A/N - Welcome to Part Lion, Part Snake. Here are the warnings - this fic is "Mature" for a reason. Expect violence, gore, murder, general evil doings and while this isn't a smut fic, there will be a number of explicit lemons. Hogwarts begins at 14 years of age. Please R&R
Chapter 1 - Resolutions
Highland winds buffeted his face, but he didn't care, even as the air stung his already watering eyes, tears he hadn't even noticed were falling as he stared into space. He looked across the black lake, though he was taking no real notice of his surroundings. He was past caring what was happening right now, he could barely even think…well if you could call repeated flashbacks for days and an utter feeling of hopelessness and humiliation, thinking.
"Kill the spare." He heard as if it was coming from right next to him.
Cedric's lifeless body, his face staring, empty when he hit the floor in front of him, flashed in his mind.
The utter feeling of powerlessness as he was forced to bow to someone who had taken everything from him.
The view of the murderer of his parents from different angles as his body jerked involuntarily on the floor from the white-hot pain of the torture curse.
The scream of Amos Diggory as he realised his son was dead.
Harry was afraid. Although he of course had feared Voldemort's return and had known that it was inevitable, he'd hoped he'd have a few more years left to train or something. Now he was left with fear, he didn't stand a chance. Fear for himself, fear for his friends, and more that, fear that he would fail the wizarding world.
Let's be honest, he'd known from the beginning, from that first day in the Leaky Cauldron that it was going to come down to him or Voldemort. This was only reinforced by what had happened in the last three years, the death of Quirrell by his mere touch, the defeat of Riddle in the Chamber, and of course learning about the betrayal of his parents to Voldemort by that rat, Pettigrew. No matter how he looked at it. Voldemort saw his existence as an insult, even though it was likely his own mother, not Harry, who had defeated him all those years ago.
There was no feeling he hated worse than feeling weak, ever since Harry-hunting had been a Dudley pastime. Voldemort, though, had done more than that. He had toyed with him, tortured him, and truly outclassed him. It was only a stroke of luck, the brother wand's that had saved his life. He'd escaped by the skin of his teeth and everyone knew that he would be the Dark Lord's number one target. He was alone, and by the looks in the eyes of Ron and Hermione, those true looks of pity, they understood how Harry felt perfectly. He was small, he was weak, he was done for.
The stress of that night had sent his senses into overdrive ever since that night, clear PTSD, fight-or-flight, as Hermione had reasoned, he'd been getting these strange bouts of disassociation ever since that night. As Harry felt the presence of someone walking behind him he stopped staring into space and looked again across the lake, he didn't move. He could barely think, no, he didn't want to.
"Harry mate, we've been looking everywhere for you."
It was Neville, Harry recognised the voice speaking loudly, almost shouting over the whistling wind, but didn't look around at him. Snapping out of it, seeing that pitying look in his friend's eyes would be too painful.
"I'm fine, Neville," Harry replied at the same volume, there was no way they would hear each other otherwise. It didn't matter though, he only wanted to be left alone.
"And Lavender just cornered me in the common room and said she wanted to make sweet, sweet love to me."
It took a second to register, but…"God damn It Neville!", Harry thought as the joke dragged him tooth and nail out of his funk and he turned his head to face his friend by his side with a reluctant snort of mirth. One thing he had noticed over the years was that no matter what Neville was always able to bring him around from really shit times with a laugh. Harry wondered who'd taught him to do that.
"Oh really?" Harry replied, "And what did you tell her?"
"Oh that she couldn't handle me, of course, and then I went to come and find you."
"I'm alright."
"Bollocks." Neville replied, looking him dead in the eyes, the wind making his tie flutter behind his shoulder in the wind, "I've seen that look, my Uncle Algie has it from time to time. You're just so far away, almost as far away as my parents."
"You've never told me about them."
"I don't tell anyone about them."
Neither spoke, well, shouted for a beat.
"Okay," Harry replied.
"Why are you out here? Trying to get blown away? At least it's not too cold."
More silence. Did Neville know? Harry almost couldn't bear the faces of the people around him anymore. Their looks of fear, their disbelief, the pity, the dwindling hope, the whispering wherever he went. Only one week was left until the end of school but everything was different. Finally… he responded.
"I can't do it, Neville, and they can all see it." He said.
A hand touched his shoulder.
"You can Harry, you aren't on your own, we can help you feel better."
"That's not what I mean… Voldemort. I'm going to have to defeat him, or he's going to kill me."
"You don't know that."
Harry turned to look his friend in his eyes now. He was fed up with Ron and Hermione refusing to admit the reality, refusing to accept that things were going to be different.
"I do, and so do you. You know what's happened, I told you everything. And I'm weak, Neville, he just…He just toyed with me. I was nothing to him."
Now it was Neville's turn to be silent.
"For now."
"For now? For now?" Harry replied, "There's no way I could ever match him!"
"Why not?" Neville replied. Harry had no choice but to roll his eyes at the ridiculousness of that question.
"Come off it."
"You come off it," Neville said. "You're clearly the one destined to fight him, so clearly, that means you will find a way where you could possibly beat him. You've faced him four times now, and each time you've defied him."
Harry stopped. He hadn't thought about it that way. Did he have a chance? Surely not.
"You know Hermione would have your hide if you told her you put any stock in Divination," he said, smirking.
"There's divination and there's fate," Neville replied, seriously.
"Hmpph" Harry replied. Neville had a point, but that just presented more problems, now, thinking allowed, he continued: "But how long will it take, you know he will target me, my friends. I'll have no one. In fact…"
A horrible epiphany.
"I think it wouldn't be safe for you to be friends with me anymore. I guess I'm destined to be alone. I…I can't ask my friends to put themselves in danger for me."
"Ha, like they'll give you a choice, Harry," Neville replied resolutely. "And I'm not going anywhere, I promise. I know what it's like to feel alone."
"I know, we weren't all great to you in first year. I'm sorry."
"Thanks, but…that's not what I mean. Look… you aren't the only one who grew up without parents."
"You said they were far away, do they work abroad? I know you live with your Grab,"
"No, they aren't far away, well, not in the sense you mean…"
Neville took a second and then came to a decision. "Look, in the last war we were visited… by Death Eaters, so I'm told. Two Death Eaters, Barty Crouch Junior and Bellatrix Lestrange used Crucio to torture them until they…well... they're alive but… they aren't. Most of the time they're rarely even there anymore. They spend all their time in a hospital. Occasionally they recognise each other, but that's about it. They can barely move, can't wash, or feed themselves. It's why I have to live with my Gran, but...she and my Uncle already had their own work, and when she took over as Caretaker Head of House in my father's stead she also had to take on the business my mum set up as well. She's had to be so busy that the only real person I spoke to for most of my life was our house elf Nipsy, and Gran even took that away when she Nipsy was making me soft and not like my perfect father. The summer before Hogwarts I barely saw anyone at all, so I just… I know what it's like. Feeling alone. Not having parents… being made to feel weak."
More silence, well, as silent as the bustling wind and rustling trees of the Scottish highlands and grounds of Hogwarts could be. Part of Harry felt ashamed for not asking about Neville's parents earlier, but that was in the past now. It was nice, he admitted to himself that someone else may be feeling or have felt at least a little of what he was feeling.
"Thanks, Neville," Harry said, quieter now, if Neville hadn't been standing so close and watching him so intently might not have read his lips, but he couldn't tell what Harry was thinking. Neville was right, he wasn't alone, and his friends would fight for him. Hadn't Dumbledore said that was what his mother died for, what Voldemort can't understand? Love?
And now the Dark Lord had risen again. If there was a chance…maybe…with the love of his friends…he might be able to make it so no one would ever suffer like they had from Voldemort's power again. But then, what if his friends got hurt too?... no, he would not allow it. At that moment, he made a vow to himself.
No one can die for me. I will never be beaten again.
"Anytime Harry." Neville smiled back at him, bringing the Boy Who Lived back to reality, "Your mum was my Godmum, you know, and there's been an ongoing alliance between Houses Potter and Longbottom since 1487. I couldn't not stick by you even if I didn't think you're a great bloke."
"While I have no idea about the House stuff, I'm grateful you're with me, even if it kinda sounds like you're forced to," Harry said, matching Neville's expression.
"You don't?" said Neville, really surprised, "But you're Head of House Potter, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, how has no one taught you?"
"Taught me what?"
"Your heritage!" Neville said, almost exasperated. "Look, let's get back up to the castle, you're looking for knowledge and power. I've got a book that might be a start."
They started a gradual walk, continuing their conversation.
"So this sacred twenty-eight, that's the Wizengamot, right? I know it's a lot to do with purebloods and noble families, like the Malfoys and Bones. I heard Susan talking about house business, I've seen some stuff about House Alliances in the Prophet, and we've discussed notable families in History of Magic, but I'll be honest Binn's has been super boring. Everyone else seems to be so private in talking about it."
"It's just something that has come on over time in Gryffindor, really. If you haven't noticed there's a disproportionate amount of children in Gryffindor who are muggleborns. A lot of them are completely oblivious and they don't follow a lot of what we call the old ways and there are quite a few old traditions that children born in the muggle world would frown on. Take Hermione for example, she doesn't understand the relationship between House Elves and Family Magics at all. Over the years in our house and a little in the others, bar Slytherin, a lot of traditions have been shunned. Years ago, we didn't celebrate Halloween, for example, but Samm-hein. For muggles it's just a spooky, fun holiday, to dress up and have sweet treats, they don't take it seriously, but those raised in the old ways observe the holiday for what it is - a time when the summer has completely ended and the darkness of winter begins. On that night, the veil between our world and the plane of the afterlife is at its thinnest. Pureblood's light fires to connect with our ancestors, in the olden days of necromancy, we would even sacrifice goats in blood rituals for the chance to gain the chance for ancestors to speak through us and deliver prophecy. Can you imagine people like Hermione going along with things like that?
"Ha, no way." Harry said, "That does sound interesting though, and I don't see why people should be forced to stop long-standing traditions just because some people don't like them. It's not like they were killing goats for no reason, were they?"
"I'm not sure, I completely agree," Neville replied, "Or rather, in this case the current opinion of the "light" side thinks the rituals should be completely outlawed, killing goats is still murder."
"But what if I did it and I could speak to my mum, and she told me how to defeat Voldemort?"
"Therein lies the argument, Harry, traditions are there for a reason, but I'd be careful who you'd share these opinions with for now. As of yet your political stance is assumed to be purely for "the light", you're allegedly Dumbledore's man, through and through. Best to keep your cards close to your chest. Politics is about biding your time, playing your cards close to your chest while you plan, and then following through. It's why there are so many houses in the Wizengamot in Slytherin, they've learned the cunning needed over time."
"Hmm, I don't know whether I'm all that fond of Dumbledore, right now," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders as they crossed a long bridge to the courtyard.
"Yeah, I get it, he did nothing to stop Crouch from serving you up to Voldemort, but he's vouching for you right now, maybe keep quiet about how you feel about him, except to those you trust."
"Thanks, Neville."
"What are allies for?" Neville replied as they got to a door that would lead them into a side hall off the Grand Staircase.
Daphne Greengrass gave a hard sigh of exasperation at the hubbub that was going on in the Slytherin common room. There she was, sitting at a desk by the window, trying and failing to concentrate on the last bit of potions homework Snape had set before the end of term. It was a report on a project she was to write over the summer, research on lunar-harvested magical plants and their effects on the brewing of class -two tinctures and unctions. She ran her fingers through her cascading, honey-coloured hair in frustration, this was a tricky subject and the endless bravado of Draco Malfoy and undivided attention from his sycophants both interrupted her concentration and made her feel sick. What's more, her sister Astoria was one of them, hanging onto his every word.
"So it's true then, the Dark Lord has returned?" a simpering Pansy asked, clutching his arm possessively and giving a snide look at Daphne's sister, who was twirling her short, curly hair between her fingers and stood swaying, cross-legged on the spot, far too close to the Malfoy heir for Daphne's liking.
"I find myself unable to confirm or deny it, rather, my father has asked me not to. However, I will confirm that… recent developments indicate that jumped up Saint Potter's famous defeat may not have been as permanent as we'd been led to believe." Draco finished with a satisfied smirk.
Jesus Christ, Daphne thought to herself, Draco was as subtle as a punch to the face. It was surely his reckless ambition, not cunning that had gotten him invited into the house of the snakes. She knew that it was that ambition that Astoria was attracted to, not to mention the fact that Astoria was the only girl many had ever seen Draco be kind towards. They had a weird relationship and when they were together she seemed to lessen his most bigoted tendencies.
Both Daphne and her sister had been raised as purebloods but only in terms of understanding and maintaining both their family's and the wizarding world's traditions, but in no way did her family subscribe to any of that blood purity nonsense. Anyone with a brain could see that muggleborns were in no way lesser and it was the stance of their family, even though they did outwardly show concern at the decline in the old ways. Daphne's best friend Tracey was a half-blood, and Daphne had fought tooth and nail to ensure that even in their own house her friend was respected.
Astoria was clearly in love with Draco. She had told Daphne herself. She'd even told her that she thought she could change him, turn him away from the poisonous ideals of her father. Daphne thought Draco was just putting on a less bigoted view to please Astoria, but her sister was having none of it, to her it'd been working as well, but in the last months, that effect had diminished after Astoria had spurned his advances. If only Draco knew her reasons for doing so, if only he knew that Astoria would never live to see her seventeenth birthday, things might've been different. The rejection hadn't been her sister's choice, but their father's. Not only would Astoria's fraternising with the son of a member of a dark faction affect his carefully maintained neutral standing in the Wizengamot, but the Greengrasses knew that a marriage contract could never be accepted by family magic. Since the curse on her family years before they were all born, the second-born witch would always die young, never able to continue the bloodline.
Daphne remembered the day her father told her about the curse, the tears that streamed down his face, the memory of the day his second born was born a girl, a day that should have been filled with happiness had turned to despair. Since that day Daphne had resolved to change things, to cure the curse. As of yet, her efforts had been for nought. She'd tried to cure her multiple times but had been banned by her father. One of Daphne's biggest fears was that her father had been right, she'd not only been unable to stop the curse but had sped up its effects.
"You're so knowledgeable Draco, I'm sure you will continue to be so valuable to… your family's efforts. You will purify the wizarding world." Pansy said, continuing the conversation Daphne had missed some of while she'd been lost in thought.
"Don't be ridiculous Pansy," Astoria snarked patronisingly. She edged closer and kissed Draco gently on the cheek "Our Draco is a good man, he doesn't need to sully his honour by purifying anything."
"Like clearing the world of mudbloods would affect his honour. It would be more honourable, it would make him a real man." Pansy snapped, grabbing Draco by his other arm. He was clearly loving the attention.
"Pfft, everyone knows that a real man doesn't need to resort to violence to resolve his problems. Are you saying Draco isn't a real man, Pansy?." Astoria said gently as she took Draco's other arm.
Daphne was furious. Her father had told Astoria not to lead Draco on; and made her promise. Daphne would be in trouble as well if he found out that her sister had disobeyed, she was meant to be keeping an eye on her. She picked up her quill, inkpot, scroll and tome slipped them into her bag and walked straight over to the group.
"Astoria, sister," Daphne said, "We need to talk, I have received information on family matters from our father. It's urgent."
Astoria rolled her eyes and cuddled closer to Draco. "It can wait."
"Draco," Daphne asked, "What is more important than House matters?" Daphne knew what his answer would be before he even gave it.
"Nothing, of course," he responded, puffing out his chest with an air of superiority. He loved being the voice of authority.
"Fine," Astoria snapped with a stomp of her foot. "Let's go to your room."
Astoria marched angrily ahead of her sister through the corridor and into Daphne's bedroom. Daphne had only just shut the door behind them, triggering the silencing effect on all Slytherin rooms when:-
"Don't even start." Astoria said with a glare, hands on her hips "It's only a bit of fun. Besides, with the Dark Lord back, I don't want him to turn bad."
"He's already bad, Astoria," Daphne replied, waving her hands and turning towards a wall in frustration at the conversation that they'd had time and time again.
"No, he isn't! He's what his father made him." her sister replied, raising the volume.
"It doesn't matter regardless! Bad is still bad!"
"You just don't want me to be happy."
"Of course I do, you're my sister."
"No, you don't. I could be with him, just for a short while. I'm going to die Daphne. I just want a bit of fun."
"There's a bit of fun, and there's disobeying our father and making yourself look like a common slut. It's unbecoming of you and our house. It's embarrassing."
"Better a slut than a frigid bitch Ice Queen who pushes everyone away." Astoria snapped but froze her expression in shock when she saw the hurt in her sister's face and she realised what she'd just said to her. Wow, Astoria hated herself now, she knew the real reason why Daphne was called the Ice Queen. It was hard being the most beautiful girl in their year and the potential trophy wife of every single Slytherin male who made an effort to get into her pants and the Greengrass vault.
Astoria had been there last year when Marcus Flint had tried to force himself onto her sister, to take her virginity so she would be ruined for everyone else. He'd had her pinned down on the grimy floor of a disused classroom in the dungeons, and it had been only sheer luck that Astoria, who'd been looking everywhere for her sister had distracted him by walking in. That moment of distraction had been enough to give Daphne the chance to grab his wand and cast a hasty but fury-fuelled "Glacius" at his private parts.
She'd been known as the Ice Queen since then, both in nickname and demeanour and no one would ever dare mess with her in that way again. Flint on the other hand would deservedly never continue his line. It'd taken a lot of politicking from her father to stop a blood feud being declared on their family. Ice Queen was a name that tormented Daphne, bringing her back to that night where'd been powerless, half-naked on the floor, seconds away from being raped. It had also been a self-fulfilling prophecy, because the funny, fun-loving sister that Astoria had had disappeared underneath a cold and calculating shell, her past self rarely coming to light with anyone but Astoria.
"I'm sorry, I said that you know I didn't mean it was just upset because…" she said to her sister quietly, almost unable to meet her tear-stricken gaze, "I just love him"
"I know, but you know our orders, you know who his father is, and who ours is."
"I just want to feel love before I die."
It was Daphne's turn to try and comfort her sister now and stepped towards her, reached a hand up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I love you, I'd do anything for you, Astoria." she said "I'd take on the curse myself if I could."
"I know, but you know what I mean, and you know you can't."
"I'll stop the curse."
"Just give up Daphne, don't give me hope. Every generation before us has tried, and one was a potions master."
"But they didn't have me," Daphne replied with grim, staunch determination in her eyes.
They stared evenly at each other but were interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Yes?" Daphne asked.
Tracey came in, all bounces and smiles, brown ponytail swishing behind her, completely oblivious to the conversation that occurred just moments ago.
"Come on Daph, we need to get to the Library," she said, "This stupid Defence project for Dumbledore might take ages, and I ain't starting our holiday homework without some decent notes to go on."
Daphne sighed. She hated DADA, it was her weakest subject. "Fine, it's not like I'll make any less progress than on my potions one."