him up. He wanted to storm back into the Great Hall and tear Moody apart. He knew it was him, he knew it had to be him.
Harry's breathing began to quicken and he started to pace, circling himself as his anger continued to grow.
Finally, he felt his rage reach a boiling point and with a snarl he slammed his fist into a stone pillar as hard as he could.
Fleur let out a gasp, while both Cedric and Krum felt their jaws fall open.
The stone had cracked under the force of Harry's strike.
Harry felt pain lance through his hand and up his arm.
He grit his teeth in anger, and annoyance as blood began to drip out of his knuckles.
Harry took a step back and looked at his left hand. It was still completely covered but he was now bleeding through his glove and it felt like he'd broken a knuckle or two.
His eyes lifted to where his fist had impacted the stone pillar. Blood marked where the blow had landed. The stone was cracked. A spider web of cracks splintered out from the point of impact and small chunks had already fallen free from the pillar.
A punch hard enough to crack stone, if only he knew how to throw a punch correctly, maybe he could have avoided breaking his fingers. At the moment Harry didn't realize the significance of the damage. His mind didn't recognize that small fact that Voldemort had known. Hogwarts was warded and runed to resist damage. It's walls and foundations were designed to reduce the effect of incoming harm. Spells that would normally blow down entire walls, instead only damaged small chunks of stone. Harry had managed to hit the pillar hard enough to crack the stone, that alone was a testament to his newfound strength, however when one considered that stone was several magnitudes more resistant to damage than normal stone, they'd realize that his strength was far greater than even that.
Before anyone could say anything, shouting began to drift in from the hallway.
Soon a storm of faculty came rushing in, led by Dumbledore.
"Harry, listen to me, did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, did you ask one of the older students to do it for you?" Dumbledore asked with a focused look, taking Harry by shoulders.
"You know the answer to that sir. Of course not!" Harry growled in response.
"Well of course he is lying!" Madame Maxine spat with thinly veiled contempt.
"Madame, what is going on?" Fleur inquired to her headmistress.
"As marvelous as it may seem, young mister Potter here has been chosen as a fourth champion!" Came the word of a Ministry representative, Ludo Bagman.
"Him? But he is too leetle!" Fleur countered, shaking her head at that, her eyes flickering from Ludo to Maxine before landing on Harry.
He'd caught her statement, and normally would have shown his offense at being called little, but right now he was far too angry to dwell on such a childish matter.
"I vas unaware that Hogwarts vas allowed a second champion. Perhaps Durmstrang should host the tournament next time to be offered such a boon." Karkaroff spoke with a sneer.
"Barty, surely there must be something we can do?" Dumbledore questioned another Ministry employee, the man in charge of overseeing the tournament, Bartemius Crouch Sr.
"The rules of the Tournament are absolute. Having his name be chosen constitutes a binding magical contract. Mr. Potter has no choice but to compete. He is, as of now, a Triwizard Champion." Crouch responded causing all eyes to turn to Harry, most of them carrying a great deal of judgment and scrutiny.
"A binding magical contract… how in hell is this even possible?" Harry growled as he glared back at them all.
"Perhaps you should tell us, Mr. Potter." Snape responded in that ever so drawl tone of his.
"You first, Snape!" Harry's eye almost visibly lit up at the challenge as he turned a hateful glare towards the Potions Master, one that was eagerly returned.
"That is what we need to discover. Harry could not have entered himself due to the Age Line, and the Cup should have rejected a name given that was not the placers own." Dumbledore thought aloud.
"The Triwizard cup is an incredibly powerful magical object, only an equally powerful Confundus Charm, could have hoodwinked it. Potter's shown great skill in his classes this year, but I very much doubt a Seventh Year could have pulled it off, let alone a Fourth Year." Moody pointed out.
"You seemed to have given this a fair bit of thought, Mad-Eye." Karkaroff noted with an accusatory tone.
"It was once my job to think as Dark Wizards do Karkaroff, perhaps you remember." Moody challenged in return.
Harry listened to their argument, fighting with every ounce of his being to avoid turning his glare on Moody. He glanced around the room, looking for anything to focus on while the adults argued. His gaze landed on Fleur who was staring at him, worry and concern dancing in her eyes. He stared back at her, meeting her gaze with his own.
She stared back, blinking at him, gaining this look as if she was trying to understand something about him. A moment passed and she seemed to react with surprise as if a feeling suddenly washed over her. She grasped at her left forearm, and took in a breath.
He stared at her and she seemed to grow a bit uneasy at his look. In his mind's eye he saw the angel, beautiful, lovely, and able to drown out all of his worries with her presence.
This wasn't that angel though. This girl didn't have the power to enrapture his thoughts so he was able to pull his gaze away from her, as he heard his name mentioned again by the adults.
"The first task will take place on November twenty-second. Prepare yourselves, all of you. This task will test every ounce of your skills and abilities." Crouch said to them.
"I guess they gave up trying to find a way to get me out of this." Harry thought to himself, as he shook his head.
He let out a wince as he felt one of the bones in his hand audibly crack. The pain was sharp but lasted only an instant before it faded away. The pain in his hand was healing quite rapidly, it'd probably go away in no more than an hour.
The Champions were then dismissed, Harry now considered the Fourth Champion. He was shuffled along, his fate basically sealed due to the presence of a magical contract. He knew well enough that it was nearly impossible to be falsely entered into a magical contract, but the Goblet of Fire was an ancient and powerful relic. The magic inside only needed to determine if the name placed in the Goblet was truly given. Since it looked like the name had been torn from one of Harry's work sheets, that meant that it was. Than, as Moody had pointed out, a powerful Confundus charm could confuse the Goblet into thinking that Harry had put the name in himself.
Now he was bound by magical contract to compete in the tournament. In life or death tasks designed for students who were about to graduate school. Still that wasn't what had Harry worried, he had all of Voldemort's knowledge so he was confident he could come up with an answer to whatever tasks they came up with, no he was more so worried about the attempt on his life. The only reason he could think of for someone to enter him into this tournament was to try and get him killed. This will have been the fourth time that one of his school teachers had put him in such a dangerous situation.
The fact that he was forced to go along with it, despite the intent behind it, pissed him off to no end.
McGonagall silently led him back to the Gryffindor Common Room. She didn't say a word to him, but in her eyes he sensed disapproval, and in her mind he felt how dark her mood had become. He didn't immediately know if those feelings were directed at him, or the situation in general. He hoped it was the latter, because if it was the former, he was going to be even more pissed off.
He entered into the Common Room and was immediately accosted by his fellow Gryffindors. They demanded to know how he had done it, how he had circumvented Dumbledore's age line.
He told them that he hadn't and that he didn't put his name into the Goblet, but no one believed him.
A liar they had called him. A cheater, some whispered. The older kids especially, who actually wanted to take part in the Tournament, glared angrily at him as he made his way to his room.
No one spoke a word in his defense, or even offered up the possibility that he could be telling the truth. Hermione sat back, looking disappointed, and Ron, well Ron openly glared at him the entire time.
Harry could hardly believe it. With no evidence what-so-ever, they all had simply concluded that he had entered into the Tournament of his own volition. He especially couldn't believe that Ron and Hermione would think that he'd actually want to take part in this. They knew his history, they also knew what he'd been through over the summer. What kind of person would go through that kind of hell, just to choose to put themselves in danger at the first opportunity.
That night he got into a fight with Ron who angrily chastised him for not telling him how to enter his name into the Goblet as well. It clicked in his mind almost instantly, the source of Ron's anger. It wasn't that he thought that Harry had done it, that wasn't the source of his anger. He was jealous, jealous that Harry would be in the spotlight, jealous that people would be talking about him. Ron didn't care whether he entered or not, that was just a focal point, something to drive at. The true source of his anger was nothing more than childish jealousy.
No one had stood up for him. None of his housemates, none of his friends. He sat awake that night with nothing but his thoughts and his anger. Close to midnight, when everyone was asleep, Harry went to the Room of Requirement so that he could vent his anger. He stayed at it for hours, throwing spell after spell at training dummies, just imagining each one was that traitorous asshole Moody.
After finally tiring himself out he sat alone in the corner of the room and opened the Marauders Map. His gaze focused in on Alistair Moody, who was sitting in his room with Bartemius Crouch. It was nearly four in the morning, what were the two of them doing together at this time of day?
Harry blinked in surprise and shook his head. He glared hatefully at Moody's name for many long minutes allowing his frustration to grow. Finally he gave up, and began simply looking through the map, looking for anything that might interest him and take his attention away from his current predicament.
His eyes drifted lazily over the map for many long minutes until they came upon an interesting sight, a name that enraptured his attention.
"Luna Lovegood." Harry muttered, blinking in surprise.
He shot up, as excitement shot through him. A Lovegood, here? He should have known, should have considered that. At Gringotts he had been more focused on Olivia being branded as well as the ramifications of the bonds he was now forced to share with these five girls. He had momentarily noted the Lovegoods and how the girl he'd seen in his dreams, the girl who he knew to be Death, had to be the Lovegood, but it didn't immediately click that she would be at school with him.
He blinked several times and remembered how he had felt a familiar gaze watching him when he had first arrived at Hogwarts, and how he'd felt her presence a few times since the start of the year when things would grow heated. She was here, and she was watching him.
He closed his eyes and saw her clearly, saw Death staring back at him. A smile spread across his face and he quickly threw on the Cloak of Invisibility and darted out of the Room of Requirement.
He intended to find her. He needed to find her. She was his savior, his protector. She was there for him in that dark place. He needed to speak to her, to learn the truth behind her actions. Not for a second did fear touch his mind. Not for a moment did he stop to contemplate the fact that he was racing towards Death itself. He had no fear of her. Death, was an old friend at this point. So with eagerness and excitement he raced to her place on the map. The time had come to meet his savior and thank her for all that she'd done for him, and maybe, just maybe, he'd finally get some answers.
-To Be Continued-
So, we know that Harry is now the not-so-proud owner of at least five women, one of which is his sister. How were these marks placed, and by whom. Something much bigger is going on here, and it's time to find out what it is. As the story continues, I feel like I'm definitely leaning more into Warhammer fantasy/40k elements. In fact, I've got plans to see this go lots of places in the future, so let's see what happens in the following chapter.
