Be Selfish

Chapter 7

Wee flashback to earlier that day

"It's just an after-affect from the inoculations, you're just fine. Although, it seems you've gotten quite a few of the affects, hmm, drink this, the fever reducer will help ease the symptoms." Healer Smirnov helped Harry swallow the potion. "How would you rate your current pain threshold?" he'd asked him this before, 1-10 on the scale.

"Fifteen!" Harry bit out, jaw clenched, beads of sweat already swamping his damp brow. "I…I can't…it hurts…" it hurt too much to bear, he felt like his body was stone, so heavy and moving was just horrific and the heat, he felt like he was boiling from the inside out.

"Here we go, drink up," Healer Smirnov said, genuinely concerned. Harry was so stoic in the face of the constant pain he was in. He didn't complain, not that he considered what Harry did as complaining but it was as close to. "Now this to wash it down, keep yourself hydrated." Giving him over the straw so he could suck up the liquid and not end up drenched in it.

The healer moved to sit down after placing a cooling blanket across his patient's body. It would change when his body temperature changed from hot to cold etc. He reached for his book assuming Harry was asleep, when Harry began talking, causing him to startle, surprised.

"Why does it feel so peaceful?" Harry asked, his voice slightly slurred. Not enough to affect his speech too badly. Even if it were true, healers were well versed in all manner of speech, they'd heard it all really.

Smirnov smiled, "It's just the affects of the potions," he reassured Harry, claiming the book, fingers edging towards the bookmark and opening it to the page he'd been reading. He would get a few chapters done, before he begun to write more of the journal for Harry. The potions were all boxed in by morning, noon, evening, and of course the day. It would be weeks before he was off certain ones, he'd need to make it so that the Muggles couldn't see if it he was determined to go back there. It hurt that he couldn't stop him from going back, it was sheer lunacy. There was more to it, he just knew it but Harry never said.

They were running out of time to get answers as well. Antonin wasn't the only one vexed by Harry's secrecy.

"No, my magic…" Harry murmured, green eyes glazed but alert, staring at the healer. It was uncomfortable on his neck, just a little, so he didn't want to remain in that position long. He wanted to pat Harry reassuringly, but he didn't, Harry didn't react well to touch, not even by him.

"Your magic what?" Smirnov asked patiently, his book could wait.

"Calms," Harry said, licking his dry lips.

"Your magic calms…" Smirnov waited patiently for Harry to continue, curious despite himself.

"When he's there." Harry said, struggling to stay awake, to get an answer.

"He? Who he?" Smirnov straightened up, his entire attention now on Harry, wondering if he meant what he believed the boy to mean. A shiver ran down his back.

"Dolohov, he calms my magic." Harry said, with that Harry lost his fight with consciousness. The potions were potent, too strong for Harry to remain awake and aware for too long.

The book fell out of Smirnov's nerveless fingers, calms his magic, that…that was compatibility at the highest level. They weren't just magically compatible; they could be soul bound. They had been blessed by Mother magic, the last ones recorded so, was Merlin and Morgana themselves.

Standing up, leaving the book where it was on the floor, his stomach twisting uncomfortably about what he was going to do. However, if anyone could help Harry completely it was Antonin.

Hopefully this would be the thing that pushed Antonin into acting.

Into hopefully turning Harry neutral.

Unbeknown to them all, Harry was already well on his way of turning neutral.

End of wee flashback from earlier that day

Date - Injury - actions taken - spells used

31.10.81 - Backlash Killing Curse - Untreated - Avada Kedavra

31.10.81 – Laceration on face – laceration knitted – Necto

31.10.81 – shock - untreated

3.11.81 - Diaper rash – untreated

7.11.81 - Infection – Untreated

8.11.81 - Shock – untreated

31.7.82 - Dislocated shoulder - Untreated

31.7.82 – Broken wrist - Untreated

Antonin felt bile crawl up his throat, sick to his stomach at what he was reading. The dates, the thirty-first, it was his birthday, his second birthday, what two-year-old could possibly dislocate his shoulder and break his wrist? Which wasn't so dangerous or suspicious on its own accidents happen. However, this parchment filled with so many injuries could not be mistaken for anything other than abuse. Severe long term abuse.

Even if they had seemed like accidents the fact, they'd gone untreated revealed the stark horrifying truth.

There was no break in the abuse, the list was endless, all untreated. Injury after injury, and Antonin just sat there encased in a sense of disbelief. How could someone so injured? So, hurt actually want to protect Muggles?

Broken arm

Cracked ribs

Bruised kidneys

Lacerated liver

Infection

Three cracked ribs

Bruised stomach

Lacerations to the back

Infection

Cracked jaw

Bruised trachea

Black eyes

Broken nose

Fractured wrist

Broken elbow

Twisted arm

The list was endless, and it was only one year, three years in total of Harry's life. If he had been even slightly less powerful, he would have died. If he didn't know any better, he would suggest that was exactly what Dumbledore had been hoping for? To kill him? He nearly succeeded.

"Antonin? Are you feeling well?" Afon asked, the portrait exuding concern and love for the deeply affected wizard. "Antonin?"

The bigger wizard glanced up at the portrait, still looking green around the gills. Who wouldn't be when you were looking at such horrific abuse…he was a Death Eater, yes, but none of them, okay, most of them would never consider hurting a child, a defenceless two-year-old? He didn't even think Bellatrix was that merciless. "I'm fine," he lied through his teeth, and his grandfather knew it.

"Antonin, we are your family, we are here to offer aid and support if you need it." Afon explained patiently, he knew just how to deal with stubborn Dolohov men. Fondly thinking of his own husband and the chaos he'd be in without him. Silly stubborn men so they were. "Even if it is just until your chosen family return to good health."

Antonin rolled his eyes, "Wonderful attempt, not going to work, I know you too well." His lips twitching into a smile. He'd watched and emulated Afon as a child, out of everyone he'd admired his grandfather and mother the most.

Afon pouted, certainly not acting his age, as his eyes gleamed impishly. "Talk to me," his tone of voice becoming firm. Setting aside the teasing, which had successfully made Antonin smile. So, hopefully it meant that there wasn't something too dreadful on that parchment.

"The muggles abused him from the very moment they got him," Antonin murmured, "I mean dislocating his shoulder and breaking his wrist at two…" struggling to vocalise his displeasure.

Afon's face changed to desolate pain, the thought of any child in pain so horrified him. He'd heard some of what his husband went through, and it was horrific, at least it hadn't started quite so soon. Naturally only because the House-elves were still looking after them for the most part. "That poor boy."

"Filthy Muggles," Antonin hissed out, looking ready to hunt them down and kill them.

"They weren't the only ones to harm him," Afon pointed out, sombrely.

Antonin flinched, eyes smouldering with seething rage, before he slumped forward. "We don't hurt children." He said, as if he was repeating something he'd said to himself a million times. "He wasn't in his right mind." It wasn't what they did, what they'd planned.

"Wasn't? Is that to say he is now?" Afon pouncing on the wording with deadly accuracy.

"I cannot discuss it, saying as much as I did was risky enough." Antonin gave his grandfather a look, heavy with implication.

Afon narrowed his eyes speculatively, before backing off on that point, "From what I've heard a fully grown group of men went to the Department of Mysteries and did exactly that, hurt children."

Antonin stood, "How did you find out about that?" more perplexed than angry. There was no way, he hadn't brought any Daily Prophet newspapers here. He very much doubted Smirnov knew either. If anything, he felt a little bit of guilt wrangle in there. Mudblood or not, it had been a kid he'd accidentally hurt. He did wish that it had hit Tonks.

Sure, the newspaper had gone on about the Dark Lord's return. Also, about the duel, but nothing about who had been there for the initial confrontation. Nothing about Hogwarts students, which was rather vexing.

"I spoke to Harry," Afon explained simply.

Antonin blinked, "And he answered?" utterly astonished to hear that Harry actually spoke. The kid had nothing but suspicion of him, "And when was he awake to answer?" staring at the portrait feeling a little out of tune. This was his home; he should know everything that was happening or being done yet he felt like he was the last to know everything.

He was the Lord of the Manor damnit! Well, technically not Lord, no, Duke, his family had royal ties going back as far as his great-great-great-grandfather. His parents had been Duke and Duchess Dolohov, his father cared to the estate, while his mum helped those in need.

"Of course, he was awake, admittedly slightly groggy," Afon confessed innocently enough, which meant Harry hadn't told him coherently. He wasn't sure anyone (or many) had spoken very kindly to Harry in a very soft and soothing manner. He had felt a little guilty at his digging, but it was the only way he was really going to get answers. His boy was being entirely too stubborn. And Antonin was still his boy, regardless of how grown up he was now.

Antonin groaned, "Stop, or I'll remove the frame from the bedroom." He should have done so anyway, but it was good to know there was someone there to keep an eye out. Most magical families had at least one frame in all rooms (usually a blind spot to the bed) so that they couldn't see anything. Even wizardkind do not like to be watched during sex.

"No, you won't," Afon declared, knowing without a doubt that Antonin would never go against his wishes.

Antonin grimaced, not even needing to say anything, "I've been an adult for over forty years, how is it you can still make me feel like an errant teenager?" he groused.

"Oh, he's good at that, isn't he? Kept me feeling young," Anton declared, joining his husband in the portrait.

"Too much information," Antonin grumbled, suddenly glad (but mostly sad) that his parents weren't here to do the same to him.

"It was hardly any information, our lips are sealed," Anton stated, "Does that sound familiar?" chiding his grandson, unimpressed with his secrecy. One should never keep secrets from family, and at nearing seventy and still unmarried and without a child to keep the Dolohov line going (never mind the Romanov) two prestigious lines were going to end with him.

Antonin pinched the bridge of his nose, tiredness getting the better of him. He refused to use Dreamless Sleep Draught, or any kind of potion to get some rest. He'd sleep through the nightmares, he'd cope, and he would eventually get better. "I'm sorry," he admitted, "I am just…not used to it anymore."

"What, talking?" Anton queried, actually hitting the nail on the head without actually meaning it.

"Yes," Antonin revealed, "I've spent the past decade on my own, without company, locked up away from society. To suddenly be free, to do what I want, to be using magic again with a wand suited to me far better than my original…I am finding it overwhelming." The only thing he had to stop him going insane were the books he'd read over the years. He owed Lori – his House-elf – more than he could ever repay.

Anton's eyes softened in understanding; his husband was always so cheerful that it was exhausting watching him. Yet his enthusiasm never dimmed, he was quite though, but only when Anton was quiet and needed quietness with company. He always knew, no matter what, he always knew, and Anton loved Afon for it, more than anything else in this world.

"I can't seem to say the right thing, and I don't know if it's just me, but I seem to just piss off Potter or make him clam up as if someone placed the lockjaw curse on him." Antonin leaned back, vexed, "I've not really spoken much to the others, I think we'd all like to pretend it never happened."

"From what I understand it was more difficult for them," Afon said softly, "They'll require more time to heal, but they could use someone who understands too." Whether he liked the cause or not, they were Antonin's family now, friends and family were important. He couldn't hug him and tell him everything was going to be alright. He needed a companion, preferably a husband or wife. Someone to help him through this, someone with experience.

Just companionship to get used to people again, so that it didn't remain alien to him for too long.

"I know I had it easier, I know," Antonin stated gritting his teeth, "The entire time I was in Azkaban I dreamed of being free. Now that I am, it is not an easy transition as I would have liked. It's not wholly because I am still a wanted wizard." Not wholly but it had a lot to do with it. He couldn't even go to the shops, if he did, he'd cause a bloody scene. Glamours had never been his forte, and his figure was unmistakable, and he wasn't going to use human transfiguration on himself, it was painful, and could be rendered permanent if there was even one screw up.

"You need a mind healer." Afon said softly, "Someone to talk to, that has a heartbeat and can help."

"And you can get one here, so none of that rubbish about being wanted in England." Anton grunted, personally he didn't understand why either of them wanted to talk more than necessary or wanted company. No, that wasn't entirely true, he couldn't have lived without his husband. So, maybe he did understand just a little, even if he didn't entirely.

"Perhaps," Antonin murmured, rubbing his temples looking more like a wounded bear than a wizard with a headache. Inhaling sharply, he returned back to the information he was in the middle of reading. Information he'd really rather not be reading. It left him in a confounded mess, quite frankly it was taking everything not to rush into the guest room and shake the boy and demand answers, damnit.

Date - Injury - actions taken - spells used

16.10.88 - lacerations to head and neck - Metamorphamagus change - Healing magic

Antonin stared in surprise; this must have been the occasion Harry had referred to. He hadn't referred to in the bank. He broke through the bindings on his powers at, seven or eight years old. Not fully, but enough to change something about himself…the wounds though, he'd healed them with his own magic. He'd turned his natural healing ability inwardly. "Apparently a natural healer can turn their own healing abilities inwardly." He stated, "Does it prevent them from being able to naturally heal others?"

Anton contemplated the possibility, "It's comprehensible," a thoughtful look on his face, given the child's childhood and the abuse magic did a lot to ensure it's hosts survival. "However, it's not something I could possibly speculate on. Each wizard and witch are vastly different. He's powerful there is no denying that, his magic could have twisted to help him in dire straits."

"We cannot predict magic and its capabilities. It has come on in leaps and bounds since Hogwarts herself was built. Each branch that wizardkind has attempt to quash just emerges far more dangerous and stronger for it. It's such a shame your mother isn't here, she'd know exactly what to say, or do." Afon contemplated, "I do wonder if any of her books would be helpful or perhaps Healer Smirnov may know." Using his title out of respect for the wizard.

"Were any of her books saved?" Anton asked quietly, respectfully.

"Everything was kept," Antonin declared, her office held all her books on healing, they were a mix of English, Latin, Bulgarian and Russian. Likely a few other languages, his mother spoke many languages in the course of her helping those who need it most. She invested heavily, and used her own money to help those in need, she was beautiful, thoughtful and loving. She hadn't been born that way, which was perhaps what made her so happy and understanding with an eagerness to help others. "I doubt there are many on the way of a Natural healer." They had a very different way of dealing with things, and healing others with their magic, they were capable of things normal healers weren't.

People from all over the world would seek out natural healers, do anything, pay anything to just get a consultation with one, never mind actually being healed.

"This is true," Afon, "I do believe there was a natural healer in my line, you may find some books and journals in the Romanov vaults."

"That's right, wasn't it your great-great aunt? From your father's side? Remained unmarried?" Anton said, perking up, recalling the conversations he'd had with her. "She died when she was a hundred and twelve, her estate went to her niece and nephews she didn't have children and was quite vehement that she didn't regret it too despite everyone's attempts to change her mind."

"Oh, Auntie Oksana," Afon said with understanding, "I was very young when she passed, I had perhaps three or four pictures of her. Yes, there will definitely be books in her chests, she carried them with her whenever she went and wrote everything down in her journals. They'll be somewhere, I just have no clue whereabout. You'd need to visit her portrait."

"How do you know that if you didn't know her?" Antonin queried curiously. "Did she become the Head of the family?"

"Goodness, no, women are equal in theory but not practice, much like wizarding Britain," Afon grimaced a little, "Back then at least, no, her nephews became the head of the family, not that she suffered for it. She had her own money, and it doubled the estate's value when she passed." that was three generations ago now, four if Antonin was included.

"O.V.E.R are her initials, the goblins will retrieve them for you, likely for five galleons." Afon explained, "Although, it might be more prudent to see if the young heir is capable of outwardly healing or if his healing abilities has changed entirely to self-healing."

Antonin nodded, "Not sure if we'll have enough time, for any of that. It's been nearly a week; I will need to drop him home. I haven't even been able to discuss the war with him."

"The Dark Lord Voldemort killed his parents, yes?" Afon asked.

"Yes," Antonin said wryly, it was true.

"Attempted to kill him how many times?" Afon asked expectantly, honestly thinking it would be once and unprepared for the reality.

Antonin winced, clearing his throat, "Five to six times."

"I beg your pardon?" Anton gaped, "And this is the young heir you're trying to Parley with?" staring at his grandson as if he was utterly mad. He expected this young heir to what? Change sides as if nothing had happened?

"Antonin, can you see yourself doing the same thing? Say Albus Dumbledore has attempted to kill you seven times, would you go over and fight for that side as if nothing has happened?" Afon asked with sympathy, he knew his grandson meant well, but this wasn't something he could possibly

"I am hoping to convince him of turning neutral at least," Antonin confessed, deeply troubled, especially by what he had found out. He couldn't keep it from the wizard he had sworn his loyalty to, he reckoned Dumbledore definitely knew.

"Forgive me, Antonin, but what on earth are you thinking?" Afon asked perplexed.

"Following someone who hurts a kid six times or attempting to get him on our side?" Antonin sighed, tiredness weighing him down. He was just glad he had been able to keep his estate running efficiently from Azkaban. That way he wasn't entirely in over his head when it came to keeping the estate running while recovering.

"I'd love to know the why to both." Anton asked looking exactly like his grandson when he was confused.

"Dumbledore bound his magic, his talents, and left him to be abused." Antonin confessed, "While, yes, the Dark Lord targeted him, he isn't the one that took control over his estate, bound his magic, talents and let him be abused with Muggles."

"Is there proof?" Anton asked, glaring darkly at nothing in particular.

"Everything was done on the first of November, which was when he was supposed to be with Muggles." Antonin, "As for proof, I'm only figuring stuff out through third parties…this information was caught at Gringotts. I won't know more if Harry elects to do so. Considering how the rest of the week has gone, I'm remaining in doubt over this."

"Why not send the goblins to investigate? There will be wards up won't there be?" Anton questioned, mulling over everything they'd just learned.

Antonin gritted his teeth, "His so called 'watchers' haven't noticed that he's gone yet." How pathetic did you have to be to fail the one task you were set? "Goblins showing up would definitely cause some eyebrows to be raised and I'd rather not have them know we were even in parley, I'm not sure how Dumbledore would take it and I'm not going to make it any more difficult for the boy." He didn't feel pity, not really, he just…felt the need to protect, and it was not because of what he learned.

"They are very good at their job, believe me, I don't think the people watching over him, or supposedly so, would notice the goblins there." Afon told him, "They are more careful and invisible than House-elves when they need to be."

"And all this could be accomplished before he returns home?" Antonin asked dubiously, the goblins were good but were they that good? Could they guarantee him that they wouldn't be detected? He knew goblin magic and House-elf magic was different to wizarding magic but that was the extent of the information he'd delved into where it comes to different variations of magic.

"They could put a rush job on it, Antonin, the only thing they'd care about…" Anton said, but Antonin finished.

"The price." He deduced before his grandfather even finished.

"The price," he agreed.

Naturally they were all unaware that doing so was a wasted effort. For Harry was always already aware of Dumbledore's duplicity, or believed it at any rate. They weren't really going to be able to tell him something he didn't already know. The goblins at any rate…Antonin though did have an ace up his sleeve.

"Would he agree to an extraction of magic to find the culprit who bound his magic?" Afon questioned, "If I found out someone had done that to me…well, I wouldn't feel quite so forgiving. How is the poor boy taking this latest knock?"

"Extractions are painful, there's a reason they're so rarely used love," Anton shook his head, no, it was too awful to contemplate, and this was coming from a wizard who had endured a lot of pain in his lifetime. Same as Harry.

"They are, which is why I wouldn't be saying anything…but he blocked the boys magic, his talents, it could be why his healer gift twisted inward." Afon said, sympathetically. "Those magics were banned from being performed on children for a reason."

"What do you mean?" Antonin asked his grandfather cautiously.

"The first child they were performed on…turned into an obscurial." Afon said grimly. "Yes, this was why such practices were banned all those years ago. There are no exceptions made for this sort of magic, none at all, and if word got out that Dumbledore – if he did his own dirty work mind – had done so? None could save him, not even his nearest and dearest would stand by him."

Antonin inhaled sharply jerking back at the mere mention of such a thing.

"Now it wasn't known if the spells caused it, but when it happened to three people it was enough to ban the practices altogether. Binding someone's magic? there are no taboos that can match that in its depravity." Magic after all was everything to wizardkind. People like to think necromancy was the darkest of magic but the truth was, that would be what the other side would like you to believe.

"At the very least, let him leave here fully informed and prepared for anything," Afon said quietly, "The bindings need removed, and it will need to be in one of the most secure and magically shielded places possible. For the magic that will be unleashed will be very angry, viciously so and will last out at anything and anyone nearby."

Antonin nodded slowly in agreement, very well, he'd get in touch with the bank.

A/n – there we go! Another chapter gone hmm…will Antonin and Harry find out about their compatibility and that be the only way Harry's magic can be unbound so there is an excuse for them to meet up after parley? Or will they have told him enough that Harry turns the tables and begins his own parley? Either way may well yield fascinating results and either would reel the muses hmm definitely have to use one because I can't see any other muses working at this point in the story with Harry who is stubbornly refusing all aid :) this is going to be fun to decide R&R please