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Chapter Eight—Appointments

Once again, Harry was in the Headmaster's office, with silver instruments scattered around him and a quietly crooning phoenix on the perch. But this time, the look in Dumbledore's eyes was heavy, and he wasn't offering smiles or sweets or the Sorting Hat.

Snape stood against the wall, scowling, his hands clasped behind his back. Harry was a little sorry that he wouldn't get to see the damage he'd done.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, with a long sigh that made it sound as if he was falling away down an invisible staircase. "Damaging Mr. Malfoy's wand was unacceptable."

"Really?" Harry smiled at him. "And what about what he's been doing to me all these years?"

"He has done nothing to you," Snape snarled.

Harry ignored him, eyes fastened on Dumbledore. The Headmaster at least blinked and wrinkled his forehead as if he was trying to recall what Harry meant. "What would that be, Harry?" he asked finally, after seeming to make a valiant attempt to think it through.

"Curses. Hexes. Jinxes. Stealing my things. Tripping me down stairs, resulting in at least five trips to the hospital wing. I can't even remember how many trips I made because of the spells he used. Taunting me. Calling me names. Freak. The son of a Mudblood. Idiot. Weakling. No one ever did anything about those things, probably because my Head of House hates me for stupid irrational reasons that he's never disclosed. Why should you get involved when I snapped Malfoy's wand?"

Dumbledore blinked rapidly and sat back a little from the desk. Meanwhile, Snape took a long step forwards. Harry's hand dropped to his side, and the air stirred with a forming ward.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said at last, slowly. "I never heard about any of that."

"Probably because Snape never reported it to you," Harry said, smiling pleasantly and ignoring the murmur of "Professor Snape, Harry. "And even though I gave up on reporting anything to him after the spring term of my first year, I know that he still heard about it, because Malfoy would brag and Snape would taunt me about it in class when I still had Potions. I also refuse to believe that you're ignorant of the amount of detentions Snape assigned me for things like breathing too loudly and the way I got treated by Malfoy in the Great Hall, where you could see it. Sir."

Dumbledore was silent. Harry could be silent, too, and he waited, ignoring the way that Snape tried to loom over him. He knew, now, that he could strike back. Even if he received detention because Dumbledore wouldn't think it was accidental magic anymore, Harry would simply hurt Snape until he backed off.

"I never knew that," Dumbledore finally repeated.

"Now you do," Harry said softly. "If the reason that you care about me snapping Malfoy's wand when you never cared about what I suffered is because of who he is and that is father is on the Board of Governors—"

"No, Harry, of course not. Blood status does not matter, and I strive to treat all my students equally."

Strive, and fail. "I'll serve the detentions if you assign them," Harry said. "Or if Snape does. But not with Snape. I won't apologize to Malfoy. I won't pay for his new wand. I won't do anything that implies remorse on my part when he wouldn't apologize for six years of relentless bullying. I'm done pretending that I don't care about that."

Dumbledore just sat there as if mystified, tapping his fingers slightly on his desk. Harry continued to watch him, and to keep the air coiled and ready. He doubted he would need to use a ward against Dumbledore, but Snape was still a possibility.

"To snap a wand," Dumbledore said at last, "the core of a witch's or wizard's strength, practically part of his or her personality…"

"Would you have given me the same speech if Malfoy had snapped my wand, the way he threatened to do years ago? Or would you have shaken your head and ignored me because it apparently only matters when I strike back?"

Dumbledore peered at him through his glasses. Harry peered back.

"It has now happened twice," Dumbledore said quietly, no humor in his voice. "I thought it accidental when it happened to Professor Snape, but it was not, was it? You deliberately made the choice to harm Mr. Malfoy and Professor Snape as much as you could."

"As much as six years of bullying harmed me?"

"Mr. Potter, we are not here to discuss that—"

"Ah," Harry said, and felt something inside him relax. He didn't enjoy that Dumbledore was putting himself on the opposite side, exactly, but at least a teacher being there was familiar. "We're only here to discuss my retaliation, right, sir? Not what I was retaliating for?"

Dumbledore watched him in silence for another long moment. Harry kept part of his attention on the Headmaster and part on Snape. If either of them made a move, he was ready.

It had been a long time since Albus had felt this weary.

He had hoped—it was no more than a distant, dusty hope at this point, but still—that Harry had not been blunted and tarnished by his experiences within Slytherin. Albus had known of Severus's grudge, and he had seen the way that Harry had sat at a distance from his Housemates in the Great Hall, but he hadn't known the extent of the bullying that Harry had described.

It seemed that the blunting had gone deeper than Albus had feared, making Harry not corrupt but callous, and indifferent to the pain of others. He had not been able to reach across House lines. He had not been able to find friends in his own House.

Albus did have questions about the way that young Mr. Nott had rescued Harry from the flying wooden splinters of Severus's wand, but he doubted Harry would answer them if he asked them now. Harry's clear green eyes were too bright, too hostile.

"Words would have been acceptable to answer words. Hexes to answer hexes. Not the destruction of a wand."

Harry studied him for a moment longer. Albus frowned some more at him. Harry only watched as if he didn't really understand the words, and then shrugged a little.

"Are you going to have me break my wand, sir?"

Albus blinked, flummoxed. He couldn't tell what Harry was feeling at the moment, but it seemed a sincere question. "No, of course not, my boy."

"You should, Albus," Severus said, his voice low and ugly. Albus shot him a chiding glance. Severus didn't notice, his glittering eyes fixed on Harry, who stared back at him. "It would be nothing but justice."

"You were trying to use a Blasting Curse on me," Harry said, and he had an ugly smile of his own that came and went. "Where is the justice in that?"

"Mr. Potter, Severus, please," Albus said, and sat back, shaking his head. Honestly, it was like dealing with children. "Mr. Potter, you are going to serve detention every evening for the rest of the term. It will rotate between different professors, and you will be expected to copy lines and read books about the supreme importance of a wand to wizards and witches."

Harry twitched his head towards Severus. "Fair warning, sir. If you want me to attend any with him, then I simply won't attend them."

"I will take what would have been Professor Snape's evenings."

Harry just nodded, not turning a hair. Albus stared at him, frustrated, longing to go back in time and make a difference, and knowing there was nothing he could do that would make that difference. The bullying had been done. The damage to Severus's wand and hand—although that had been mostly healed—was done, and now Mr. Malfoy would suffer in trying to find another wand that would choose him.

He would undoubtedly find one, if Albus knew Garrick Ollivander at all. But he would struggle for months trying to find the same level of comfort with it that he had with his old, broken one.

The most disturbing part, Albus thought, was that he had the feeling Harry would simply smile and shrug if Albus told him that.

"You may go," Albus said wearily. "Your first detention is at six on Monday evening in my office."

Harry nodded, and stood, and glided out of the office like a shadow.

"Bad blood will out," Severus growled, flexing his hands. He had a new wand, but it was even worse for older adults to adapt to a new wand than it was for a teenager, and Albus didn't blame him for not drawing it. "I told you about that one, Albus. I warned you."

"You spent six years warning me and putting him in detention for things like breathing, Severus. And you cast a Blasting Curse at him."

"What happened the minute I stopped? He broke Mr. Malfoy's wand."

Albus sighed, and said nothing. In some ways, he would have liked to punish Severus more severely for trying to maim a student, at the very least, and in other ways, he was very much aware of how much he would depend on Severus as his spy when Voldemort made his move.

Albus knew that a wardmaster calling himself Tom Marvolo Riddle had appeared in Europe, but so far, Riddle had not called his followers to him, had made no raids, had never struck at Muggleborns. If Albus acted before he did, then his efforts to convince people that Voldemort was alive would make Albus himself look mad and delusional.

Magical Britain had become used to peace. Albus dreaded how badly it would have to crack before they could accept that it had always been an illusion.

Harry studied the letter in front of him. Beside it were several journals, more recent publications than the ones that Harry had been using to study for his NEWTS, that held articles written by Wardmaster Riddle or commenting on his work.

He was a genius, from what Harry had been able to discover. A certified one.

But even he didn't talk about anything like Harry's wards.

Smiling thinly, Harry glanced down and read the letter again.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I applaud your caution. Not only do you have an admirable grasp of warding for one so young, but of course you would not want to enter into an apprenticeship contract without an assurance that I would not steal your secrets.

I will swear any oath you like that I will not take your secrets or harm you unless you decide to attack me first. Research the kind of oaths that can be sworn by writing with a Blood Quill and send me your choice.

I look forward to meeting you soon, and perhaps making you my apprentice.

Yours,
Wardmaster Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Harry had already looked up the oaths, and sent back his choice a few days before. Riddle would have to sign with a Blood Quill and would have to imbue the parchment with a bit of his magic to prove his sincere intent. Harry had kept Riddle's letter, though, because it made his heartbeat pick up when he looked at it.

At last he was taking a concrete step towards the goal he had set himself when he realized that he should have enough study time for his NEWTS when he was no longer taking OWL classes like Potions: leaving magical Britain.

Nott had said that Riddle was a well-respected wardmaster in many places on the Continent, and from what Harry could see after researching the man's work, that was true. Even if he didn't want to take Harry on as an apprentice after meeting him, he should be able to give Harry some advice about where he could immigrate.

Harry, his smile still in place, went to put the journals away and attend his detention with Dumbledore.

It took everything in Theo to keep from pacing the Slytherin common room like an idiot. He sat in a corner with a book instead, one on the history of Arithmancy that he'd read many times before, and to all appearances, he was perfectly placid. But he raised his head at once when he heard the door open at nearly nine.

Potter walked into the common room, his face blank in the way that Theo had come to realize it'd been for most of the last two years. He paused when he saw Theo, and then he jerked his head at him and walked towards a far corner. The air around him stirred and shimmered with what must be a ward.

Theo didn't bother trying to hide his impatience as he stood up and paced after Potter. The other people in the common room were either firsties and second-years who ducked the notice of seventh-years as much as possible, or people who had been avoiding looking at both Theo and Potter since Malfoy's second punishment.

Malfoy was still out of school, presumably searching for a wand that would match him, or more likely, practicing to make sure that he wasn't clumsy with the new one. The thought warmed Theo's heart.

Potter turned around when they reached the corner, and gestured the ward into being. Theo relaxed with a sigh when he felt the air around them heat up in crisscrossing patterns, and reckoned it was simply a ward that would protect their privacy.

"What is it, Nott?"

"Why the fuck did they give you detention?"

Potter's eyebrows twitched upwards. "I did break another student's wand," he said, mildly, but with a warning underneath the words that made Theo pause and try to wrestle his own indignation back under control. "I'm told that's not acceptable."

Theo rubbed his fingers back and forth over each other, a tell that he had managed to stop in public. Potter's eyes darted to his fingers and then rose back to his face.

"Ah," Potter said, "you're not summoning wandless magic."

Theo flicked a smile at him. "No," he said. "I just—they didn't give Malfoy detentions for his taunting. Or me. Or Crabbe or Goyle or Blaise. Why did Dumbledore decide that now was the right time?"

Potter shrugged. "He thought that my destroying Snape's wand was accidental magic. Now he's been proven wrong, and he's angry about it. Plus I think he thinks differently about things he can see or hear about and things that were never reported to him. And finally, he told me wands were different than words or hexes."

Theo sneered. "He sees his own perspective, but no one else's."

"Until a few weeks ago, I would have said the same thing was true of you."

Theo met those green eyes that he sometimes felt now would decide his future, and swallowed and bowed his head. "I know," he whispered. "I can offer no excuses except that I've changed my mind."

"I still want to know why."

"I started thinking about what you could have been, if I hadn't bullied you," Theo said. It was hard to pull the words from what felt like the depths of his stomach, but at the same time, he was consumed by a need for Potter to understand. "Accepted by Slytherin. An acclaimed Quidditch player. Someone who would probably already have multiple offers of apprenticeships and whose talents with wards and wandless magic would have been recognized. I bullied you to pass the time, because I was bored, because I was ignorant. But I had to realize how thoroughly I had destroyed someone who could have been great."

Expressions darted across Potter's face, so fast that Theo couldn't sort them out, no matter how avidly he watched. Then Potter shook his head a little and murmured, "It wasn't like you were the only reason."

Theo shrugged. "I know. But I was part of it, and I can never know how much damage I caused specifically. Plus, no one else seems likely to change their mind or regret it. And after I started thinking about it with you, I started thinking about it with other people. So I offered Potions tutoring to Longbottom, and Granger said that she wanted to practice dueling and a few other things with me."

Potter considered him, the most open look he'd given Theo yet. Then he said, "Even if I was inclined to allow you to make it up to me, there's nothing you can offer me like you're offering it to them. I don't trust you enough to duel against you, and I understand Potions better on my own."

"I understand."

"But you have something in mind."

Potter had a Slytherin's clear insight into other people when he could trust it, Theo thought, and brushed off thoughts about how he had been partially responsible for crippling that ability. "I do. But you've already made it clear that I can't truly make it up to you. And this is something I thought of, not you, so I don't know if you would want it."

"What is it?"

"You could use me as a source of information, if you want. The way you did with information about Riddle and the ward. I can offer you information on who was a Death Eater in the past, their current plans, rumors of the Dark Lord's capabilities, what I know about other Slytherins like Malfoy, some potential blackmail—"

"How would you know the parts about the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord?"

"My father was a Death Eater, and he trusts me."

Potter's eyes flew wide. He stared at Theo in silence for a few minutes, and Theo basked in it.

At last, Potter said, "I thought purebloods were all about family."

"I would be pleased if you didn't attack my father or use the information against him. But I accept that I can't stop you. I can only offer it and hope you don't."

"You—would still be turning against him, though."

"He wouldn't be pleased with me if he knew. But I hold personal loyalties above family ones. There's just never been anyone I could choose before."

Potter continued to stare at him. Theo waited quietly. He felt as though he had just performed the most dazzling dueling exhibition of his life, and now he had simply to wait for the judgment. His heart beat with a gentle cadence. Everything was done. There was nothing more to be worried about.

Potter tilted his head. "I accept."

Theo had never known what his father meant before about feeling like a sun had risen inside him—the way he'd described feeling when he met Mother—but he did now.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"I'll destroy you if you betray me. Do you know that, Theo?"

Potter had taken a long step towards him, and his voice was low and mocking, his fingers crooked with magic spluttering around them. Theo knew he had chosen the first name only for intimidation purposes, too.

But it didn't matter. Theo looked into Harry Potter's green eyes and said, "I know it. You need never worry. I'll swear any loyalty oath you like."

Potter canted his head backwards and looked uncomfortable for the first time. But also cold enough to enthrall Theo. "I don't want to trust something like that. You'll prove yourself to me without one."

"Yes," Theo said. "Yes, I will."

Potter's face turned thoroughly bewildered, but he nodded and let the privacy ward fall.

Theo turned to watch him go. Potter didn't look back.

He didn't need to. Theo felt the thrum of what he had promised in all his heart and soul, another thing his father had told him about and that Theo had thought he would never find.

Now that he had, he would do all he could to prove himself worthy of it.