A/N: This one got two rehashed scenes from Emily's POV. I had to be very careful as there was a chance to spoil parts of the next chapter.
Chapter 3
Kill for You
"Tell me about our family, Harry."
It was a question he'd expected. No one knew Voldemort's history better than he did, and that history included Voldemort's family. Harry had more knowledge than anyone involving the Gaunt and Riddle line and he'd already crafted his own place in it.
"Not really much to say, Emily. Most of them are dead. My grandfather's brother is your grandfather, so we're second cousins. All my family is gone, my parents died a few years back. You still have an uncle, that I am sure of, but I think your grandfather passed away in Azkaban or soon after his release."
"What did he do?"
"Same thing most purebloods of that time period went to prison for. Abuse. If I recall, the records say he was beating his daughter, your mother, with a ministry official present. When the official tried to interfere... things got sticky. No one died, but both your uncle and grandfather had a short stint in Azkaban."
He heard the girl scoff derisively. "So, my grandfather was trash. Duly noted. And my uncle?"
Harry sighed; this was always a tricky story to tell. "Cousin Morfin's... not really all there, Emily. He was certainly not the violent man your grandfather was, per se, but, well, he had a mean streak. A lot like yours, really. And he was quite magically gifted. Of the force of six members of the DMLE and two aurors, your uncle held his own well. Your grandfather was incapacitated early on. Probably why your uncle spent three years in Azkaban while your grandfather only spent six months. But for a man with no Hogwarts education and a passed down wand, he was pretty damn good."
Looking at the woman walking along the beach beside him, he saw her smirk. "Clearly I must take after my uncle, then."
Harry gave a curt nod. "There are certainly similarities. Cousin Morfin had a big heart. He loved your mother dearly, even if it was hard for him to show it. He took great offense when your mother fell in love with a muggle, going so far as to terrorize the man many times. Probably why the ministry confronted your family in the first place, to be honest."
He watched as the young woman kicked white sand into the air and face the sea. "What can you tell me about my father?"
Harry sighed, even going so far to avoid the conversation. "Nothing you'd want to hear about, trust me."
She shot him a scathing look. "I'll be the judge of that. Tell me what you know."
"Alright, fine." So much for that. "Well, for one, his family's pretty well off. The Gaunt's wealth has been lost for over a century, so... your family looked like dirt in your father's eyes. I'm going to be frank with you Emily. Your mother raped your father. She put him under a love potion."
"And you told me that my father was bad. Sounds to me as though my mother was the muggle."
Harry shrugged. While he would agree with anyone that Merope did terrible things, that didn't change the fact that Tom Riddle was a scumbag. Being a rape victim didn't make him some sort of model citizen. "Your mother married your father and made the mistake of believing that the love he held for her was real, and not the result of the potion she'd been dosing him with for the better part of a year. So, she stopped giving it to him. He left as soon as he could."
"Naturally. No one would stay."
"Your mother had no one after that." Harry sighed. "She couldn't turn to her father; he'd disowned her after his release and her marriage. And cousin Morfin was still wasting away in Azkaban. I'd like to think he'd have helped her, but... it's hard to say. So, your mother decided to die."
Emily turned from the ocean again, perplexed. "What do you mean?"
"She had no will to live. You weren't enough to replace the love she had for her husband. So, she gave birth to you and died shortly after. If it's any consolation, she stuck it out long enough to make sure you made it. She gave you a shot."
Emily's laugh broke while she turned back to the sea. "Only to leave me alone. She should have just taken me with her."
Harry walked to Emily, but just as his hand neared her shoulder, he froze. He could not push it any further. Tightening his fingers into a fist, he made a pained hiss as he brought his arm back down to his side and simply stood with her, facing the ocean.
"Your mother was not a strong woman, Emily. She wasn't you. She was never able to walk on her own two feet. When you fall, you rise back up."
Emily scoffed at him. "You must be joking. I'm a mess, Harry. I was responsible for the death of someone, and you want to know what my first real thought was? How to get rid of the body. If it weren't for you showing up, I don't know what I would've done. My mind was all over the place, and each of those places were dark."
Harry nodded but doubted that she noticed. "But you wouldn't have given up. I bet at some point, you thought to yourself, 'This will not be the end for me.'"
Emily's laugh this time was a real one. "You know... I do, in fact, recall those very words running through my mind right before you made a noise." She turned to face him and smirked. "Perhaps I take after my cousin more than my uncle."
"Maybe you do." Harry gave her a smile. As he turned to continue their trek, Emily's voice stopped him.
"Nice try, by the way. But I haven't forgotten that I asked you to tell me about my father."
The noise Harry made was somewhere between a chuckle and a groan. Turning back to the girl, he leveled her a serious expression. "Emily, your father isn't a nice man, and sure as hell isn't a good man. Please, don't ask about him. I don't want you to even think of a person like him as your family."
"Is he alive?"
Harry's knee jerk reaction was to lie. To tell her the man had been dead for a long time, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. "He is."
Emily nodded her head twice. "Take me to him."
"Hell no."
"Yes. Now." Her tone brokered no argument.
"Not happening."
"Harry Gaunt, you will take me to my father right now, or else I'll... I'll..."
Harry lowered himself to her eye level, "Exactly, you won't do shit. I'd kick your ass if you tried." Harry made a solid attempt at forcing the conversation to a close by turning around and leaving but did not expect to be tackled from behind for a second time that day. Being planted face first in the sand wasn't pleasant either.
"Damnit, Harry. Don't I deserve to see my father? Even if he hates me, don't I have the right?"
Harry was struggling to pull his face out of the dune when Emily rolled him over, straddled him and shook him by the collar. "Don't I?!"
"For fuck's sake, Emily," Harry lost his temper with her. "He hates you. He hates me. He hates anything and everything that has to do with magic. No, you look at me." She'd tried to turn away.
"This isn't 'kill a student, gain a father' week, Emily. You go to see that man; you'd best be prepared to defend yourself. He will try and kill you. Is that what you want? You want to be strangled by your own father?" Almost subconsciously, Harry had brought up the method in which he'd killed her. His body started to shudder uncontrollably, but that didn't stop him from yelling.
"Why can't you just trust me, Emily? I can take you anywhere you want to go in the entire world, but I will not take you to that man."
She rolled herself off and him and began to storm away. Harry picked himself up and began to dust the sand off of himself, but before he'd made it past his trousers, he heard Emily scream.
Harry, at first, mistook the scream as one of distress and he drew his wand and began running before he realized that she was moving to him just as fast. Caught off guard, and completely baffled he just stared at her blankly right up until her fist landed on his cheek. Having taken the hit, Harry found himself being lifted off his feet and falling to the sand under him.
Emily did not waste the chance, immediately she fell on top of him again and tried to pummel his face. Harry took another two fists to the face before he finally retaliated. A wandless banishing charm sent her across the sandy dunes to land on her ass ten meters away from him.
The distance and the magic reminded Emily that she had a far more effective method of fighting, and she drew her wand as well. Harry was instantly on the defensive for two reasons. The first being that Emily always has been and always would be a ferocious fighter. She fired off several hexes and jinxes, summoned animals and even brought out the spell that had purple chains attempting to crush him in their grasp. Secondly, he still could not bring himself to hurt the girl. So, he bobbed, weaved and swatted spells away as he slowly made his way to her.
Emily had a tendency to rotate through a select few spells. Harry picked up on it pretty quickly. All of her hexes and jinxes were minor but would still take him out of the fight if one happened to land. Though most of her spells were nonverbal, Harry had gained a certain feel for her magic after so many duels with her older self. By looking at the color and vibrancy of the light, Harry judged whether a spell needed to be blocked or if he could move to the side. She would burn through her magic quickly at this rate, though Harry hoped things didn't get to that point.
Twice Emily attempted the Avis charm to set a flock of birds on him with the sound of a gunshot, and twice Harry barbecued them. Interspersed between the two conjurations were a few minor hexes but also a nasty bludgeoner. Had it managed to clip his shoulder, he would have been sent spinning in the air. It was a spell he made sure to deflect.
However, when she waved her want in a wide arc, Harry knew he was in trouble. He'd already known that Voldemort had this spell in her arsenal and had seen Emily use it earlier on the werewolves. Infernatena, the infernal chains charm. He'd never gotten the damn thing to work for him. Supposedly, these chains originated from the depths of hell, or at least, that was what the creator wanted people to think. They were powerful but could be broken with enough physical force. Harry, or any other human, for that matter, did not have the strength to break them. If they grazed you, they were mildly discomfortable, but if they bound you, you'd feel an intense burning sensation from them. The scar on his thigh throbbed painfully as a reminder to him what else they could do.
Harry had no other option but to jump to the side as the chains spewed forth from her wand tip. Twisting his body, he banished them away from him, knowing that Emily would sever her control over them. The chains could be moved according to the caster's will after the spell was cast, but to do so would take time and they were now too far away to be useful to her.
Over the course of their exchange Harry learned several things. For one, Voldemort had a knack of favoring her left side, and apparently, she'd been that way since childhood. Secondly, Emily's repertoire of lethal spells was abysmally small, that or she was actively not using them. The third thing he noticed was her smile. Fighting was something Emily loved to do, not just torturing. She liked to prove her strength. But the closer he got, the more her smile turned into a snarl.
In his past, the few times he'd managed to get within close quarters to Voldemort in a duel, she'd use something big against him and retreat to gain space to continue fighting. He was betting on this to happen now. Once he got within three meters of her, he juked left and sprinted towards her right side. Her first spell passed through air, as she struggled to keep her wand trained on him. Right as he was about to clamp his hand on her wrist, he found himself freezing, once again unable to touch her. His nearness also made her cease moving and the two stared at one another in an awkward silence.
"How can you move like that?" Her voice was low, and she was struggling to get enough air into her lungs. She was already exhausted. "You just slipped through my spells like water." She continued questioning him softly.
A part of him wanted to brag that he'd told her that he'd kick her ass, but he quickly suppressed it. "When you've been fighting as long as I have, you pick up a couple skills."
"Ugh, I hate this." She backed away from him. "Nothing about you makes any sense, Harry Gaunt. You claim to have gone to Hogwarts for six years, but that means you and I would've shared at least three years of schooling together. And yet, in those three years, I didn't see your face even once? I know I've never met you before."
Walking a few feet further, Emily sat down in the sand. "You just randomly appear in a bathroom moments after I killed someone, and you tell me that we're family. Which is something that no one would ever believe, but you know too damn much about me for it to be a lie. Where have you been all this time, Harry? Why did you leave me to rot in that orphanage?"
He shouldn't have been surprised that she noticed the little cracks in his story. It really was to be expected. But she wasn't done poking holes in his story.
"That room you took me to means you HAD to have gone to Hogwarts, but why don't I remember you. You had to have used that room for passage more than once in the past. And the whole fight with those wild werewolves. You were bitten, Harry. You know what that means, don't you? You know what's going to happen in two weeks to you, during the full moon? I want answers, but this time, I want answers about you. About the only family I have that's standing right in front of me."
What a hole he found himself in. But there was only one way to fix his crumbling web of lies.
More lies.
"Look Emily, I'm a couple years older than I look. In my sixth year, I watched you get sorted. I know that you got detention from Professor Dumbledore twice that year, both times for stealing something that didn't belong to you. I walked past you writing lines in his classroom once. Face it, Emily, we forget things when we're young."
He sat down a few feet from her and began drawing lines in the sand. In his time, Dumbledore had told him everything he knew about Emily Riddle, and now Harry was making use of the knowledge. "I made use of the room a lot when I was in Hogwarts. Mostly to fool around with a couple witches in Hogsmeade Village. Kids like me Emily, we're irresponsible. That's why I dropped out. And I couldn't have gone and plucked you out of that orphanage, I mean, come on. I couldn't even finish Hogwarts, much less take care of a young girl."
Emily stayed quiet but drew her knees up against her chest.
"I understand what you're going through Emily. That need to meet your family. Especially a parent. I get it. But your father's nothing more than a sperm donor to you. I wish he could be more, but I promise you he won't."
Harry sat with her in silence for several minutes before he heard her mutter something he didn't quite catch.
"What was that?"
"Anywhere." He didn't follow and continued to stare at her blankly.
"You said you'd take me anywhere in the world except to my father, right?" Harry begrudgingly nodded. He'd meant it metaphorically, but if she'd drop the father topic, he'd take her to the damned Panama Canal.
"Then I want to see my uncle." Harry sucked his teeth. Hard.
"Yeah, course you do." Breathing out a sigh that was almost a laugh, Harry pushed himself to his feet. "Well, come on. Daylight's burning. We're leaving for the continent tonight and we've got a few stops. We'll drop by Morfin's place before we leave. Sound good?"
She smiled up at him but turned back to the sea. "Can we stay a bit longer? This is the first time I've seen the ocean in years. I missed it."
He smiled back, "Sure." After a moment, he took note of how she was sitting. "You know, with your knees up like that, the entire ocean can probably see your underwear."
"Ugh!" He watched as she got up and dusted off her white dress. "Moment ruined, thanks Harry."
"I was just pointing out a fact."
She looked at him and Harry just knew he'd bitten off too much before she even opened her mouth. "Well, you were wrong. I'm not wearing any." And with that final bit, she began walking back to the boardwalk.
Harry could only look down at himself in disgust, recalling the time she'd straddled him today. "Fucking gross." He'd have to burn these robes.
When Emily decided that she would have to force the information about her father out of Harry, she did not realize that he would be a match for her. She'd been holding herself back out of respect and even a sliver of fear. But when he commented that not only could she not best him, that he would thoroughly kick her ass to boot, she couldn't help but take up the challenge.
Her initial plan had been to just physically shake him up. She was well aware that she tended to lose control when she dueled, and she knew Harry wasn't just some Hogwart's student. She'd have to exert at least a minimal amount of effort to fight him, and she was honestly scared that he might be fearful of her power. What if he thought of her as a weak girl who he could manage? Did that mean he'd run from her if she was beyond his control? It was a hard thing to contemplate, revealing your true self to someone else. But Harry made a promise, and he'd kept it thus far, even after seeing her darker side. And if he did make a run for it, Emily would find him and drag him back. It wouldn't be her first time tracking down one of her wayward playthings. Though, to her, Harry was far more important than any of her other toys. Harry was a person, and Emily was willing to dignify his existence by recognizing that fact. But no matter what happened, or what he wanted, she'd still never let him go.
Harry didn't seem to be threatened in the least when she bowled him over and shook him. He yelled back when she screamed in his face. No one had fought back against Emily in years, not really. Sure, some would try to protect themselves from her spells, but no one went out of their way to engage her. It angered her, but at the same time, she felt a sense of pride.
This was the audacity of a Gaunt. The strength of her family. Gaunts didn't submit to anyone, not even to each other. But as she began walking away from him, her sense of pride was quickly overtaken by her mounting anger. Did he really think that he was the one in control? Emily Riddle was not a woman who could be conquered.
Emily had honestly believed that when she resorted to violence that he'd succumb. With enough force, even a member of the Gaunt family could be cowed. But after landing a couple of punches on his face, he wandlessly banished her off of him. It took her by surprise. She'd never met another person with that kind of control. Dumbledore could most likely do it, but she'd never seen the deputy headmaster do anything but a couple tricks without a wand. Of course, it was possible that Harry's spell had been accidental, but Emily had a feeling that it wasn't. Drawing her wand, Emily resolved to teach her cousin his place. Below her.
She couldn't touch him, however. Emily threw out every non-lethal spell she knew at him, and even a couple that could kill. The way he moved through her magic was graceful, and Emily found herself transfixed on his motions. For the first time in her life, she had found beauty in something that wasn't the suffering of someone else. Even when she summoned her infernal chains to bind him, he calmly gave a small jump to the side and with the slightest flick under his arm, banished the spell away. It was almost as though he knew her every move as she made them.
Emily wouldn't deny that she found a good fight arousing, but she found that this fight in particular was unsatisfying in a way she couldn't put her finger on. The thrill was there, and her blood thrummed in her ears. Overall, however, it was still lacking. It was when Harry charged her that she understood why. Emily enjoyed the fighting and the dominating aspect of a brawl. They were the fulfilling aspects in fighting for her. But while Harry's movements were enticing to her, he didn't fire a single spell at her. It was clear that the person who was dominating this fight was the man that was now standing beside her. Emily knew she had to look ragged, her breathing was labored, and she was sweating so badly her eyes were stinging. But Harry didn't look as though he was tired at all, the only thing unkempt about him was his slightly wilder looking hair.
As she looked into his mesmerizing green eyes, she couldn't help but sigh. He really was too perfect. If there was anything Emily knew about perfection, it was that it didn't exist. Harry Gaunt, she was starting to think, didn't exist either.
"How can you move like that?" But Emily knew that she adored him all the more, fictional or not.
After a few short-ranged apparition practices, Harry decided that he felt comfortable enough taking Emily to Little Hangleton. He warned her that the long distance would make her extremely uncomfortable, but it would be over quickly. She nodded and grabbed onto his arm when she noticed his hesitation to grab hers.
No matter what time Harry had ever gone to Little Hangleton, it was a shit hole. The town had nothing to offer, and Harry made certain to apparate further out than normal. The last thing he needed was Emily hearing the name Riddle from one of the townsfolk. With them being the town's snobbish elites, he figured they were the only hot gossip most days.
"Follow me."
Emily followed him in silence, but Harry could sense the nervous energy flowing off of her. Harry honestly had no idea how Morfin would react to seeing his niece, but he wasn't too worried. Between him and Emily, a single person didn't pose much threat. The bigger problem was how was Harry going to convince Morfin that he was family. The Gaunt family tapestry would be useless to anyone. Marvolo Gaunt, Emily's grandfather, had long ago struck everyone's name from it, save for his own son.
As the two of them neared the rundown shack, Harry figured he'd bullshit his way through it. Worst case scenario, he did have a trump card. When the two made it to the door, he took a deep breath and looked at Emily.
"Remember, Morfin's not really all there Emily. If he attacks you, though, don't hold back. He can really hurt you if he sets his mind to it." At her nod, Harry raised his fist to the door and gave it a sharp series of raps.
"Morfin?! Morfin?! It's me, Harry. Open up."
Heavy footfalls could be heard from behind the door. Harry braced himself as the door opened.
"Who're you?"
Harry had never actually met Morfin Gaunt in person. He had seen the man in other's memories, though. The appearance was no different now than it was at other times. Morfin was still cross eyed, with matted hair, missing teeth and a dirty face. The only thing Harry noticed to be different was the Gaunt family signet ring being on his finger. In his other times seeing the man, the ring had been stolen by Voldemort prior to his viewing.
"It's me, Morfin. Cousin Harry. I've brought someone who wanted to meet you." At this moment, Harry motioned towards Emily. The recognition came to him fast. "You're Merope's girl, aren't you?"
Harry watched as Emily smiled and nodded almost emphatically. "I am, Uncle Morfin."
Morfin looked confused for a moment, looking at the two of them, before giving a slow nod himself. "May as well come in, then."
Emily and Harry followed the slow moving Morfin to the shack's inner room. The entire home was covered from floor to ceiling with dirt and grime. Harry doubted that even a snitch could find a clean spot to rest on. The filth did nothing to deter Emily, though, because as soon as Morfin sat himself in front of the rickety wooden table Emily sat herself across from him and launched into a tirade of questions.
It was easy to see that Morfin was overwhelmed by her. When she did give the man a moment to answer her questions, he answered only her most recently asked one. Emily eventually had to give up and match his pace. Harry was shocked at how well everything seemed to be going, until Emily began branching out.
"So, when did you first meet Cousin Harry, Uncle Morfin?"
The question made his blood freeze as Morfin slowly turned his head to Harry and stared him down. Harry was frantically thinking how he'd dig himself out this one before Morfin answered.
"Long time ago. He's much bigger now."
Harry lunged at the lifeline that was presented. "Yeah, I was a little thing back then, hadn't even started Hogwarts yet." Morfin nodded to him, and Harry smiled. He had actually managed to bullshit his way through this one.
As Harry watched the two speak, he saw Morfin gradually loosen up. The man even laughed a few times and the easy-going smile that had settled on his face made his normal garish features much less bizarre. Even with the missing teeth.
Once an hour had passed, Harry noticed it was getting dark. He had originally planned to leave in less than another hour. Deciding to push it off a bit longer, Harry stood up. This caused a pause in Emily and Morfin's conversation as both looked to him.
"I'm going to head into town and get some food, would either of you like me to bring back something?"
Emily had asked for a bowl of tomato and hamburger soup, but Morfin declined. Telling Emily he'd be back soon, he left to find the nearest tavern.
It was about half a mile down the road and into town when Harry spotted one. Harry walked inside and left the humid June air behind him. Once inside, Harry ordered a sandwich and a slice of treacle tart and sat down at the bar. When his food was delivered, he decided to take his time with his food. Polishing off the rather dry sandwich he made to start on the equally dry looking tart when a voice interrupted his meal.
"Hey, you!"
Harry ignored the shout, assuming that whatever quarrel that had erupted behind him didn't involve him. The fist that slammed down onto the counter, however, corrected his misconception.
The first thing Harry noticed about the man was the smell. Whoever this person one, Harry could tell that the man had a powerful and deep relationship with a bottle.
"Oy, I'm talking to you, you fuckwit."
Harry sighed and pushed his plate away from him. Looking at his guest caused him to give a double take. Black as night hair streaked with grey, soft brown eyes, and a strong jaw. The resemblance was uncanny. There was no question in Harry's mind that this foul-smelling man was the father of Emily Riddle.
Tom Riddle clearly did not have his life in order. The man had allowed his facial to go far beyond wild and his once fashionable shirt sported several stains. The man was on a binger, and it had been going on for at least a couple days.
"May I help you, sir?"
The man laughed, and with a smile he replied, "Yeah, you can waltz your little freak ass out of my town. You think you can just come in here with those silly clothes, waving about your silly little stick, and expect me not to throw you out on your ass? Get the hell out of here."
Apparently, Harry had been recognized by his cloak, but he wondered if Tom accused a lot of regular muggles of being magical. If Harry didn't know the man in detail, he might have had some sympathy for Tom Riddle. After all, spending a year of his life mindlessly enslaved to a woman who he'd have normally detested was bound to leave some sort of mark. As it was, Harry was distinctly aware of the merit that made up the man that was Tom Riddle, and he was less than pleased to be accosted by him. It was also clear that the man's bravado was inspired with a bit of liquid courage, so Harry pondered whether he should set the man straight or let his behavior slide.
Tom's loud voice should've attracted far more eyes, but with absolutely no one paying the man any attention, Harry assumed that Tom did these sorts of things often enough. In fact, there were a couple patrons who actively turned their gaze away from him. In the end, however, Harry was a good sport. Placing a hand on the swaying man's shoulder he offered Tom a benign smile.
"I'll do just that, Tom. But I did promise to pick up a meal for my lady companion. I'll order it now, and once it arrives, I'll leave, and you and I never have to cross paths again. Sound good?"
The man, who had been doing his best to look intimidating, shrank down a bit with Harry's use of his name. "How do you know who I am?"
At this innocuous question, Harry couldn't resist having a bit of fun. He really did despise people like Tom Riddle. Making a showing of cleaning his fingernails, Harry spoke, nonchalantly, "Oh, everyone knows about you Tom. And your ex-wife. And your daughter."
When the man's face paled and he stumbled backwards, Harry reached forwards and steadied the man with a firm grip on his arm. Harry tightened his grip like a vice, however and Tom grunted in pain.
"She's looking for you, you know."
As if he couldn't even feel Harry's fingers pressing into his arm, he asked, "Who?"
"Your daughter."
The man sneer and tried to wrench himself away from Harry, but Harry released him, and the man fell to the floor. This did not stop him from spitting back, "I have no daughter. That thing is nothing more than a freak. Spawn of her whore of a m-"
This time, when Harry grabbed the man, it was by the jaw. It was only luck that spared the man from biting his own tongue as his mouth closed with a snap. Harry knelt down next to the man and whispered softly, "No one calls a child a freak in front of me, Tom. I'd like to remind you that, as you mentioned, I have a 'silly little stick' of my own, and I wouldn't mind showing you a couple tricks I can do with it."
The man stared at Harry, and it was clear to see that all of his nerve had evaporated. He weakly shook his head, clearly now wanting nothing more than to be as far away from Harry as possible.
"I'm a forgiving guy, Tom. So why don't you head home. After all, I've seen your daughter nearby, and you really don't want to meet her. She won't be nearly as kind as I have been."
When Harry released the man, Tom lurched upwards in a drunk stumble, racing out of the bar. Harry ordered Emily's soup and asked for a loaf of bread as well. Morfin looked pretty haggard, and Harry figured the guy didn't get much in the way of food. A nice, fresh loaf of bread might not be much, but Harry didn't feel the need to go out of his way, either. He just wanted it to seem as though he really was a kind, caring, but distant cousin.
As Harry began making his way back the Gaunt home, he pondered on his run in with Emily's father. The term freak had always gotten under Harry's skin. This was naturally caused by Harry's upbringing, the Dursleys were not a loving family to Harry. It was two months before Harry started public education that he learned his name was actually Harry, and not, as his uncle had constantly called him, Freak. Petunia, being a far more reserved person than her husband, mostly just stuck to calling him Boy.
So, his reaction to Tom Riddle didn't necessarily surprise him, per se, but the violent emotions behind his actions caught him off guard. Harry really wanted to hurt the man. While Harry was known for the occasional outburst, few people would call him violent or angry. Shelving his random outburst to the back of his mind for later thought, Harry questioned Tom's departure. A part of Harry wondered if he should have even let the man leave without a good memory charm wiping the magical world from his brain but resolved that to be a bad idea. While Harry could perform a basic memory charm, it was really only effective on recent and surface memories. It took an expert to wipe something like a yearlong non-consensual tryst that happened almost two decades prior.
As Harry arrived at the Gaunt's extremely humble home, he judged the time to be near ten at night. He really wanted to portkey them to the continent soon, as by now, the ministry and its various authorities would be look for Emily. Fortunately, as long as Dumbledore pulled through for him, all the ministry would have would be suspicions and no facts. About to knock on the door, Harry noticed a shadowy figure standing again the wall only a few feet away.
"Emily?" It was her figure, or at least, it certainly wasn't Morfin's. "What are you doing out here? It's pretty cold, you know."
She looked to him, and Harry was unnerved to see her face so guarded. She looked the same as when he'd first arrived in this time period. For a moment, Harry wondered if Morfin had outed him in the end, he tried to surreptitiously reach for his wand. This was a bad idea.
"I don't think so." With a flick of her wrist, Harry's wand shot away from him before he could grab it, and in his wild flailing, he dropped the food he'd brought.
"Damnit, Emily. That was your soup. And the loaf of bread for Morfin." Even as he complained about the spoiled food, his brain was processing his situation as fast as possible.
Her wand was trained directly on him, but Harry didn't bother raising his hands in surrender. Even without a wand, he wasn't particularly defenseless, but more importantly, he didn't want to seem submissive to Emily. Doing so would only make her bolder.
"Morfin assures me, Harry, that both of his first cousins were childless. So, I'd like for you to explain to me again, just how you and I are family."
Harry put on his best frustrated face and wiped his hand over his face with a loud groan. "Are you serious right now. Emily, we've been over this, cousin Morfin's not all there anymore. He's a good guy, but he's... he struggles with things. Have I, at any time, acted against your best interests? I'm looking out for you, aren't I? Why would you doubt me? Hell, what proof do you even have that Morfin's your uncle? If you doubt me about my identity, why even listen to who I say you are?"
"Morfin could actually prove we were related."
"Fucking how?" Harry's exasperation notched his voice up an octave.
"He has Slytherin's locket. And as I am the heir of Slytherin, I know we are from the same line. He also told me where inside Hogwarts the Chamber of Secrets was hidden. Damn it, Harry. Just give me something." Harry noticed when her voice broke, and he finally got a better look at her under the eave of the house. Her face had gone from completely guarded to distraught. "Anything. I'll take anything. I just need the smallest bit of proof from you. Surely you have something to represent who you are as a member of the House of Gaunt."
He had nothing to give to her, nothing physical anyway. "Emily, I already told you, I'm irresponsible. I don't have anything like that. Even if I did take something like that with me, I'd have lost it long ago."
Emily sniffed and shook her head. "You're lying to me, Harry. Who are you, and why did you save me? Why are you helping me, and where did you plan on trying to take me?"
Harry was slowly being pushed into a corner, and he didn't like it. If he couldn't convince Emily with lies, then he'd have to pull out his trump card. But Harry hated that piece of him, and never resorted to using it except in the most dire situations. However, Emily's next spell made him change his tune.
"Avada Kedavra." Throwing himself to the side at the surprise curse, Harry scrambled to get his footing.
She was out to kill, and he had to stop her before he could reason with her. Voldemort despised betrayal over all other things, and it was no surprise that it was a loathing that she developed at a young age. Though he had spent the majority of his life dodging this woman's killing curse, feeling the spell brush past him by mere inches still made his hair stand on end.
Resolving to use the same strategy that he'd employed earlier today to take her down Harry once again started weaving through her spells. It was far more difficult this time, he lacked a wand to bat them away. He could take the chance to summon his wand, but to do so, he'd have to remain in one spot to catch it. She'd never allow him the chance.
Emily surprised him, though. This time, she didn't let him start closing the space, every step he made towards her was a step she backed away. And as all she had to do was take a step, he was limited by his erratic movements and couldn't close the gap.
"Fuck it." Harry bolted to the side of the house, silently wondering why Morfin wasn't out here helping his niece. Finally having some real cover, Harry began to focus. Doing a lot of magic without a wand was fairly simple, it just required more concentration and more power. Harry knew this spell would drain him heavily so he couldn't afford to miss the opportunity. Lowering his head, Harry stuck his head out of his hiding place, taking note of Emily's location and ducking her blasting hex.
Taking a deep breath, Harry spun in place and with a crack was behind Emily. Spreading his arms wide to grab her and restrain her so he could talk some sense into her, he once again found himself frozen, inches away from her body.
Damn it. Why now, why does my body keep doing this? Emily, hearing the crack, turned around and instead of firing off a spell, tackled him to the ground.
Planting her knee painfully into his chest, she looked at him almost longingly. As though she really didn't wish to kill him. "Goodbye, Harry."
Figuring that it was now or never, Harry revealed his ace in the hole. "Stop being so dramatic, Emily."
This statement, was of course, spoken in perfect parseltongue. Which was an almost exclusive trait of Slytherin and his heirs, the Gaunts.
Emily froze, the killing curse dying on her lips. She stared at him, almost shocked, before she broke out into a smile and pulled him into a fierce hug.
"I was right, I knew it was a lie. I knew he was lying, every word. I was right. I was right." Harry listened to her muttering, and she squeezed him with all of her might. She didn't stop either, and Harry was almost worried that she was having another break down. She let him go and he took a step back to put a bit of distance between them as she summoned his wand.
Handing it to him, she asked, "We're going, right?"
"Er, yeah, I guess. But shouldn't we talk ab-"
Emily shook her head. "No. I'm sorry I attacked you. Uncle Morfin got into my head, and I was so angry. I shouldn't have done that to you. I will always trust you first from now on, Harry." When Emily smiled at him, Harry found his mouth drying. It was times like this when he was made painfully aware that Emily was still just a young girl, despite being almost of age in the magical world.
Harry nodded and with one last look at the Gaunt home, he and Emily apparated away. Had he been paying more attention to the details in front of him, things could have been very different. He failed to notice the new ring that adorned Emily's finger. Nor did he notice the silver locket chain that poked from her pocket. If he'd spared the windows of the home a better glance, he might have seen the blood that obstructed a person's view. And if he'd gone in to say goodbye to dear cousin Morfin, he wouldn't find him. All he would have found were the pieces that an enraged Emily had torn her uncle into when he told her of Harry's lies.
Emily siphoned the blood off of her blouse, feeling so incredibly weak after the intense magical exertion. With the newest member of her family now deceased, she felt a pang of loss. Not strong enough to make her regret her actions. Though seeing as she only killed him a moment ago, there was a chance for that to sink in later. But no, Morfin needed to die. He was an obstacle, like most people were. More importantly, however, was the man's insistence that Harry Gaunt did not exist. Emily was almost ashamed to believe this so readily, but it made sense, in a realistic sort of way.
When Harry first appeared, she held him at wand point. The thought of killing him was certainly one of the many thoughts that were running through her head at the time. So of course, he'd look to save his skin and lie to her. But that didn't explain why he'd agreed to run off with her. Didn't explain how he recognized her family ties or why he'd brought her here only for her uncle to expose him. Moreover, she couldn't understand why he wanted to protect her so much. But it explained his awkwardness. Why he was so apprehensive about touching her and sometimes didn't seem to care about her feelings. But it still left her completely oblivious to his motives.
His motives were explainable if his words to her were true, but Morfin shot down all of her hopes. He spoke at length about his heritage to Slytherin, the heirlooms that had been passed down and the secrets they'd been entrusted with. When he'd shown Emily the pitiful remains of the family tapestry, he was clearly coherent and lucid as he told her she was being lied to. He'd assured her that Marvolo Gaunt had only disowned his brother, Harry's grandfather's line, when he'd struck out her mother's name. Leaving Morfin the only Gaunt left of the main line. Meaning, that so long as Harry was at least a year older than her, his name would appear on the tapestry under his supposed father.
When her uncle had offered her a way out from Harry, she'd felt the inexplicable urge to laugh in his face. Morfin could never comprehend who Harry was to her. She couldn't understand it herself. She'd only known him for one day, but the ties that bound them, or at least her to him, were unshakable. She couldn't imagine any alternative to being right next to him as they went forward. There was something between the two of them that superceded even the familial connection she had to Morfin.
Deep down, Emily wanted nothing more for her uncle to have been the liar. If Harry wasn't her family, then he could abandon her at any moment. Add into the fact that he 'could kick her ass' and she wouldn't even be able to keep him with her by force. Not like the others. The insecure feeling invaded her very bones and made her nauseous. She would do anything necessary to keep him by her side. Even if she had to resort to some of her uncle's suggestions.
Emily knew she'd been foolish to accept the words of a complete stranger that they were related. But at the time, she'd been extremely vulnerable. And Harry had offered to be her rock. Once she'd calmed down, and looked at the situation rationally, none of his claims made any sense and there was honestly no real proof that the two were related. Emily made her way to the entrance of the home. She'd wait for Harry, outside. If he could prove his story, then she'd never question him again. She'd take all of her doubts and bury them deep into her soul. No matter the actual truth, she'd put her faith in him. If the lies came to light, then she'd forgive him, and they'd start over. No matter how their next encounter went, she'd make certain that they would be in a better place when it ended.
Emily knew it was possible for things to get physical. Rather, she knew that they would come to blows. If Harry had lied so carefully to her, it surely meant he had secrets he wanted to protect. She knew that she'd have to force the truth from his lips, even if she had to threaten his life. Which was really the only way she stood a chance against him in the first place. She couldn't play around with him like she had on the beach. She'd have to go all out. Regardless of who Harry was, he was still her Harry. And she was never going to let him go. If that meant she had to kill her uncle, or even if it meant wiping out half the continent, then those sacrifices would be necessary.
As Emily saw his slim figure approach in the distance, she found a strange sense of comfort in one small fact. "At least this means I never thought of my cousin as cute. Silver lining, Emily. Silver lining." The comfort quickly turned to dread as her thoughts ran amok. "You murdered your uncle, for this. There's no turning back. You've made your decision." Taking a few more deep breaths, Emily did her best to steel her nerves as he turned into the yard.
"Emily?"