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Chapter Three-Something Important
Ron stands up with a deep breath when he sees Harry coming down the stairs. It's uncanny, how much he still looks like himself. Ron has read stories of children who were taken from their real parents and concealed under illusions, and they always look really different when the illusion wears off.
But Harry just looks the way he always has, so like the pictures of James Potter in the album Hagrid made for him that Ron's heart clenches.
Hagrid. He's someone else who will suffer if Harry's dad wins, someone Harry hasn't thought about.
All of that gives Ron the courage to walk forwards and step in front of Harry. Harry pauses, his eyes flicking to Ron. That's new, at least, Ron thinks bitterly, the caution and the fear that Harry probably thinks is just reasonable.
It wouldn't have to be if he hadn't decided Voldemort was his dad, instead of just the man who fathered him.
"Ron?"
"Hermione and I have been thinking," Ron begins.
Harry's face closes, and his hand twitches like he wants to raise it to the side of his neck, although Ron doesn't know why. He shakes his head, though. "I don't think that we need to have a conversation about anything you and Hermione have been discussing, Ron," he says, his voice clipped and careful. "After all, we've made our relative positions clear."
"But there are things you haven't thought about, Harry."
"What are those?"
Ron lowers his voice. "That there are all sorts of people who will suffer if your side wins. Hermione, sure, but Hagrid, too, and my family, and Dean, and Colin and Dennis, and lots of people in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw." He's not sure about the Slytherins. He thinks it must be impossible for any House not to have some half-bloods and Muggleborns, but he doesn't know of any there. "I know you want to protect the people who—follow you, but can you set their lives against the lives of everyone else?'
"I can't condemn them to death."
"Maybe they wouldn't die. There's no reason to think that V-Voldemort would kill Malfoy—"
"He would," Harry says, sounding utterly certain and bewildering Ron still further. How can anyone choose this when they also believe that Voldemort is evil? "That's the reason he gave them to me in the first place. So I would have people I would go along with him to save."
"Gave you? Like they're objects?"
"That's the way he thinks of them."
"But not the way you need to think of them."
Harry's eyebrows rise so slowly that they look like they're going to drift right off his face. "What way would you have me think of them?"
Ron hesitates, because he didn't really have an answer for this. He didn't anticipate the conversation with Harry going in the direction of treating people as objects. But he forges ahead, because the people who will die if he doesn't are more important than his own embarrassment. "People. No more important than anyone else."
"But you think some people are more important than other people, too."
"Only because good people are more important than evil ones!"
Harry watches him in such silence that Ron has no idea what he's going to say next. Then he shakes his head and pushes past Ron to walk out of the common room.
Ron watches him go with his mouth open. He can't believe that Harry is just—what, going to give up?
But apparently he is, and Ron shouldn't be that surprised by it. A simple philosophical conversation, or even being confronted with the choices that he's making, won't be enough to change Harry's mind when he's so committed to this farce of acting as though Voldemort is acceptable. Evil, but acceptable, somehow.
Ron sighs and goes to consult with Hermione. Maybe she should be the one to talk to Harry next, and maybe they should do it in a public place like she wanted to anyway.
"He wanted you to abandon your courtiers?"
"Yes," Harry says. He's walking into the Great Hall, into the chatter and the speculation about how the school will be different with McGonagall as Headmistress, Yaxley as Transfiguration professor, and an Auror borrowed from the Ministry and known as Gawain Robards as Defense Professor. He doesn't think anyone will notice him speaking to Basilisk. "They're not more important than other people, but somehow the people Ron likes and thinks are good are more important than they are."
"I want to bite them."
"I already told you the problems that you'll cause me if you do that, Basilisk."
Basilisk doesn't respond for a long moment, which is unlike her. Harry is able to reach the Gryffindor table and serve himself some toast and butter and marmalade before she says, "You are smelling unhappy, the way that you did last term."
"Yes." Harry waves at Neville and glances away from Ginny, who's giving him a weird look. He's starting to worry that Theo's spell slipped or something, so that Ron and Hermione could tell other people about him being Voldemort's son.
"But I killed one of the people who was making you unhappy, and another one is gone. Why are you not happier?"
Harry eats a little as he considers how to answer that. But Basilisk is beginning to sound upset when she hisses a wordless question at him, so he sighs and says, "I'm not just unhappy because of certain people being here or not. It's—the secrets I'm carrying, and my father being who he is."
"But he does things to make you happy."
Harry smiles fleetingly. It's always funny to him that "happy" translates in Parseltongue as sounding like "really warm." "I know. But because of who he is, they don't always make me happy."
"I do not think that I can bite the blood-master."
"You're really the best snake, Basilisk. And you don't need to bite him."
"Good. I do not think Nagini would like it, and he might be immune to my venom anyway. We should make sure that you are immune to my venom."
"Maybe eventually."
Basilisk continues to make suggestions throughout breakfast for things she thinks would improve Harry's life, and Harry responds with wordless little hisses, since no one is sitting near enough to him to hear them as Parseltongue. The bond he shares with Basilisk is flowing bright and lively and quick, flashing with blue and green and gold and white.
At least his bossy snake can be happy.
Theo is so annoyed with himself that it's an effort not to crack his cauldron down on the table in Potions. Pansy and Draco stare at him. All three of them brew together regularly, and if they are the only ones who know why, that's fine. They are the only ones—along with their lord—who need to know why.
"Theo?"
"I heard Weasley and Granger talking with Weasley's sister," Theo says, leaning close enough to lower his voice. "They were talking about your Marking, Pansy. They broke my spell."
"But—I know that you always cast them perfectly."
Pansy's smile is small and sharp and fleeting, and so is Theo's. She has reason to know that he casts spells like that perfectly, and because they are who they are, that experience made them friends rather than otherwise.
"I think that the only way they could have slipped free of it was with the help of someone more powerful than me. And I know Weasley and Granger aren't. If they were around Dumbledore, though…" Theo closes his eyes. "I didn't consider that."
"But it still should have prevented them from speaking of it, right?"
"If he knew it already, or if he suspected, the pressure of his magic on the spell could have broken it." Theo curls his fingers into a fist beside the cauldron. It's something he didn't think about, and his lord could suffer as a result.
"It's all right, Theo."
That's his lord, walking into the classroom. Theo's face burns with embarrassment. He didn't even sense Harry coming, and he should have, from the bond that's stretched between them if nothing else.
Harry considers him, obviously, for a long moment, and then sighs and drops into place beside Theo at the table. No one else seems to find that strange, but then, Slughorn has kept them working together since that morning in Potions last term when they first discussed Harry Marking Pansy.
And Weasley and Granger just busily whisper together on the other side of the room, instead of complaining about it.
They know, and they have a plan.
Theo hates them. They had the privilege of being close to Harry all these years, and all they did was waste it in arguing and jealous complaining and focus on each other instead. Well, and making Harry do things like leading a Defense study group. Knowing what he does about his lord now, Theo can guess that Harry reveled in the chance to help people and maybe in the chance to teach, but he would have never sought the attention that came with it.
Neither did he seek Weasley's jealousy. He never put his name in the Goblet of Fire. Even in fourth year, Theo never believed that.
He should have been ours from the beginning.
"It really is all right, Theo."
Theo nods and averts his gaze from Weasley and Granger. The more upset he gets, the more his lord will be forced to deal with it. Theo knows that, and it makes it a little easier to concentrate on chopping up daisy roots for the potion they're making today.
Harry chats lightly with Pansy and Draco as they work. Theo is the one who can feel his distress, though, the way that his eyes stray in Weasley and Granger's direction too often for it to be a coincidence. Pansy and Draco have their own bonds to Harry, but Pansy's is new and Draco keeps his hold on the bond back out of wariness and respect and what he tells himself is still more respect.
Draco will probably never believe himself completely safe in his bond until his father is dead or incapacitated from interference.
Theo goes to the storage cupboard to fetch more snake fangs, since Pansy didn't bring enough, and finds Granger there. He wants to glare, but it seems better to just move past her without speaking.
"Nott."
Theo looks up. Granger is standing in front of him with her arms folded and an expression on her face that wouldn't be out of place from someone about to face a maddened bull.
"We know you're part of the reason that Harry abandoned us, but we're going to get him back."
"Strange that you think he abandoned you instead of the other way around," Theo drawls. He can do this kind of argument in his sleep.
Granger's face flames. "He's confused."
"Deeply confused that two people he thought of as friends would abandon him, yes." Theo is actually glad that he's keeping his calm tone and disagreeing with Granger in a normal way. It makes the devastation on her face so delicious.
"He's not our friend if he would ally with his evil bastard of a father! Doesn't he remember everything Voldemort has done?"
Ever since he got Marked, Theo has noticed a lesser tendency in himself to flinch from the Dark Lord's name. It's interesting, and a side-effect of the bond that he didn't anticipate, but one he would defend with everything in him, just as he would every other part of his lord that other people don't deserve to come in contact with.
He offers Granger a mocking smile instead of screaming and running away like she probably expected, and murmurs, "He remembers. And he also knows that he has no choice. He made the decisions he did partially to protect you."
"I wouldn't want to be protected at the expense of other people!"
"Then you want him to withdraw his protection?"
Granger hesitates for a long moment, and then gets that proud, furious look on her face again, the one that says she knows she's facing an enemy too strong for her, but doesn't actually intend to back down. "Yes. You can tell him so. I don't want him to protect me at the expense of morals and other Muggleborns. At the expense of everything that's good."
Theo has an astonishing urge to shake his head in pity. The Dark Lord's nature and behavior up until this point means that Granger and Weasley have been allowed to play in the shadow of good and evil, to divide everything in the world up that way. And now they don't know how to cope with finding out the world is full of other shadows, all of them sharper-edged.
"Are you sure about that? Do you know what will happen?"
"I already told you, Nott! Go talk to your little lord you're just corrupting further and further with the way you defer to him!"
Granger snatches the snake fangs that she evidently also came for and storms out of the storage cupboard before Theo can answer. Good enough, since someone else is also entering. Theo takes his own snake fangs and makes his way back to the table, his eyes dwelling on Granger's back.
"Theo?"
"Yes, my lord?"
Harry looks a little disgruntled. "I'm going to ask you not to call me that in Potions class since someone could overhear."
Theo hides his smile behind his cauldron. That's a great improvement over the days when he thought that Harry might never accept the title at all. "Okay, Harry. Did you want to ask me a question?"
"Just what you talked with Hermione about."
It's also a great improvement that Harry has no hesitation in asking the question. Theo faces him and nods. "She believes that you're confused and that you abandoned them instead of the other way around. She also thinks that she doesn't want to be protected in such a way that other people aren't protected, so you should withdraw your request for that to the Dark Lord."
"But…"
Harry's face is almost grey. Draco reaches out and lays a hand on his arm, which Theo doesn't mind. He knows that he doesn't work as well at comfort—well, not that kind. He's much better at vicious gifts and defense.
"She's making a choice," Draco says quietly. "You can't shield her, or them, from the consequences of their choices forever, Harry." He lifts his hand from their lord's arm and sits back.
"I can't believe she knows the true consequences, though," Harry says quietly. "Doesn't realize what he would have already done to her if I wasn't standing in between."
Theo finds himself wondering when Harry will address the Dark Lord consistently as his father, then shrugs it off. That particular burden isn't one that Theo or anyone can bear for Harry, and perhaps, considering what it might mean for Harry's beliefs and allegiances, not one that Theo should want to urge him into. "She probably doesn't. She looked scared but determined, and you know that a Gryffindor only charges ahead when they feel that way."
Harry glares at him.
"You're a sort of honorary Gryffindor," Pansy tells him, all sparkling eyes and sweet smile. "Given what else we know about you."
"Yeah, like the Hat wanting to Sort me into Slytherin," Harry mutters, and tosses enough daisy roots into the cauldron that everyone has to duck out of the way.
Theo spends the rest of the class daydreaming about what it would have been like to have Harry in Slytherin. Perhaps it would have made things harder when he was discovered to be the Dark Lord's son—and Theo has no doubt that would have happened. Or perhaps Harry would have changed and hardened in such a way that he would be a less generous and open-minded lord than he is now.
No, Theo finally decides, in the end it's for the best that they have what they have. And if he sees Granger's pale face and Weasley's flushed one out of the corner of his eye as he and Harry walk past them, laughing, out of the classroom, and feels a bit of pity…
They are the ones who had a gift and threw it away.
Everything is bright, bright black.
Lord Voldemort dances quietly in his mind through the blackness, which consists of reports from Corban about Harry, and Harry's own reluctance to acknowledge that his father did something good for him by healing the Longbottoms, and Lord Voldemort's blossoming dreams of vengeance on the petty children who abandoned his son and called him the Heir of Slytherin as if it were an insult.
He is free. He is more powerful and clear-minded than he has ever been. He is a slithering serpent with connections to Nagini and the other Horcruxes blossoming in his mind.
It baffles him that it never occurred to him to keep the Horcruxes close, Of course, he would not leave them without warding and protection, and keeping them separate from himself is a way to ensure that not all of them could be captured and destroyed in one raid, but—
If he were that confident in his warding and protection abilities, why not keep a few of them with him and hide the others? Why not at least see whether the company of one or two would be congenial before scattering them to the ends of the earth?
They are the means of his immortality, which he has always acknowledged, but it seems to him now that he has never valued them enough, that he treated them like rubbish. That is certainly the opinion the cup voiced to him more than once.
He has not yet recovered the locket, and the diary is destroyed beyond recall. But the ring and the cup and the diadem and dearest Nagini are with him at all times, and now and then his heir and Horcrux, the most precious and intriguing of them all.
If he could have Harry with him at all times, he would. But Harry would be unhappy to be taken away from Hogwarts and his friends and courtiers, so Lord Voldemort has acceded to the necessary evil that removes his son from his presence.
But Harry will return with the summer, and then, Lord Voldemort fully intends to have a special ward to present to him, one that will keep him the safest he has ever been and ever will be. That any Horcrux ever will be.
Lord Voldemort's bright and vicious mental dance has begun, in fact, to circle around another target. He has begun to think that warding, by itself, will never be enough to keep Harry safe. There will always be someone, Dumbledore or a member of the Order of the Phoenix or one of his self-righteous and foolish friends, determined to take Harry away from him. To destroy the Horcrux, if they know about it.
Lord Voldemort can envision only one thing that will keep Harry safe forever.
He must simply consider it.
"You know that you should practice, my lord."
Harry takes a slow, deep breath, and finally nods. He knows that Theo is right, but—
It was hard enough to practice Dark Arts with Narcissa Malfoy. There, he did it mostly because he worried about who Voldemort would hurt if he didn't, and thought that person might be Narcissa. Now, he wonders if he'll hurt his courtiers by accident with a spell that he doesn't have full control over.
"You would never hurt them. Sometimes I think you should. It would teach them a lesson."
"You don't need to give lessons to people, Basilisk." Harry ignores the way that Draco and Pansy start when he hisses. They can't see Basilisk, even though they know about her, but they seem to find his speaking Parseltongue surprising, even in the middle of the private dueling room they've created.
Theo just seems to become more focused, leaning his elbow on the wall and watching intently.
"I would do it better than you do," she says tartly, and slithers off his neck to go sulk in the corner. The colors of their bond are blue and grey and green, slathered all over each other like the messes of food that Dudley used to make on the floor for Harry to clean up.
Harry shakes his head, because that's not a good memory, and turns to face the shield on the wall. "You want me to try again?"
"If you will, my lord."
Harry grimaces. He hates it when Pansy puts on that false simpering air. He draws his wand and holds it for a moment in a loose grip, concentrating, before he lashes forwards and casts the spell.
"Sanguis gelo!"
The shield on the wall rocks as the spell hits it. There's a vial of blood there that Theo offered with glittering eyes and Harry knew better than to question. It shudders and shatters, and Harry watches as blood spills all over the shield and freezes.
"Well done!"
Harry flushes a little under the admiration in Pansy's voice. "It still doesn't look the way it did when Mrs. Malfoy performed the spell with me, though."
"Of course not," Pansy says as she steps up to take his place in front of the shield and her own turn at the spell. "She's been casting that spell for a long time and she doesn't mind hurting people. You do."
"And…that's something the lot of you think should change, right?"
Pansy's back stiffens, but she doesn't turn to look at him. Her bond with him, still thinner than the ones with Draco and Theo, shifts back and forth like a string in the wind. So Harry turns to look at Draco and Theo.
Draco ducks his head as if to avoid Harry's gaze. But he says quietly, "I would prefer that you never become the kind of hardened killer that—your father is."
"You know your father doesn't want you to become one, either, Harry?"
"I don't know that at all, Theo. I think he would be happy if I started cutting down enemies left and right."
Theo shakes his head. Their bond is blue and transparent and calm, but Harry still doesn't feel like he can read all the secrets behind his courtier's eyes. "I think part of what he values in you is your difference from him, Harry. It shows in the Mark he let you design and the way that he lets you get away with defying him."
Harry swallows. Basilisk has said similar things, but— "It doesn't mean that I would get away with insulting him or really standing up against him. I'm sure he wouldn't hesitate to threaten any of you if I tried."
"You're shaking in fear."
Theo would know that, of course. Harry tries to stiffen his own spine the way Pansy did hers and keep his voice calm. "Of course I am. You don't know how many fears I've had about one of you dying, or Basilisk."
"The Dark Lord would kill her? When he gave her to you?"
Harry nods impatiently to Draco, wishing he had the mental fortitude at the moment to send soothing calm down their bond, but also knowing that he can't hide not having it. "Of course he would. What matters to him is controlling me, not keeping her alive."
"My lord."
Theo's voice is quiet. Harry glances at him, and shakes his head at the upraised eyebrow he gets. "Just say what's on your mind, Theo."
"More than control matters to him. He does love you—"
"He's still the man who murdered and tortured a bunch of people to death for no other reason than blood purity politics!"
"And he isn't sane, and that is what makes him dangerous. What he might do for love of you." Theo leans a little forwards. "That's the way you should think about him, my lord. It would be dangerous to ignore the possibility that he believes he is doing the right thing when it comes to you."
Harry sucks in a breath and holds it, closing his eyes. Theo is right, damn it. Ignoring that Voldemort loves him is something Dumbledore would do, because he can't believe Voldemort capable of love.
Harry knows that his father is, even if it's mostly for the spark of himself in Harry. He has to think about it.
"Are you ready to talk like a clever person now?"
Harry blinks down at Basilisk, who has wriggled back to his feet. "Like a clever person?"
"Like a person who thinks that he has some chance of surviving the next few days," Basilisk says.
Harry decides that he isn't going to ask what she means, since the answer would probably depress him. "Yes," he hisses back at her.
"Good. Then you should know that the blood-master would kill me if he had to, but he gave me to you to be a gift. Because your happiness is the thing that matters most to him about you."
"You don't say—the thing that matters most of all."
"To be alive is the thing that matters most of all. The blood-master is no different."
Harry jerks his head down in a little nod. He can see what she means. Voldemort's love is conditional just like everyone else's is. Ron and Hermione loved Harry as their friend because they thought he was a good person, and Snape swore a vow of protection because supposedly he was just Lily's son, and Dumbledore cared for him because he thought Harry would do what he wanted.
Theo and Draco and Pansy trust Harry to protect them and lord it over them. Harry knows they would abandon him if that changed. He—doesn't like that, but he doesn't resent it.
"He would not hurt you unless you hurt him. He will do everything he can to protect you." Basilisk flickers her tongue at him and flows up his body to coil around his neck. "You can be sure of that, and stop feeling as restless and unhappy and upset as you are."
"I'm sorry. I know that it hurts the bond you have with me when I feel like that."
"You are more concerned about me than about yourself."
"Yes, of course I am?"
Basilisk flicks her tail against his neck again. "Well, stop it! You have the right to be concerned about yourself as well. I am concerned about you. I want you to stop feeling restless and unhappy, but not because it is hurting me. Because I hate to see you restless and unhappy."
Harry takes a deep breath. It feels as though something has shifted and changed for him that is far more profound than just Basilisk's bossy words. After all, he's heard her say similar things many times before.
"My lord?"
Harry opens his eyes and finds them all watching him with concern, even Pansy turned away from what seems to have been a successful strike at the shield. He takes a deep breath. "I—Basilisk said something that really made sense to me, that's all."
"At least someone can," Pansy mutters.
"You're just jealous that you haven't achieved it yet, Pansy."
"Blaise will help me sneak into your dormitory if I want to set you on fire, Draco dearest."
Theo is the one who keeps watching Harry as Draco and Pansy bicker. "Something important," he says quietly, intensely, leaning forwards. "Something that you needed to hear or perhaps have heard and been ignoring."
Harry bites his lip and nods. It is hard to pretend that people haven't been trying to tell him this. The problem has been that…
What?
That he didn't want to hear. That he didn't dare hear. That he was afraid paying attention to himself would mean he neglected the safety of others.
But now…
Yes, he needs to stay safe and happy to keep Basilisk and the others safe. But also, he deserves to be safe and happy. Basilisk and his courtiers tell him that, and thanks to the bonds they have to him, they can't lie.
Basilisk's bond floods with the colors of a dancing sunrise, and so does Theo's, the first time it's ever done that. He might not know exactly what Harry and Basilisk have been discussing, but he knows Harry is happy and is relieved in that knowledge.
Harry clears his throat. "Yes. Something important."