Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots, and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
Acknowledgements: Thank you to my editor Athena Hope, as well as my betas 3CP, Fezzik, Luq707, Raven0900, Regress, Thanos, and Yoshi89 for their work on this story.
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Harry Potter and the Conjoining of Paragons
By ACI100
Chapter 28: The Ultimatum
April 17, 1943
The Chamber of Secrets
11:24 PM
The last twenty-four hours felt like a distorted blur that moved past Harry's eyes too fast to track. He remembered walking back towards the common room with Riddle, but even then, his thoughts had been murky. Sleep had not helped in clearing his mind.
Dreams had plagued him — dreams of a dark hooded figure reminiscent of the time Harry had seen Quirrell in the Forbidden Forest. The figure had stooped over a fallen victim and Harry had tried to move forward, but something pinned him in place and forced him to watch as the figure began to drink the victim's blood. When the figure looked up it was not Quirrell at all, but Abraxas Malfoy, a red smear covering his lips as he smiled at Harry and raised his wand, bathing Harry's world in vivid green light as high, cold laughter rang all around him.
Harry did little for most of the day. He told himself that he was exploring the castle, but really, he was wandering aimlessly in the hope that his mind might finally finish processing everything it had learned last night.
Riddle really did seem to be innocent. There was no definitive proof despite what she said, but every sign pointed clearly towards Abraxas. It was too early to say for sure, but for now, he would focus on Abraxas.
Harry shivered. He would have felt calmer if the culprit had been using Cerastes. Harry was grateful the basilisk appeared not to have betrayed him and a weight had lifted from his shoulders, but at least that would have been something Harry could openly confront. Abraxas Malfoy sneaking quietly around the school and subjecting victims to torture and poison was a more difficult opponent to face.
Part of him wondered why he felt inclined to help at all. This was not his fight. He had been dead set on stopping Riddle's plans, but these strikes appeared not to be of her design. They were also non-lethal so long as no one prematurely woke the victims, so in a way, it was less pressing than the attacks had been during Harry's own time.
Perhaps it was because he felt responsible. If Harry hadn't intervened, Riddle would have opened the Chamber of Secrets. That would have been a problem all of its own, but it would have spared the school from this. Guess I've still got some Gryffindor in me.
Other than his duelling session earlier that day with Charlus, Harry had felt adrift ever since leaving the hospital wing. That time with Charlus had been nice, but it had only made things more complicated. For the first time since arriving back in the past, Harry felt himself drifting along without purpose. It was probably the most unsettling thing he'd felt in the past eight months.
Earlier that evening…
That night had been the single most competitive duelling session Harry and Charlus had ever had. Harry had gone in with low expectations given how clouded his mind felt, but in a way, it had been good for him. His reactions were sharp, and when he relied on them, everything flowed naturally.
They had duelled six times and split the rounds three apiece. A ray of vibrant sunlight seemed to pierce the clouds surrounding Harry's mind, giving him a moment of pride-filled clarity. This was the first time Harry had ever matched Charlus consistently during a single night of practice.
"I don't know how the hell you do it," Charlus said with a shake of his head.
"Do what?" asked Harry.
"Get so much better so fast. It's like I'm duelling a new partner every week and, every week, it gets harder. I've never seen anything like it."
"I wish I had the answer," Harry said, running a hand through his hair. "I could probably improve even faster if I did."
"Mate, if you improved any faster, you'd be conscripted by the ministry."
Harry frowned. "Is that actually something they can do?"
"No, but that kind of kills the joke."
Harry smiled. "And I don't know how you do that."
"Do what?"
"Joke about the war like it's nothing. After, you know…"
"My mum?"
"And your dad. He's still out there fighting, isn't he?"
Charlus nodded, a far away look in his eyes. "It's easier to laugh. I learned pretty quick that I don't like the other options."
"Then maybe you learn just as fast as me after all."
Harry's parents had been gone for years and laughing about it was still not something he could do. It was a different kind of strength, he thought. Someday soon, he might become a better duellist than Charlus, but in this way, he thought the Potter heir would always be stronger.
"It's different, I guess. I imagine that sort of thing comes down to your upbringing. My mum was always good about things like that, especially once the war started up. I was pretty young when it all started and it got rough here in England for a while. This was before her and my father went overseas to help."
"My parents were never much for joking."
His father had actually seemed lighthearted the one time they'd spoken, but it was difficult to tell for sure. The Durslesys had not been, and those were the only relatives who had impacted his upbringing.
Not for the first time, Harry contemplated what it would take to ensure Vernon and Petunia Dursley never found each other. It would be easy. Tracking down Vernon's parents sounded simple, and after that…
Harry cleared his mind. He had thought about the Dursleys and wiping them from existence before, but when had he actively begun fantasizing about it? Maybe Cerastes was rubbing off on him more than he'd realized, or perhaps his fallout with Dorea had turned him into a cynic.
"I'll corrupt you one day," Charlus said with a slight smile.
"Maybe," Harry said, doubting it but smiling back all the same. "Care to educate me first?"
"Educate you about what?"
"Potions."
Charlus actually laughed. "You're coming to the wrong bloke. It's a miracle I even got into Slughorn's NEWT-level Potions class."
"I don't need help brewing them. I just need someone who knows about ingredients. I figured with the whole hair-care potion thing the Potters have going on, you might know a thing or two."
Charlus shrugged. "I'm not sure I'll know anything, but you can ask."
"How hard would it be to get ingredients for the Draught of Living Death?"
Charlus's eyes widened. "What the hell do you want those for?"
"I don't."
"Then why—"
"It has to do with a theory of mine about the attacks. I'm not ready to say more than that yet. Just trust me on this one."
"Hard," Charlus said after a long moment. "Expensive as hell, too."
"I read somewhere that a lot of the ingredients are used in healing potions. Is it true that getting a hold of those is harder right now with the war going on?"
"I'm not sure, but that would make sense. Any time Dad talked about the last war, he mentioned shortages and things like that. I reckon you could still get them, but you'd probably have to pay an arm and a leg if you wanted them any time soon."
Harry nodded. In a way, it was good news — it meant that Riddle might actually have been telling him the truth — but it still sent shivers up his spine. Any time Harry thought this year was incapable of surprising him further, something new lunged at him from the shadows and reared its ugly head.
Back in the present…
Harry grimaced at the memory. Never had he imagined someone being honest would make him more uncomfortable than if they had been lying.
He forced those thoughts down and turned towards the stone statue looming high above the chamber, its long shadow reaching across the floor.
"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four."
The massive jaw unhinged as the sound of Cerastes slithering free filled Harry's ears. His eyes were tightly shut like usual, but over the months he had grown adept at judging where Cerastes was.
"Why is it that any time you come, you seem so troubled?"
That drew a smile from Harry, though the expression lacked any real humour. "Probably because anywhere I go these days, I'm usually troubled."
"What has the usurper done this time?"
"Decided to be honest." Harry shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. "I think she has, anyway."
"Should that not make you less troubled? Why is it you humans make so little sense?"
"I wonder the same thing sometimes."
"That wasn't the important question."
"I know, but it was the easy one." Harry thought for a moment, pondering the very thing that had puzzled him all day. "There have been… attacks on students."
"Attacks?" The hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up. Cerastes sounded almost excited. Sometimes, Harry forgot just how bloodthirsty the basilisk was.
"On students, yes."
"You've said nothing of these before."
Harry hesitated. "They started recently," he lied, hoping the Occlumency he'd learned from Riddle's journal would help him conceal his true thoughts when speaking Parseltongue.
Harry somehow thought Cerastes was unconvinced, but he didn't press. "And they have something to do with the usurper?"
"I thought so, but now, I don't. She's apparently been investigating and showed me what she's discovered last night. It was convincing and not really something that can be faked."
"Why does this trouble you more? You've made the usurper sound more intelligent and dangerous than most. Should it not be a relief she is innocent?"
"Probably, but I know her. I had guesses about how she was setting everything up and plans that might have stopped her." Harry ran a hand through his hair, making an even greater mess of it. "It feels like everything I know just got flipped upside down. It's frustrating. This whole year, I feel like I've been working against the usurper, but now… I don't know. It's like I don't have a purpose."
Cerastes remained quiet for a moment. "I do not understand this purpose. What is it you want?"
"Want?"
"Yes, want. What is it you want to do?"
That was actually a daunting question. All Harry had considered since landing in the past was Riddle. If Riddle wasn't responsible for the attacks, that could mean she really was walking a different path.
That was when Harry realized what was putting him so ill at ease. Perhaps his plans had been uprooted. If this meant Riddle was different enough as not to become Voldemort… Harry did not know what that meant for him.
"To stop the attacks." Despite his focus on Riddle, most of his plans for this year had boiled down to that.
"Do you know who is responsible for the attacks?"
"Yes."
"I could kill them."
Harry sighed. "My answer hasn't changed."
"Then formulate a better idea. Purpose sounds foolish. Do what it is you desire."
That sounded too simple to be effective, but Harry found himself nodding along. He would need to rethink Riddle and what her changes could mean for him, but in the meantime, there could be some benefit to breaking things down like Cerastes suggested.
It was a good idea, Harry decided. Merlin, lots had changed this year. I never thought I'd start judging ideas by how snake-like they are.
April 18, 1943
The Slytherin Common Room
8:58 PM
Students poured back into the Slytherin common room for the first time in more than a week. The noise was jarring to Harry after so much time spent alone or in scarce company. Elena was somewhere among the herd of bodies, as was Dorea, but Harry's eyes searched not for his friends, but his enemy.
It was easy enough picking Abraxas Malfoy out from the crowd. His head loomed above most others' and his pale hair was brighter than almost everything else in the dimly-lit common room. His eyes remained on Nott, with whom he was sharing a conversation. They did not cut towards Riddle once.
Riddle herself had been seated beside Harry as they awaited the others' return, but now she was standing and greeting the other members of her group.
Elena slipped quietly by her. Harry saw Riddle's eyes flick towards her, but she let her pass.
Elena slid gracefully into the seat beside Harry, who turned to engage her in conversation before noticing that something felt off. Elena looked tenser than usual.
Harry opened his mouth to quietly ask what was going on, but he felt something brush up against his hand. It took a great effort not to look down, but Harry trusted his instincts and unfolded his fist. His fingers closed around a piece of parchment as he nodded minutely.
His pulse quickened. This message could only be one thing.
He scanned the common room but saw no sign of Arcturus Black. His pulse grew fiercer still. If he's too worried to be around when the note is passed, then this might be harder than I thought.
April 24, 1943
The Forbidden Forest
6:58 AM
Sneaking out of the castle had once been easy, but those days had died when Harry's invisibility cloak was left behind. It was certainly easier than it had been a few months ago now that Harry's Disillusionment Charm was coming along, but it could still be tricky.
The snow had melted weeks ago, but the grass beneath Harry's feet was still coated in a thin layer of frost, the air heavy with a thick fog. That works nicely for me. If anyone looked out a window, it would be much more difficult to spot him moving across the grounds and towards the Black Forest on their edge.
Harry felt his companion before he saw him. The fog had not relented by the time he reached the forest's edge and he could hardly see ten feet in front of him. Still he could feel a change in the air; an odd density he had come to associate with spells meant to ward or obscure things from others.
"You first," Harry muttered, coming up just feet short of where he thought the older boy stood.
If Arcturus was surprised, he didn't show it, instead lifting his own enchantment and shimmering into view. Harry let his own spell fall and the two boys stared at each other, emerald green eyes locked with their stormy grey counterparts.
"How long have you known the Disillusionment Charm?" Black asked, still not removing his eyes from Harry.
"A while now."
"That's impressive magic for a fourth year."
"Impressive enough for you to lift your orders off of Dorea?"
Black frowned. "Straight to the point, I see. I can respect that."
"You know that all you're doing is hurting her, right? You remember how Marianna looked that night in the common room? Do you not think Dorea felt the same way?"
"If I didn't, this meeting wouldn't be happening, and it will end if you try and guilt trip me again."
"I'm not trying to do anything. I'm asking because it doesn't make sense to me. Dorea always spoke highly of you. Now I realize she must have been wrong, so I'm trying to work out what kind of man I'm dealing with."
This was a risky approach, but he felt it was right. Everything he had heard about Arcturus indicated a pragmatic worry surrounding Riddle. If Harry wanted to win him over, he would need to convince the boy that Riddle was someone he could handle. That would not be accomplished by lying down and begging for terms.
"You're bold, Pavonis, I'll give you that. I don't know many people who would come at me the way you have."
"I'm not most people."
"No, you're not. If you were, I would have ignored you."
Harry raised a challenging eyebrow. "I thought you just said the only reason this meeting was happening was because of Dorea."
Black snorted. "Clever. This meeting wouldn't happen if you were average and it wouldn't happen if Dorea wasn't as bothered as she was. I wish she would get over herself, but here we are."
"Why do you wish she would get over herself? It sounds like you don't care about her, but then you say that this meeting is because of her. None of it makes sense."
"Take a guess."
Harry frowned. "You're worried that Riddle might try and use her after Hogwarts."
"Close. Dorea is willful, but I'm worried that Riddle will force her hand. She'll put Dorea in some kind of situation that makes refusing whatever she's planned impossible."
"And you don't think Dorea could avoid something like that?"
"Against most people? Sure. Against Riddle? I have my doubts. All it would take is an Imperius Curse, and Dorea will never be half the witch Riddle is. Better in some ways, but not with magic."
He could understand where Arcturus was coming from. His mind, too, often concocted the worst imaginable outcomes for situations involving Riddle.
"What if I told you I could stop that from happening?"
Arcturus locked eyes with him again. "And what if I asked how the hell you plan to do that?"
"I can match Riddle. You've seen me do it before."
"I saw you defend your mind against wandless Legilimency, that's not the same thing. I have no way of knowing whether you would have been able to do it if she was using a wand, and even if you could, the Mind Arts are just one small piece of the puzzle."
"Have you not noticed that she treats me differently than the others? She never gives me orders and I have my space when I want it. She never once bothered Dorea when she was with me." Harry raised an eyebrow again, challenging Arcturus to deny it. "Why do you think that is, Black?"
Black dipped his head. "There is definitely something about you and I'm sure Riddle realizes it. She could be wary because of how unknown you are; none of what you said necessarily means anything."
It had been a slim hope, but he wished Arcturus would have accepted that at face value. The problem was that Harry really didn't have much to work with.
"So what? You came all the way out here just to dismiss any arguments so you could keep making your sister's life hell?"
Black's expression hardened. "I wouldn't have come out here just to listen to arguments one way or the other. Merlin knows there are more appealing things to be doing."
"Then why did you come?"
"To make an ultimatum."
Harry felt heat rise up in his cheeks. He had effectively been played. Black had forced him to show his hand despite never planning to consider it, and just for him to dictate the terms anyway. Merlin, politics were infuriating — Slughorn could keep every last bit of them.
"What sort of ultimatum?"
"I need you to prove that you can handle Riddle. I don't think you're her intellectual equal and there isn't any way to prove it. I'll settle for her magical equal or better for now."
Harry felt a bubble of dread well up in the pit of his stomach. "And how do I prove that we're magical equals?"
Arcturus watched Harry very closely. "I think Merrythought has you two set to duel next month…"
Author's Endnote:
I am currently on vacation and the editing for this was very rushed. You have my sincerest apologies if the chapter came out rough. The next one will be edited in a similar fashion, then I will be home to more clinically reconstruct prose.
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