After Harry had demonstrated the three Unforgivable curses, he was allowed to escape the clutches of the dark lord and return to his room for the rest of the day. It was Tipsy who had delivered the message in the evening: he wouldn't be dining with Voldemort. The Slytherin heir would be out for the night, and Harry was told to continue his studies on his own.
Mixed emotions swirled within Harry as he contemplated his situation. An odd emotion, almost gratitude-like if he were honest with himself, welled up in him for the brief respite from the dark wizard, given the gravity of casting those three curses that could send him straight to Azkaban if ever revealed. But at the same time, he felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness. There was no one he could confide in or talk to about the storm of emotions raging within him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the vivid image of the green light racing towards the rat, the life vanishing from its beady eyes as it fell to the ground.
The following morning, a card with flowing spider script, which Harry had come to associate with the Slytherin heir's handwriting, arrived in his room. It carried words of pride from Voldemort for what he had accomplished and an unexpected decree: he could have the day off. It was the first time Voldemort had ever given Harry such freedom. Although they hadn't always met daily, Harry had always been instructed to study independently whenever the Dark Lord was unavailable. And the Dark Lord had made it abundantly clear that Harry was expected to do so, that anything less would be punished.
Harry gazed out the window, struck by an idea that sparked hope. "Tipsy!"
The small house-elf materialized instantly, her hyper and eager-to-please voice chiming in, "How can I assist you, Master Harry?"
"Does the manor have a garden or some outdoor area I can visit?" Harry inquired, his gaze filled with yearning. He hadn't ventured beyond the manor's walls except for the excursion to collect snake venom.
The elf's expression shifted to one of concern as she contemplated his request. "I'm not trying to leave," Harry quickly reassured her. It was the truth; he had no intention of testing the invisible leash he knew Voldemort had placed on him. "I just want to be outside, breathe in the fresh air. Your master said I could rest today. I just don't want to spend it confined to this room."
The small elf regarded him dubiously; her silence spoke volumes. Harry seized the opportunity. "And Voldemort did say I was allowed to explore the manor. I've been avoiding it because I didn't want to run into a Death Eater." What he didn't want to admit, even to himself, was that a part of him almost hoped to encounter one. Voldemort had stated that he was now strong enough to attend meetings. That meant the Slytherin believed Harry was capable of defending himself among his followers. If he gained nothing else from the harrowing experience of learning the Unforgivable Curses, it would be a newfound confidence in himself. He had been tested in the snake's lair and had emerged victorious. He had absorbed everything Voldemort had thrown at him and was done living in fear. It was time to step out of his room on his own. He could not hide forever.
"Alright, Master Harry," Tipsy muttered reluctantly. "But yous must promise to be careful and not anger the master. I will be watching you!"
Harry suppressed a chuckle at the small elf's warning. He had no doubt that she possessed mysterious powers that could thwart any disobedience. It was almost endearing that she would issue such a threat that also concealed her worry and care.
"Deal," he agreed eagerly. "Let me change, and then you can show me."
With a nod, Tipsy disappeared, and Harry turned to the wardrobe to find suitable attire. Instead of training robes, he found high-fashion wizard trousers and a soft, gray tunic. He grabbed a black robe with silver serpents stitched along the inseam and the hem, just in case it got chilly. As he looked out the window, he noticed the leaves beginning to change colors. He had arrived on his birthday, and now it was already October.
Glancing thoughtfully at his desk, he considered the stack of books he had acquired. He had free rein to take any from the library, and new titles often appeared on his nightstand overnight based on his conversations with his intelligent master. While Voldemort was undeniably brilliant, he demanded that Harry learn independently and not blindly accept his teachings. Harry knew better than to believe the Dark Lord would ever provide reading material that contradicted his own beliefs, but he found that these books enhanced his knowledge and allowed him to see Voldemort's perspective from different angles. They equipped him with increased insight that helped him stand toe-to-toe with the dark lord, who loved to quiz Harry on every aspect of magic.
He picked up a book he had taken from the library early in his captivity, one that focused on magical rituals. He hoped it would shed light on the power Voldemort had gained over him through the magical snake mark on his arm.
Content with his choice, Harry called for Tipsy to return. "Lead the way," he requested eagerly. The prospect of leaving his room was almost enough to divert his thoughts from the Unforgivable Curses he had cast the previous day.
Tipsy led Harry through the sprawling manor, down winding staircases and through passages he had never traversed before. After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached a massive wooden door. "This is the garden, Master Harry," the elf announced, her voice filled with a sense of anxiety. "There is a gate at the far end. Yous should not go near it or the walls," she cautioned, fixing him with a stern gaze.
"I promise," Harry assured her, his sincerity shining through. "Thank you, Tipsy. I appreciate your trust. I just need some time outdoors. This place is getting to me."
Her expression softened, and it seemed he had earned a bit of sympathy as she nodded in understanding. "I is bringing you lunch when it is time, Master Harry." With a snap of her bony fingers, the door swung open, and she simultaneously vanished.
Harry stepped into the garden, and a wash of light bathed him in its gentle embrace. He came to an abrupt halt, overcome with awe. This was unmistakably a magical garden, and its sheer beauty took his breath away.
The entrance to the garden opened into a sprawling expanse that seemed to stretch on endlessly. Harry stepped onto a winding stone path that meandered through the lush vegetation. Towering trees with gnarled branches reached for the sky, their leaves shimmering in various shades of green and silver. The air was thick with an enchanting aroma, a blend of exotic scents that were both soothing and invigorating.
Everywhere Harry looked, he saw flora and fauna that defied imagination. Enormous, luminescent mushrooms glowed softly in the shade, casting an ethereal light over the path. He felt as though he had stepped into a fairy tale. Vibrant flowers with petals that shifted through a spectrum of colors lined the path, their fragrance intoxicating. These were no ordinary blooms; they pulsed with a subtle magic that seemed to respond to Harry's presence as if acknowledging him.
Harry's attention was drawn to a cluster of rare plants that he suspected Snape, the greasy bat- like Potion Master, would covet. One was a spiky, crimson plant with thorns like needles.
Harry recognized it as the Blood Rose, a rare species known for its ability to enhance the potency of potions when brewed with care. Nearby, a set of vines entwined in a graceful dance, their leaves shimmering with a silvery sheen. These were Moonlight Vines, rumored to be a key ingredient in the creation of potions that could reveal hidden truths. Begrudgingly, Harry had to admit that the weeks under Voldemort's instruction were starting to pay off.
As Harry continued to explore, he came upon a tranquil pond, its surface reflecting the clear, blue sky above. Lily pads floated gracefully on the water, each adorned with a radiant, golden flower that emitted a soft, soothing hum. He knew these were known as Harmony Blooms, and their nectar was said to have a calming effect when added to potions. Harry wished he could pick one and give it to Hermione. Or maybe even Neville.
His heart twisted in longing as he thought about his friends, wondering if he would ever see them again. Since the letter fiasco, he had not written again, and Voldemort had not brought it up. He wondered if they had ever received his letter, not knowing what was true and what had been fabricated the day he promised to learn the Unforgivables to save Ron. Clinching his fist, the young Gryffindor silently committed to bringing it up again to get the truth and see if he could correspond with his friends without it being tampered with. Resolved, Harry turned from the pound and renewed his exploration.
The garden was alive with movement and sounds. Tiny, winged creatures flitted about, their iridescent wings shimmering as they danced between the flowers. Harry couldn't help but marvel at the beauty and mystery of this place. While it held no immediate danger, he couldn't shake the feeling that the magic here was very much alive and sentient. He wondered if this was normal for magical manors. He felt the innate power that pulsed through the garden with each step he took, a reminder of the magic that surrounded him in this enchanted world. If he'd grown up on Potter land, would he have had access to similar things?
After exploring the magical garden for well over an hour, Harry stumbled upon a shaded bench beneath a massive tree adorned with white and golden flowers that dangled gracefully from long vines. He sank onto the bench, closing his eyes and taking in a deep, cleansing breath. For the first time since his capture, the constant horrors and turmoil threatening to consume him seemed to recede. He remained in that serene position, simply breathing, letting the tranquility of the garden wash over him.
Just as he began to feel a sense of peace truly settling in, a voice shattered the stillness. "What are you doing here, Potter?"
Emerald eyes snapped open, and he found himself locking gazes with the silver-gray eyes of his school rival, Draco Malfoy.
"I could ask you the same, Malfoy," Harry retorted, his momentary escape now gone.
Draco regarded him with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. "Are you even allowed to be here?" he asked, his gaze scanning the enchanting surroundings skeptically.
"Whether I am or not is none of your business," Harry replied with a hint of exasperation. "Unless you plan to run straight to your Dark Master and lick his boots, trying to tattle on me, then I suggest you get lost."
Silver eyes narrowed as Draco assessed him. He crossed his arms over his slender chest, his pale features marred by lingering shadows under his eyes. His once perfectly coiffed hair lacked the same lustrous sheen that Harry had always associated with their school days when Draco had strutted around like he owned the entire castle.
"I see nothing has been done to make you lose your attitude," Draco remarked, his tone a mixture of sarcasm and something else—concern, perhaps. "You seem to be in reasonable health considering..."
Harry snorted, cutting him off. "As much as your concern warms my heart, I really have nothing to say to you. Why are you in Voldemort's garden anyway?" He tilted his head, studying Draco.
Draco's gaze shifted away, and he seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then, with a resigned sigh, he spoke, "I come here to...think. It's the one place where I can escape the constant scrutiny of the Manor. Besides, the vegetation often holds unique ingredients that are useful for potion-making."
Harry raised an intrigued eyebrow, despite himself. "You're not telling me that you live here?"
Draco's lip curled in a sneer. "Merlin, no, of course not." As if realizing he had spoken ill of his master's home, his eyes shifted around nervously. "Not that there's anything wrong with the manor." He paused, giving Harry a considering look. "Whenever my father is here, serving our Lord, he's been ordered to bring me along. But they rarely have any use for me since I'm not of age, so I'm left to my own devices." He sighed dramatically, and some of the old Draco that Harry had always known surfaced. "And, as you know, some interesting wizards and witches are usually in attendance... so I come out here to avoid them."
Harry shook his head, releasing an exasperated laugh. "That is the understatement of the century. They are completely unhinged." Draco's lips curled into a slight smirk in agreement. Harry couldn't fault the logic behind Draco's desire to avoid the paths of murderers and madmen.
"But I don't get why you're here. Shouldn't you be at school?" A pang of regret twisted through Harry at the reminder that he had missed the start of his sixth year.
Draco frowned. "You don't know?"
Harry shook his head, dread settling in his stomach. "Don't tell me they've canceled school." Draco's frown deepened. "They attacked the Hogwarts Express on the first day." Straightening, Harry felt his breath catch. "Was anyone harmed?"
"Shockingly not," Draco replied. "Death Eaters stopped the train and held everyone at wand point, but all the kids were released in the end. The trolley lady and the conductor were both pulled from the train and brought to the Dark Lord's prison. No one has seen or heard from them. I'm not sure what happened."
"Merlin," Harry muttered, the news leaving him in disbelief. He could scarcely wrap his mind around it. "What did Dumbledore do?"
"He appeared shortly after the attack started. Death Eaters had boarded the train and locked students in their compartments, holding them captive, but no one was tortured. I honestly can't believe that no one was killed or hurt," Draco said, frowning and studying Harry with a thoughtful look. "I heard rumors that he has an agreement with you, that you've become his apprentice, and he promised the students would not be harmed in return."
Startled, Harry leaned forward, dropping his head into his hands. Gripping his messy hair loosely, dismay washed through him. "Where did you hear that?" he asked softly, dreading the answer. Of course, Voldemort would not keep such an agreement to himself. If the entire wizarding world knew he had been captured and had succumbed, there would be no hope for him to escape. No one would ever trust him again.
"Everyone knows, Potter," Draco replied softly as if trying to convey his sympathy for the young Gryffindor's predicament. "The Ministry knows he has you, that you willingly returned after he attacked the weasel's house. Once you agreed to his demands, the Dark Lord was all too willing to let a few of his lesser followers get captured by the Ministry and release claims that you trained with him daily and took his mark."
Draco paused, his voice cautious and curious. "Is it true?"
Harry nodded shakily, unwilling to meet his teenage rival's eyes. "Yes, it's true. He was going to kill them all if I didn't. And you and I both know I was never going to escape once he got me here. It was the only way I could protect them." He hated how defeated he sounded, and the knowledge that everyone knew weighed on him more heavily than he had anticipated.
Forcing himself to regain composure, Harry sat back up and scanned the garden, focusing on the sparkling flowers. A frog leaped from a smooth rock into a moss-covered pond that he had not initially noticed. "Why did he attack the train if he didn't intend to harm anyone?"
Draco shrugged uncomfortably. "To send a message that no one was safe. The Dark Lord himself appeared at the train when Dumbledore and the Aurors showed up. He said he had a message for the wizarding world, warning that if the students returned to the school, they would knowingly be returning to Voldemort's main target, and they would have no one but themselves to blame when innocent blood was spilled during his retaking of the castle. He threatened everyone, kids and adults alike." The Slytherin paused, his eyes distant as he gazed at the grass-covered ground. "They closed the school after that; parents are too afraid to send their children, to put them at risk."
"You can't be serious," Harry said incredulously.
Draco nodded soberly. "Everyone is terrified. We all know how easily that could have turned into a bloodbath. All the students could have been tortured or killed."
Swallowing hard, Harry pushed himself shakily to his feet, clutching his wand tightly. "He's really doing it, isn't he?" He asked more to himself than to Draco. "If he can scare them into not reopening the school, I can't imagine what other things he's done to make them all hide. If students aren't learning, if Hogwarts isn't even seen as safe..." Harry trailed off, unsure of what to say next.
"I think he's going to take the Ministry soon," Draco offered, his tone filled with fear rather than satisfaction.
"How do you know?"
"He summoned everyone last night, and they've been going almost non-stop since. He's planning something big."
"Have you attended any of the meetings?" Harry inquired. Draco shook his head. "My father has been keeping me out."
"Why? I would have thought you'd jump at the opportunity to grovel before your Lord," Harry spat.
"For once, stop it, Potter," Draco growled. "You and your high horse. Do you know how hard it is to resist him? My father is marked; he has access to our manor anytime he wants to drop by. My mother lives in constant fear that any day, someone from my family will take their last breath."
"And you chose this," Harry snapped, glaring at him. "Your father willingly took the Mark!"
"But I didn't!" Draco stopped abruptly, his eyes wide, and he glanced around fearfully. Both of them understood that admitting this here could be a death sentence. Anything that wasn't complete loyalty was punishable in the harshest ways.
"I didn't mean that," Draco muttered, shaking his head, regret washing over him. He took a step back, turning as if to leave.
"Draco, wait," Harry called quietly.
"I need to go; it's dangerous to be around you," Draco said, taking another step back. "Please, stay," Harry implored. "I swear I won't say anything."
Draco paused, his silver eyes fixed on Harry in a peculiar manner. "Like I believe you, Potter. You're even more stuck in this hellhole than me; you wouldn't jump at the chance to pay me back? To do something to get at my father?"
Harry took another step closer, his desperation to keep Draco from fleeing intensifying. He was quickly realizing that the blond was just as much a prisoner as he was. Perhaps Draco's choices had led him deeper into Voldemort's clutches than others, but it didn't mean Draco deserved this life. Moreover, this was the first conversation Harry had had in months that didn't involve Voldemort. And he was actually getting news from the outside, something he had been desperate for.
"You're right, I am stuck here. As you very well know. So, no, I won't tell on you. What would I gain? It's not like any knowledge about you or your father would change Voldemort's plans for me. The only thing it would do is betray you, and believe it or not, I have no desire to do that. I don't wish this life on anyone, not even you." The words flowed from Harry, surprising him with their sincerity. He genuinely didn't want to get Draco in trouble.
Moreover, Harry didn't want to end this rare moment of truthfulness he was sharing with the blond, someone he never would have thought he could have a real conversation with. And, the sly Slytherin voice that had been ever-growing in his mind, whispered that he could use this to gain Draco's trust to gather more information about the outside world and better understand Voldemort's plans. Maybe he could even persuade Draco to pass a message for him. He wasn't anywhere near ready to trust the slippery blond, but it was better than nothing.
His sincerity appeared to reach Draco, who stared at him as if he were seeing Harry for the first time.
"Please don't go," Harry implored.
"Why should I trust you?" Draco asked, his skepticism evident.
"Because I have nothing to gain and everything to lose," Harry replied honestly. "And as shocking as it may sound, seeing you here hasn't been dreadful. I want you to stay."
"Wow," Draco scoffed, though it was clear that his demeanor was somewhat forced. "You must be desperate if you want me to stick around here."
Harry allowed a faint smile to grace his lips. "You have no idea how terrible the company has been," he admitted in a conspiratorial tone, drawing a smirk to the blonde's face.
Draco took another tentative step back toward the raven-haired teen. "Is it true that you train with him every day?"
Harry nodded, noticing the conflict playing out on Draco's face. On one hand, any dark wizard would likely give anything for the opportunity to learn from the most powerful Dark Lord in centuries. On the other, Draco had to at least suspect how terrifying such an experience could be, especially for someone who had been targeted for murder by the same wizard since infancy.
"What's it like?" Draco asked, curiosity overtaking his reservations.
Harry ran a hand through his messy hair as he contemplated the question. "Honestly, he's terrifying. I've never felt so much raw power. And there's no limit to his knowledge. I don't know how he knows everything he does. He's mastered some terrifying spells, and his runic and ritual work is unheard of." Harry paused, hating the sense of awe that crept into his own observations. Voldemort was undoubtedly a force to be reckoned with. "He's strict and demanding. But he's also the best instructor I've ever had. He can explain magic in a way unlike anyone I've ever seen. It's no wonder he's so powerful; he understands magic inside and out."
Draco hung onto Harry's words. "I can't believe you, of all people, are getting to learn all of this."
Harry scoffed, "I'd gladly trade places with you."
"I bet you would," Draco agreed, his tone carrying a hint of longing. "Does this mean that you've stopped fighting him and joined the Dark side?"
Turning, Harry walked over to the nearest pond, gazing pensively at the water's surface. Flashes of blue and purple fish streaked just below the surface. Surprisingly, Draco followed him, stopping just behind him at the water's edge. Uncharacteristically, he allowed Harry to gather his thoughts in silence.
"I'm not sure," Harry admitted after a long pause. "I don't want this life. I don't want to be here. But I can't see a way out. He forced his mark on me, and I agreed to learn from him to save my friends." He shrugged. "I may not have joined the Dark side, but I doubt the Light would ever take me back after what he's forced me to learn." Once again, the image of the green light piercing the rat and it dropping lifelessly to the floor flashed before his eyes.
He looked up, meeting contemplative grey eyes. "And from what you've said, I'm not sure it matters. If he takes the Ministry and the school's been shut down, it sounds like he's winning."
Draco glanced away, his usually haughty demeanor replaced with a somber one. "What a world we live in, Potter," he murmured. "For what it's worth, Dumbledore and his army of do-gooders haven't given up. They're giving as good as they take. The Ministry is finally on board; the attack on the train was the last straw. Fudge was voted out with a vote of no confidence. Bones took his spot as interim Minister until a proper election can be held. And, while I hate to admit it, she's competent. The Ministry has a rapid response team always on standby, able to put a stop to most Death Eater activity quickly. Not much ground has been taken outside of the school shutting down. That's why I think he's planning something big now, something that will rock the entire wizarding world."
"What do you think he'll do?" Harry asked.
Draco shrugged. "You could probably get him to admit his true plans better than any of us could."
Frowning, Harry turned back to the pond, his mind racing. Draco had given him a lot to think about.