Butterfly

by Aisling-Siobhan
LMHP Harry was always told he was a bit like a Caterpillar and one day he'd be a
Butterfly too. Sorted into Ravenclaw, Harry learns that sometimes it's much harder to
keep secrets than it is to tell lies. But it could be worse: he could be a Slytherin!
Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Drama - Harry P., Lucius M. - Chapters: 51 Words: 213,834 - Reviews: 2,010 - Favs: 2,371 - Follows: 1,890 - Updated: 6/5/2012
- Published: 3/11/2009 - Status: Complete - id: 4917156
URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4917156

Table of Contents
Table of Contents
1. Prologue
2. Chapter 1
3. Chapter 2
4. Chapter 3
5. Chapter 4
6. Chapter 5
7. Chapter 6
8. Chapter 7
9. Chapter 8
10. Chapter 9
11. Chapter 10
12. Chapter 11
13. Chapter 12
14. Chapter 13
15. Chapter 14
16. Chapter 15
17. Chapter 16
18. Chapter 17
19. Chapter 18
20. Chapter 19
21. Chapter 20

22. Chapter 21
23. Chapter 22
24. Chapter 23
25. Chapter 24
26. Chapter 25
27. Chapter 26
28. Chapter 27
29. Chapter 28
30. Chapter 29
31. Chapter 30
32. Chapter 31
33. Chapter 32
34. Chapter 33
35. Chapter 34
36. Chapter 35
37. Chapter 36
38. Chapter 37
39. Chapter 38
40. Chapter 39
41. Chapter 40
42. Chapter 41
43. Chapter 42
44. Chapter 43

45. Chapter 44
46. Chapter 45
47. Chapter 46
48. Chapter 47
49. Chapter 48
50. Chapter 49
51. Chapter 50

Prologue
Hello everybody! [Cocks ear and waits for 'hi Doctor Nick!']
I wasn't supposed to start this until I finished The Lambs (but there are only three
chapters left anyway) but here I am. I have a load of stuff to do for Uni, but I really
need a break, and the thing is I don't seem to be motivated to write The Lambs or
Black Complication (even though I'm meant to dedicate the next thing I do write to
BOOMrobotdog who had her birthday a couple weeks ago), so here is the first
chapter of Butterfly!
It's a prologue, so it's skipped the whole start of the story. But I'll go back to Harry's
childhood in chapter 1 " and it'll be a long story from there. I'm doing his life as it
passes, from childhood to year four and on wards. That's the plan, anyway; we'll see
how it goes.
* * *
"Butterfly"
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, et all are property of JK Rowling, and Bloomsbury, and
Warner Bros and all those other nifty people that make it so we can read and watch
the Potterverse whenever we feel like it. I make no money from this, just so you
know.
Summary: [LM/HP] When Harry was 5 he had a pet butterfly. The butterfly could
turn into a man who lived in Harry's basement. That man killed Vernon when Harry
turned 8. That man is a Death Eater who has been training Harry in how to be a
proper Pureblood Heir. Harry was always told he was a bit like a Caterpillar and one
day he'd be a Butterfly too. Sorted into Ravenclaw, when he starts Hogwarts, Harry
learns that sometimes it's much harder to keep secrets than it is to tell lies. But it
could be worse: he could have been a Slytherin. As if enough people didn't look at
him funny already!
Warnings: Slash. LM/HP: HP/other(possibly DM)(minor). AU. Character Death.
Violence. Language. Ravenclaw Harry. Underage. Attempted Non-Con.
Rating: R/NC-17 SLASH!!
A/N: I got the idea of being raised by a Death Eater from the fiction A Life Of Lies,
which I love, over at HP Fandom. I also have the author's permission to use Evan
Rosier as that Death Eater.

XXX
Words: 5,155
Chapter 1
Prologue
29th May 1995. Little Hangleton.
When the world stopped spinning, Harry found himself thrown to the ground. He
landed painfully on his injured leg, suppressing a groan as he rolled onto his back.
His eyes fluttered as he focused on the sky above him, taking in the blue sky and the
slight smattering of fluffy white clouds as he tried not to vomit. He turned his head to
the side and frowned. They were obviously nowhere near Hogwarts now. Even the
mountains that usually surrounded the castle were out of sight now. Harry was lying
on the ground in the middle of a dark and overgrown cemetery. There was a hill to
the left of him, and he could barely make out the shape of a house on the hill. A
church was to their right, far away from them nonetheless.
He was alone " almost.
Beside him Cedric Diggory made an excited squealing noise.
Cedric was seventeen and, despite the fact that he was older than Harry, he was
spinning around in circles laughing. "We won, Potter!" He cried, looking down at the
boy on the ground. "We won!" He was tall, and fair-haired. His grey eyes sparkled in
his handsome face as he turned to grin at Harry.
"Where are we?" Harry whispered. He had an idea of what was going on, of course
he did. Evan wouldn't have risked his safety in anyway, and that included not
informing Harry of any plans the Dark Lord was carrying out. He knew something
was happening, right then, as they spoke, but he wanted to know where he was as
well.
Cedric stilled suddenly. He drew his wand from within his robe and pointed it ahead
of him. "Wands out I suppose?" His free hand was clenching at the black and yellow
fabric of his sporting robe, nervously.
Harry watched him curiously. It was strange, the teenager decided, how humans
could change from one emotion to another so suddenly. Each smile, followed by a
frown, followed by another smile was a metamorphosis of its own: like changing from
a caterpillar to a butterfly. Each time, stopping to rest as a cocoon.

Harry was a cocoon for all intents and purposes.

Out of the corner of his eyes, the Ravenclaw spotted a short, podgy man sneaking
towards them. In one arm the man was carrying a bundle wrapped in black, and the
other hand held his wand out straight, pointed at Cedric. Harry considered warning
the other boy, but he didn't want to ruin the Dark Lord's plans. He bit his bottom lip,
thinking. The slight moment he would have had to save the other boy's life passed,
and Harry watched as green light engulfed the other Tri-Wizard Champion content
that he had made the right decision to let it happen.
Harry wasn't like other children. He didn't care about right and wrong, or black and
white magic. Harry believed in power. You either sought power or you were to weak
to seek it, and so you sought out the powerful and made yourself of use to them.
Peter Pettigrew was not powerful, but he was loyal to the Dark Lord. It was for that
reason alone that Harry did not attack the man the instant his hands fell on Harry's
shoulders.
"Incarcerous!" Pettigrew shouted, shoving Harry backwards at the same time. The
teenager smirked slightly. Obviously, this Death Eater was not privy to the Dark
Lord's secrets.
Ropes bound him, arms and legs and torso, to the gravestone that had been directly
behind him. For the first time, Harry noticed the large black cauldron that sat beside
him. Beneath it, Pettigrew lit a fire, and they watched it burn in silence for a moment
before a hissing voice commanded, "hurry, you fool. Put me in the cauldron."
Harry watched them: his head tilted to one side as he studied the horrid creature
being bared before him. Pettigrew unwrapped the black cloth from what he had been
carrying, and Harry's mouth turned down in distaste as the rotting corpse of a baby
was revealed to him. It hardly even resembled a child anymore. What was bared to
Harry was scaly and hairless, hunched over and looking a dark reddish black colour.
Its face was flat, snakelike, and red eyes peered up at him, narrowing at Harry's
obvious lack of fear.
Voldemort was laid gently down into the cauldron and Pettigrew immediately set to
work. There was a splash as Voldemort entered the cauldron, then a soft thud as he
hit the bottom. For a brief moment, Harry thought, 'let it drown', his eyes straying to
Cedric's corpse. But then he shook himself, straightened his back as much as he
was able (tied to a gravestone, and all) and looked Pettigrew straight in the eyes.
Pettigrew looked away first. He spoke, his voice slow and shaky and he looked
scared out of his mind. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your

son!"
The ground Harry stood upon began to shake, the dirt on top of the grave shifting
slightly to the side. A fine mist rose up, glittering softly in the twilight as it floated
towards the cauldron. Bone fragments, Harry realized, worn down completely by
time. He swallowed heavily as the potion in the cauldron turned a poisonous blue.
He had no reason to fear, he tried to remind himself. This was his Lord; he would
happily serve this man because it would make Evan happy as well. His Lord would
not hurt him, nor would Evan be harmed. He didn't have to fear. His brain seemed to
find that argument reasonable, but his heart, oh his heart, was beating four times
faster than it should have been. It skipped a beat as Pettigrew suddenly produced a
dagger and held it to his own right hand. That hand that was already missing a
finger.
"Flesh of the servant... willingly given... you will revive your m-master," the other man
stuttered. The dagger was shaking, rocking terrifyingly from side to side as it pressed
harder against skin. As he said the word 'master' Pettigrew pushed down, cutting
completely through bone and skin and sinew, severing his hand. It dropped into the
cauldron with a splash and Peter was left, clutching at his handless arm, his mouth
opened in a silent scream of agony. Harry winced, squeezing his eyes shut in a
moment of weakness as his brain tried informed him of how much that would have
likely hurt.
The potion was red now, and Harry turned his face back to it, staring at it, defying it
to act against him somehow. He didn't know this ritual, he had never studied it and
the fact that he didn't know what to expect scared him. As a Ravenclaw, he was
intelligent, he liked to learn and know things that no one else knew. He was studious.
He was supposed to be in control. He swallowed again. Pettigrew was walking
slowly towards him. Harry wished Evan had told him what would happen in more
detail. He wished he had thought to ask, but he hadn't, he had just trusted Evan like
always.
The dagger was pressed to his crook of his right arm. "Blood of the enemy,"
Pettigrew panted, still in terrible pain, "forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe."
That wasn't right, Harry thought. He wasn't Lord Voldemort's enemy. Why didn't they
use Cedric's blood if that was what the ritual required?
He gasped. A pain shot through him, beginning in his arm and travelling its way
down his spine and his legs. He clenched his teeth, refusing to cry out as Pettigrew
twisted the dagger in the gash he had made. A vial was pressed to the wound,

catching a few drops of blood, and then Pettigrew was walking back to the cauldron,
and emptying the vial over it. Whatever potion was in the cauldron suddenly turned a
blinding shade of white. His job done, Pettigrew fell to the ground, curled in on
himself and clutching at his bloody stump.
He must have taken a potion, Harry mused. Or he would have lost consciousness
some time ago.
Nothing happened for sometime. Ever the Ravenclaw, Harry found himself going
through ideas and suggestions, trying to think what Pettigrew might have done
wrong to botch the potion. Perhaps he used too much blood, or too little? Or maybe
he should have"
Harry's eyes widened, his brain quietened for a moment, before kicking into
overdrive. It had worked it seemed. How would Voldemort look? Did the potion work
properly? Who had brewed it, Snape maybe?
"Robe me," the same hissing voice commanded. Pettigrew dragged himself to his
feet, whimpering pitifully as he unfolded the black material that had been discarded
earlier. It was a robe, not a blanket as Harry had assumed originally, and it was old
and tattered but it appeared clean enough. Voldemort allowed it to be draped over
his naked body.
The man was thin, almost skeletal in appearance, and unnaturally tall as well. He
stepped out of the cauldron, his red eyes fixed on Harry's face and the teenager
stared back. He looked nothing like the Voldemort from Evan's stories, nothing like
Harry had imagined him too. This Voldemort was paler than paper, his skin stretched
tight over his flat, nose-less face, bald and a pink tongue licked at his lipless mouth
as he walked closer to the gravestone. Bony fingers reached out, caressing Harry's
face, and the Ravenclaw suppressed his urge to flinch backwards.
He had leant young that accepting punishment hurt a lot less than fighting against it.
"Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed, his voice strangely soothing as he stared down at
the fourteen year old. "If I may." He didn't say what he wanted and he didn't ask for
permission. Voldemort dropped to his knees before Harry, his face pressed to the
crook of his arm where the gash was still bleeding sluggishly, and his mouth closed
around the wound. Harry felt light-headed all of a sudden. He could feel Voldemort's
tongue flicking over his skin, his could feel the Dark Lord sucking on his arm, lapping
at his blood and swallowing it down. He shook his head, letting out a soft groan as
his vision blurred slightly.
Voldemort drew back. He smirked up at Harry, black eyelashes fluttered against his

pale cheeks as he allowed them to close briefly, before he rose fluidly to his feet.
"Thank you, Harry." He reached around behind Harry and untied the ropes the
Muggle way. "The dizziness will pass in a moment. I'm afraid Wormtail didn't use
enough of your blood as he should have. The ritual required a portion of your
magical essence, and that would have required a full vial of blood."
"Not just a few drops," Harry said, interrupting. "That's why you look the way you do
now."
Pettigrew looked over at him, eyes wide in horror. Someone had dared to speak to
Lord Voldemort so disrespectfully? The Dark Lord smirked, his mouth curving
upwards. The skin around his mouth was twisting and shifting, growing outwards and
plumping up, forming lips that were pale pink and puckered as Voldemort smiled.
"You are correct, child. Your blood will fix my appearance in its own time." Even then,
his hair was growing back. Long black strands appeared, falling to his ears with a
slight wave and Voldemort brushed it back gently.
He took Harry's hand. Voldemort led Harry away from the gravestone, and towards
the cauldron. With a wave of his hand he vanished the cauldron and its content and
the fire, and then he turned to Wormtail. "My wand," he said, his hand already
outstretched. When the wand was placed in his hand, his fingers (which were
already filling out) clenched around the wood, squeezing it, relishing in its familiarity.
He turned then, wand in hand, to look at Harry.
Harry lowered himself to the ground, eyes downcast, head bowed. "My Lord, allow
me the honour of serving you?"
Voldemort allowed a soft chuckle to escape him. "From what I have heard, you
already do."
"It makes Evan happy." Harry said negligently, still not looking up.
Red eyes widened. "Does it make you happy to serve me?" There was a teasing lilt
to his voice that even Pettigrew picked up on. Voldemort allowed his eyes to rake
over the form kneeling before him. Harry was beautiful undoubtedly, but if Barty Jr.
was to be believed someone already had Harry's attention.
Completely missing the leer Voldemort sent him, Harry looked up. He was frowning,
but he knew he had to answer honestly. "I don't know. I haven't served you long
enough, while in your presence, to make an informed decision."

"Now," Voldemort said seriously, "I see why you are wearing blue and grey robes."
He held a hand out and Harry took it into his own, allowing the Dark Lord to help him
to his feet. "It would please me to have you serve me, and support me." When Harry
made to speak, Voldemort pressed a finger to the boy's lips. "I wish for you to be
above my Death Eaters. You are not my equal, you are not equal to me in age or
experience but probably in power; so you shall be my heir. I have been told that was
what Rosier was training you for anyway." Harry gave a shallow nod, staying silent.
"I want you to understand, Harry. I am a cruel man. I will not be a father to you, and I
have no interest in you behaving like my son. You are a vessel, to learn from me, to
follow in my footsteps and lead my Death Eaters should I ever be out of commission.
We are not family, and I will punish you if need be."
"I understand, my Lord." Harry lowered himself slightly, curtsying, rather than bowing
again. Voldemort's grip on his face would not let him bow.
"You may call me Marvolo. It will make sure the Death Eaters know that you are
above them." By now his face had a nose, straight and regal. There were black
eyebrows on his face, nicely shaped but not too thin, and while his body seemed to
have gained some shape, fat or muscle or both, he was still freakishly tall. "Your
father wore glasses," Voldemort said suddenly. His fingers brushed the bridge of
Harry's nose, which was spectacle free.
"Evan gave me a potion to heal my vision. He said my glasses looked unseemly."
Harry gave a soft smile; thinking about Evan always made him happy.
A sudden hissing drew Harry's attention. He looked at the ground, eyes widening
slightly at the sight. A huge cobra had appeared, wriggling its way between
Voldemort's feet, its tongue flicking out to caress the man's ankles. The snake had
not been there when Harry first arrived, but he assumed it had been with Voldemort
all along. It couldn't have just gotten there, by itself.
"Nagini, this is Harry Potter. He is my heir; I wish to teach him everything I
know. You will be respectful towards him, and you are never to bite him."
The snake turned her head towards Harry, its forked tongue coming forward to taste
the air between them. "He looks like he would taste well, master, but I will not
eat him because you ask it."
"That is good to know," Harry said softly, smiling down at the cobra. Both the snake
and Voldemort's eyes widened, looking at him in shock. Voldemort had heard
rumours, told to him mostly by Peter, but hearing about it and hearing it first hand
were different matters.

"You are a Parseltongue." The Dark Lord stared at him, unblinkingly.

"Yes. Evan says I've been able to speak to snakes for as long as he has known me."
Harry gave another soft smile. Fortunately for him, not many people knew he shared
a trait with several dark Wizards. Life would be complicated then, he supposed,
should that particular secret ever come to light.
"My Lord," Wormtail suddenly interrupted, choking the words out through his sobs,
"you promised... you did promise!"
"Hold out your arm," the Dark Lord said, not looking away from Harry.
"Oh thank you, thank you, master," Pettigrew praised happily as he held out his
bloody stump. Harry grimaced at the sight of it.
"The other arm," Voldemort drawled lazily, laughing at Peter's moan of
disappointment. He reached forward, grabbing at Peter's left arm and pushing back
the sleeve. A mark that Harry was very familiar with stood out vividly against the skin
of Pettigrew's left forearm. The Dark Mark. A small tattoo in the shape of a skull with
a snake coming out of its mouth. Evan had one as well.
"It is back," Voldemort muttered to himself. "Now we shall see. How many dare
return, how many will be brave enough to come back to me." He smirked then, a
cruel glint flashed in his eyes and Harry's heart sped up again. "And how many will
be foolish enough to stay away."
His wand pressed against Peter's mark, and the shorter man gave a gasp of pain.
He tried to curl in on himself, to hug both arms to his chest, but Voldemort's grip was
too tight. In the end, Pettigrew sobbed, his arm held by Voldemort as he hung below
it, limp and in pain and trembling.
Cracks filled the air. Pops and their echoes rang through the graveyard. Harry looked
around in awe as shapes appeared out of fog, incorporeal at first, then mere
silhouettes, and suddenly visible and real. They seemed to fill the cemetery
completely. Along with all of the dead bodies, more and more Wizards were
appearing, hidden between gravestones and behind trees and pressing up against
one another. Each of them were masked, their faces hidden by white porcelain, and
they wore black robes their hoods raised to hide their hair.
All except for one.
"Harry!" Evan Rosier shouted, as he shoved his way to the front of the crowd. He
grabbed the teenager by the shoulders, pulling him into a rough hug and then

shoving him back just as quickly. As excited as he was, he didn't seem to notice
when Harry stumbled. Voldemort reached out to steady the boy. "How was it? What
happened? Did it wor-" Evan's eyes narrowed on the hand that rested on Harry's
arm. The gaze followed the arm upwards, finding the attached shoulder, then the
neck, until, eyes wide, Evan was looking at the face of Lord Voldemort. "It worked!"
He cried. He pulled Harry into a hug again, dragging him out of Voldemort's grip. "My
Lord, you've returned!"
"I know," the Dark Lord hissed. "I was there. As was Harry." His head turned, his red
eyes fixing on the others, the ones who hung back still. They watched the Dark Lord,
as if they did not believe their eyes. One by one they inched forward. Crawling on
their hands and knees they each kissed the robes of Lord Voldemort, before moving
back. They stood, forming a circle that completely surrounded Voldemort, Evan,
Harry, and the grave, and the sobbing form of Peter as well. There were gaps left in
the circle, but Voldemort did not seem to expect anyone else to arrive. Harry thought,
possibly, those spaces were left for the Death Eaters who were imprisoned. He
remembered Evan telling him stories of the Lestranges, and the Longbottoms, and
what had happened to both families.
Reluctantly, Evan let Harry go, and he took his position in the circle. Evan stood near
the centre, next to someone whose grey eyes peered intently at him through the slits
in his mask. Harry smiled back at that Death Eater, and the grey eyes fluttered
closed momentarily in relief.
"Welcome Death Eaters," Voldemort spoke, making his way around the circle,
unmasking his followers as he went. He drew their masks off one by one, starting
with the lowest ranking Death Eater and making his way up to Evan, the gap beside
him big enough for two people, and then the man with the grey eyes. "Thirteen years
since we last met. Yet you answered my call as though it was yesterday. We are still
united under the Dark Mark then? Or are we?" He sneered suddenly, throwing the
last mask to the ground in anger. "I smell guilt."
A pale face looked back at him, eyes wide and unfettered, allowing Voldemort to look
into his mind, to search for lies or secrets or unloyalty that did not exist. Pale blond
hair, almost silver in colour, framed his face, hanging to mid back, and looking as soft
as Harry knew it felt. Those grey eyes shone slightly, almost silver in the twilight as
well as he gazed at his Lord and then over to Harry.
"There is a stench of guilt upon the air." Voldemort finished, turning to stare at
someone else. Lucius Malfoy continued to watch Harry.
He suddenly spoke again. A shiver went through the crowd, as if each one of them

wanted to step back but didn't dare. "I see you all, whole and healthy, with your
powers intact and I ask myself, why did this band of Wizards never come to the aid
of their master? And I answer myself, they must have believed me broken, they
thought I was gone."
"Forgive us!" A voice cried. A man surged forward, his face flushed and his eyes
wide with fear. "Forgive us all." He clutched at Voldemort's robes. Evan snorted, a
smirk crossing his face as Voldemort raised his wand at Avery.
"Crucio." A scream, unlike any other Harry had ever heard before, rent the air. It was
louder still than the one Vernon had uttered as Evan dealt with him, though perhaps
not as desperate. The scream stopped, and panting filled the silence. Harry looked
down at the Death Eater. His face was flush, covered in a sheen of sweat, and he
twitched lightly on the ground. "Be silent, Avery," Voldemort commanded. "You ask
for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. I want thirteen years' repayment
before I forgive you. Wormtail here had paid some of his debt already, as has Evan."
All eyes flickered to Harry as Voldemort said this. Many of them wanted to know why
Potter was there and still alive, only three knew already. "Evan has paid of his debt
to me in full." He turned his attention back to Peter. "Worthless and treacherous as
you are, you helped me," Voldemort said as he reached down to grab Pettigrew's
right arm. "And Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers." He raised his wand and whirled
it through the air. A pool of molten silver swirled in the air, shapeless it floated
towards Wormtail's stump before morphing into a replica of a human hand. It
attached to the bleeding wrist, looking, silver and shinny, but as if it had always been
there.
"Thank you, thank you, master," the man sobbed, climbing to his feet.
"The Lestranges should stand here," the Dark Lord said, pointing at the space
between Lucius and Evan. "Come here Harry." When Harry was at his side,
Voldemort reached out to caress his cheek. Red eyes glinted as they noticed the
tightening of Lucius' fists, the tenseness in the man's stance the longer his hand
remained on Harry. So the rumours were true. "What do you know of the
Lestranges?"
"They tortured the Longbottoms into insanity, bar their disgrace of a son, and are
now in Azkaban Prison."
"That will do." He said suddenly. The hand on Harry's face pushed softly, and Harry
taking the hint took two steps backwards, out of reach. "They were faithful. They
went to Azkaban rather than renounce me. When Azkaban is broken open, the

Lestranges will be honoured beyond their dreams." He walked silently passed

others, spoke to four other men and then stopped in the largest gap yet. "Three dead
in my service," he said softly, "one, too cowardly to return, he will pay. One, who I
believe has left me forever; he will be killed, of course. And one, who remains my
most faithful servant, and who has already re-entered my service."
Harry watched the Death Eaters look at each other, trying to decide between them
who of those missing and still alive could be this 'most faithful' person.
"Alastor Moody," Harry said suddenly, grinning over at Evan. "Who is he really?" He
asked Voldemort.
The Dark Lord smirked, cruel and cold as he turned his whole body to face Harry
again. He strode away from the gap and caught the teenager by the neck. His
fingers tightened but Harry didn't flinch or struggle and after a moment Voldemort let
him go. Lucius was gripping at Evan's arm, stopping the man from doing something
stupid. "You are a very clever child." Voldemort said at length.
"I spent years living with Evan under constant Polyjuice cover. I think I'm used to it
enough by now to know when someone is pretending to be someone else." Harry
was still grinning, even as he rubbed at his throat. "Who is he?"
"You will find out soon. He has orders to see to you when you return to Hogwarts."
He turned to face his Death Eaters again. He continued to speak, and as he spoke,
Harry moved to stand in the gap left by the Lestranges. One hand reached out to
hold Evan's, squeezing it lightly. The other hand reached out to the other side, his
fingers just brushing against the back of Lucius' hand, and as the blond looked down
at him Harry gave him a soft smile.
Voldemort suddenly stopped talking. His red eyes were fixed on Lucius' face.
"Something you wish to share, Malfoy?"
Lucius bowed his head, muttering apologies and begging forgiveness, as Harry
frowned. Harry's mouth opened. Evan's nails dug into the back of Harry's hand, and
the boy's mouth closed again.
"Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party." Voldemort said, changing
the subject suddenly. Everyone turned to look at Harry again, except Evan who was
watching the Dark Lord warily. "One might go so far as to call him my guest of
honour." His smirked maliciously at Harry then, and the teenager swallowed
convulsively. A finger crooked at him, and Harry walked forward warily, following
Voldemort's silent command. When they were close enough to touch, Voldemort
spun him around and dragged Harry against him, back to chest. "Ah, my story, and

what a story it is. It begins, and ends, with my young friend here. But the story is too
long, and Harry must be getting back to Hogwarts soon, so perhaps you will hear it
another time, if Rosier humours you."
Brown eyes looked back at him stonily; the only Death Eater who did not fear pain or
death, and so feared Lord Voldemort less than the others as a result.
"Harry, here, was raised as some of you may know by Muggles. What you may not
know, is that Rosier actually was the one to raise young Harry. Harry will be, and has
always been, my heir. You will all treat him as such, is that understood?"
"Yes, my Lord," they all chorused.
Voldemort smiled. His hand pressed down on Harry's forehead and the boy
screamed as pain flared through his entire being. He flailed in Voldemort's grasp,
thrashing desperately to escape from the hold and the pain. "That will have to be
remedied," Voldemort whispered as he pushed Harry away from him.
The ground rushed towards him, but before Harry could land on it, two arms
encircled his waist, pulling him up and cradling him gently.
"So the rumours are true," Voldemort mused out loud. He had expected Rosier to
jump forward and catch Harry, but not Lucius. The fact that Lucius had disregarded
his composure, ignored his pride, dived into the dirt before them all to catch Potter,
well, it went to show that he must care deeply about the younger Wizard. "I did not
realize you preferred children, my friend. I shall have to make some available to you
on our next adventure."
Lucius looked up at him, worry evident in his eyes. "What did you do?"
"It seems that my touch pains him."
"Only his scar." Evan said suddenly. He walked forward, unconcerned that there
were people listening and watching him. "His scar is cursed, and it pains him
sometimes when your emotions are heightened. I have taught him Occlumency,
what I know of it, and that helps, my Lord."
Voldemort took in Evan's words, but did not reply to them. He crouched down, before
Lucius and Harry, and pushed back the teenager's fringe. His scar was raw looking,
red and there was a smear of blood across it.
"I apologize." He whispered in Parseltongue. With a nod, Harry accepted it,
because he knew the Dark Lord would never apologize to him if anyone else could

understand. He was surprised his pain had been noticed at all, really. Lord
Voldemort didn't seem as bad as Headmaster Dumbledore made him out to be. "It is
time to be getting back to Hogwarts, Harry."
"Yes Marvolo." A gasp came from most of the Death Eaters, but glares from Lucius
and Evan kept them from speaking out of turn.
"Are you ok?" Lucius asked him softly, when Voldemort had walked away from them.
His lips brushed gently over Harry's scar, the feather light touch soothing the pain
that still throbbed through Harry's head.
"I'm fine." The boy whispered, tilting his head up automatically.
"Liar." The blond's lips were pressed to Harry's own then, slim fingers tangling into
the long locks, drawing Lucius closer to him.
"Accio," a voice called, and through his daze Harry recognized it as Voldemort's.
Lucius had just enough control left to rip himself away from Harry before the Portkey
slammed into the boy's stomach. A whoosh of air left the brunette, his eyes widened
slightly as a body hit him, then narrowed at Voldemort's amused face. "Goodbye, for
now, my Harry." The Dark Lord waved at him, just as the world began to spin again.
When the world stopped spinning, he was lying on his back. The Portkey lay on top
of him, and beside him was Cedric Diggory's corpse. He remembered Voldemort
waving at him, he remembered the feel of Lucius' lips on his, Evan hugging him
tightly, and he tried not to smile. Harry was always told he was a bit like a Caterpillar
and one day he'd be a Butterfly too.
As Dumbledore's face appeared above his own, Harry forced tears to his eyes, still
fighting back a smile.
It seemed as if he had finally emerged from his cocoon.
XXX
* * *
Some of Voldemort's speech to his Death Eaters was taken from Goblet of Fire.
You'll have recognized it.
Thank you very much for reading. It'll be a while before we get to the Lucius/Harry,
so bare with me.

Chapter 1
Thank you to everyone who reviewed.
A brief note: This is not A Life of Lies. I had this idea years ago, but never found time
to write it, nor ever came up with a suitable Death Eater. After reading A Life of Lies,
I liked the idea of Evan Rosier. I asked for permission to use him and I received it.
But I never once claimed that Rosier would be insane, nor that he would be anything
like the Evan from A Life of Lies. This is not A Life of Lies, bare that in mind.
Also, this is not a threesome fiction. Lucius/Harry is the main pairing, but Harry will
possibly have a fling of sorts with Draco.
* * *
Words: 3,153
Chapter 1
August 12th 1985. Little Whinging.
The wind rushed past him, knocking him off course, but he turned his body to the
side, flapped his wings, and continued to fly. It was raining heavily: fat, wet drops
falling from the sky and pelting against him. The drops were almost as large as him,
and the butterfly did its best to swerve and avoid each one. If one hit him, he would
fall a few inches, shake himself off and rise up again, beating his wings furiously. His
body shivered as a bolt of lightening streaked passed him. The wind howled again,
and he was caught in it. He found himself being swept to the side, and if he could
have screamed as a butterfly he would have.
He fell, and despite how hard he tried to fly, he couldn't. Eyes widening, he found
himself going straight towards a tree. He flapped his wings, but the wind blew again,
at precisely the wrong moment, and he was blown sideways again. He closed his
eyes, preparing to change back, perhaps expose himself but at least it would save
the butterfly from being crushed against the tree. But something grabbed him.
The hold was gentle. One hand reached out and plucked him nimbly out of the air.
The second hand cupped over the first, shielding him from the rain but also
preventing the butterfly from flying away.
A pair of green eyes peered down at him between the gap in the child's fingers. A
small smile stretched across the boy's lips, and he blinked. Raindrops fell off of his

eyelashes and his fringe was plastered to his forehead. He was trembling, but he
continued to smile at the butterfly.
"My name is Harry," the child told him. "I'll take care of you." Harry sat on the ground,
tucked in the alcove between the front door of a house and the front steps. His
knees were pressed to his chest and the butterfly remained held safe and warm in
Harry's hands, all night.
The storm had stopped by morning, and when the front door of the house opened, a
tall, skinny woman popped her head through the gap and glared. "Wake up, freak!"
She hollered and Harry jumped, snapping into wakefulness and standing
immediately to his feet. "Take those wet clothes off and get in here. You have fifteen
minutes to make breakfast, boy." She left the door open, and walked away.
Harry uncapped his hands. The butterfly fluttered its wings softly, and the child
smiled. "Well, go on then, fly away." The butterfly did as it was told, and Harry
watched it go with longing, before turning and entering the house.
As the door closed behind Harry, a tall man stood beside the tree that had nearly
crushed the butterfly and watched silently.
XXX
August 13th 1985.
It was strange, Evan Rosier mused later that night. Most boys Harry's age would
have ripped off the butterfly's wings, or crushed it, or allowed it to hit the tree. But
Harry had saved the creature, sheltered it and set it free. He stood, beside the tree,
watched Number 4 with a frown on his face.
There was something about the boy that was familiar to him. The sight of him, the
hair, the eyes, the face, they all reminded him of someone he should know, but did
not personally. Someone whom he would have never bothered to remember, but
was now wishing he had. But there was something else. He couldn't be sure, not yet,
but the child was magical. He could sense the boy's aura, bright and magical and
lashing out around Harry in waves, warding off most of the rain and the chill from the
night before. Something about his magic was familiar as well, dark and comforting. It
reminded Evan of a time before Harry Potter had destroyed everything.
There would be plenty of time to think on the child's magic, Evan told himself,
shaking those thoughts from his head. His eyes fluttered shut, and that familiar
tingling feeling spread across his skin as his body shrunk and changed. Wings
sprouted from his back, antenna appeared on his forehead, and fur covered his

short, skinny body. Two large, beady eyes peered out from the fur on his face, and
the butterfly beat its wings and flew towards the open window of Number 4, Privet
Drive.
The house appeared to be empty. Evan saw no body as he flew around, popping in
and out of rooms, stopping to rest on furniture and generally investigate his future
home. Ever since the defeat of Lord Voldemort Evan, as a Death Eater, had been
hunted by the Ministry. Going from Ministry official and Inner Circle supporter of the
Dark Lord, to a fugitive forced to hide as his animagus form " the butterfly " was quite
a shock to his system. Over the last four years, Evan had barely spent any time in
his human form. Quick moments here and there, snatched hours when he was
absolutely sure he was alone. Being a butterfly conserved more energy, he needed
to eat less, his hiding places were less obvious, and he was generally safer. But, he
decided, it was time to put down roots of some sort.
If this child, who was obviously being mistreated, was magical, then he couldn't be
living with his natural parents. Unless it was a Mudblood, but Harry's magic felt too
strong for that. Maybe the child was important? Or an orphan from the war, though if
so Evan would have likely suggested his parents were dark supporters. The aura the
child had given off the night before was strong and dark, and oh so familiar, but Evan
just could not remember where he had felt it before.
He flew past the cupboard under the stairs, and paused. He hovered in mid air,
beating his wings slowly to keep himself afloat, and he gazed at the slitted vent on
the cupboard door. He could make out a small head of black hair, and he could hear
the muffled sobs the child let out.
He had the urge to change, to rip the door open and demand to know why the hell
those Muggles thought they would get away with abusing a Wizard. But he knew
better than that. He hadn't been a Slytherin at Hogwarts for nothing. He would be
cool, calm and collected, sly and suspicious, cynical and calculated, and he would
never, never let his guard down until such a time as the child proved himself just as
cunning and cruel as Evan could be. He would bind his time for now, he promised
himself as he flew passed the door. He would wait to see how useful the child would
be to him. If the child were of use, he would protect the child himself. If the child was
not of use, he would make an anonymous call to the Ministry, and he would leave
the house and the child behind him.
He made his way into the kitchen. There was a door open to his left, just beside a
large refrigerator. He flew down the stairs, and into a large wide-open space. The
basement was dusty, and damp, but it would do well enough for a while. Evan
changed back, rolling his shoulders and head to work out the kink in his neck. He

took a look around, his hand out but his fingers not quite touching anything, but his
eyes were wide and watchful, wary. Nothing appeared to be magical, and nothing
appeared to be dangerous.
It was widely know that he was on of Lord Voldemort's top Death Eaters, along with
Malfoy and the Lestranges. What many people didn't know was why. Evan had
always found it incredibly useful to be able to sense people's auras. He was very
good at catching people out under invisibility cloaks, or Polyjuice potion, or
disillusionment charms. He could tell if they were light or dark orientated, or neutral,
or scared, angry, happy, or any variation of those. Their auras would flare up, the
feeling their magic gave out would change, and Evan would pick up on it and report
directly to his Lord. Not only that, but he was among the scant few Wizards and
Witches who could perform wandless magic effortlessly. Anyone could master a nonverbal spell with time and practise, but it took true power and skill to cast a spell
wandlessly.
Evan waved his hand, and a light flickered into being above his head. Another wave
of his hand set up Muggle repelling wards around the door leading to the basement,
and a third wave removed the dust and dirt from the floor and the boxes that were
scattered around. There was a mattress propped against the wall, and Evan lowered
it to the floor, pressing against it to check the springs. After deeming it suitable, he
laid down on it, blanket less, and closed his eyes. He could have transfigured it in to
something more fancy and pompous but he decided against it. If this child wasn't
orphaned, he didn't want to run the risk of other magical family members coming to
check on the boy. It wouldn't do for them to find any evidence of his existence.
He was still awake three hours later when he heard the front door open and slam
shut again. A loud banging echoed down to him, and a voice screamed, "Stop crying
you freak!" It was suddenly silent then for just a moment, before another door
opened and a cry rang out. Evan recognized the noise of skin against skin, and his
nails dug into the palms of his hands as he fought with himself. He would not
interfere. He could not interfere, despite how much the cries of Harry were tugging at
him. It was quite soon after, the Muggle had obviously finished beating the little boy,
and Evan allowed himself to relax just a bit.
Tomorrow, in the morning, he would find out more about Harry. And he would decide
what to do from thereon.
XXX
August 15th 1985.

When the Muggles left the house the morning before, Evan had flown around,
searching for Harry but he hadn't been there. He had spent the night lying flat on his
mattress, squeezing the edges of it harshly as he listened to two Muggles screaming
abuse at Harry. Fortunately, Evan didn't hear them hitting the child this time, so while
Harry spent the night crying, he wasn't busied and beaten.
The male Muggle left the house early this morning, possibly going to work. The
woman left shortly after with their Muggle child, talking about shopping and signing
him up for primary school in September. Harry had stood silently in the doorway of
the kitchen, his hands covered by rubber gloves that dripped water onto his feet. He
had paused in his washing of the dishes so he could watch jealously as Dudley was
taken out of the house and he was once again left behind.
The butterfly landed on the kitchen windowsill. Harry noticed it as he stopped in front
of the sink again. It was small, with a short fluffy body. It's wings were a deep green,
with splashes of brown across them, and Harry thought it was beautiful. A smile
spread on Harry's face.
"Hello again. Are you the same butterfly?" He pulled off his gloves, and very slowly
reached out one finger. It was a centimetre away from Evan when a puff of wind
blew in through the open window and ruffled Harry's fringe. Evan caught the barest
glimpse of Harry's lightening bolt scar and anger surged through him. This child, this
boy who he had pitied and wanted desperately to protect, was the reason he was
forced to hide as an insect! He surged into the air, and out through the open window.
Harry lowered his arm slowly. Tears sprung to his eyes, but he blinked them back.
He had enough to cry about in his life; he didn't need to cry over bugs as well. So
what if even a butterfly couldn't stand to be in his presence?
XXX
August 25th 1985.
It took ten days for Evan to calm down.
At first he felt mildly pleased to know that the cause of Lord Voldemort's downfall
was being punished " by Muggles, but punished nonetheless. It took three days for
him to realize that filthy Muggles didn't have the right to punish any Wizard, not even
the Boy-Who-Lived. Two more days made him realize that he was angry with the
Muggles and not with Harry anymore. It was the seventh day he had been away that
he decided he might have been hasty in leaving the warm, rain free basement he
had spent three days hiding in. It was last night that Evan finally stopped denying
that fact that what had happened to him, and to Lord Voldemort, was not Harry's

fault. The boy had been a year old; it would have been impossible for him to plan
any sort of attack against the Dark Lord.
When Evan woke up this morning he realized that Harry could become of very much
use to him, if taught correctly.
The butterfly settled onto the mattress in the basement of Number 4. Evan didn't
bothered to look around before he changed. The Muggles were unable to bypass his
wards, and Harry was almost always locked in the cupboard under the stairs. He lay
back against the mattress, his eyes closing despite the fact that it was only noon,
and he drifted into a light doze.
Outside the house, Harry attempted to garden. The child was five years old, and he
had been living with the Dursley family for little under four years. Since he was tall
enough to reach the stove, they forced Harry to cook. Since he was able to carry
buckets full of water, they forced Harry to clean. And they always made Harry do the
gardening, whether it was sunny or raining, since he was old enough to tell the
difference between a weed and a flower.
He pushed the small spade into the dirt and wriggled it harshly. The ground
loosened, and Harry reached down and tugged up the weed by the roots. He threw it
into the bucket beside him. Moments later, the weed flew back at him and hit him in
the head.
Beside him, his cousin, Dudley chuckled loudly, reaching into the bucket for another
weed.
"Stop it!" Harry whispered as Dudley threw a lump of dirt at his head.
Dudley just laughed again. He paused suddenly, eyes wide as a pure white butterfly
landed on the daffodil just beside Harry's hand. Dudley smirked, and Harry watched
him warily, wondering what he was going to do. "Look, a butterfly." The fatter child
said, "Did you make a wish?"
"You don't wish on butterflies," Harry whimpered, cringing back as Dudley glared at
him.
"You do so." Another glare. "Did you make one?"
Dudley dived forward suddenly, faster than Harry had ever seen him move, and he
snatched the butterfly right off of the daffodil. Harry looked at the butterfly, hoping
that Dudley wouldn't hurt it, but he knew that was a futile wish. So instead, he
wished for a friend. "Yes," he breathed softly.

"It doesn't count,"1 Dudley said snidely, standing up. He squeezed his hand tightly,
and Harry imagined he could hear the butterfly's body being broken and crushed into
pieces. In his imagination, it sounded like the crackling of a fire. When Dudley
opened his hand, he leant forward and wiped the sticky mess onto the back of
Harry's shirt. "Freaks don't get to make wishes." He went back inside.
Harry watched him go and frowned. He brushed at his back, and cringed as he felt
what was left of the insect. One wing fluttered to the ground and Harry stared at it,
still pure white, and felt tears rising.
The moment he re-entered the house, his aunt Petunia grabbed a fist full of his hair
and dragged him into the kitchen. She pushed him against the fridge, and Harry
gave a soft whimper as she glared down at him. "What did you do, boy?" She
snarled. "Why can't I go into the basement?"
Muggles who did not know about magic would have been turned away from anything
warded with Muggle-repelling charms, having completely forgotten why they had
wanted to enter the place to begin with. However, Muggles who knew of magic, such
as Petunia Dursley, found her path blocked without reason, but could still remember
that she wanted to go into the basement.
"Get in there, boy," she hissed as she flung open the door. She shoved between
Harry's shoulders and he stumbled, almost falling down the stairs except he had
managed to grab onto the railing with one hand. "Clean the entire place, and then
undo whatever freaky thing you did." She turned and left him there. Slowly, Harry
went back into the kitchen. He grabbed the bucket of cleaning products from the
cupboard under the sink and carried it down into the basement with him.
There was a man lying on the spare mattress that Harry had heaved down into the
basement two months ago. Harry's breath catch in his throat as he watched the man
breathing softly, asleep. He left the bucket on the ground and walked over, quietly so
as not to wake him, and he smiled as one hand moved forward to brush back the
shoulder length brown hair.
A hand suddenly grabbed at his wrist and Harry froze, his fingers still on Evan's hair.
"Hello," the child whispered as brown eyes narrowed.
"Hello Harry," Evan said as he sat up. He was tense, ready to spring into action and
defend himself if he had to.
"My wish came true." Harry breathed. "Dudley was wrong." The boy let out a soft
giggle, his green eyes flashing in pleasure.

"You wished for me?" Evan asked curiously. His free hand came forward to brush
Harry's fringe away from his forehead, baring the scar.
"I wanted a friend, and here you are." Harry thought about jumping forward and
hugging the man but decided not to press his luck. After all, Dudley never hugged
any of his invisible friends.
Evan watched him curiously, finally letting go of Harry's arm, and he folded his own
hands in his lap. A slow smirk spread across his face as he though about the
possibilities being offered to him. He could be the one to raise and mould the BoyWho-Lived. If he took care of Harry, no doubt Harry would take care of him in return,
and if the Dark Lord never resurfaced he would need Harry to keep him out of
Azkaban.
"Yes, Harry," Evan drawled slowly, still smirking, "I'm your friend. My name is Evan."
XXX
1 " This is actually a poem, but I don't remember the author. Sorry.
* * *
Thank you for reading, please leave a review. I'll try and update more often now, and
I will definitely do The Lambs as well, because all of my assignments are over. Deep
sigh of relief!

Chapter 2
Thanks for all of the reviews for the last chapter. Sorry that this took so long.
* * *
Words: 3,815
Chapter 2
August 25th 1985. Little Whinging.
Evan. His name was Evan Rosier. His friend's name was Evan Rosier. His friend.
His. Harry's friend's name was Evan Rosier.
The child smiled shyly, his fringe hanging in his eyes and he kept his face down
turned. But Evan could see the smile. "I have a friend," the child breathed out quietly.
Evan winced, a painful feeling welled up inside of him but he pushed it down,
battered it until it was gone. He could feel pity and sympathy but anything more was
too much. He did not have the time to care for this child. He was here with Harry for
one reason.
Self-preservation demanded it.
Evan knew things that others often didn't. It was one of the perks of being one of the
Dark Lord's favourites. Unlike Bellatrix Lestrange, Evan didn't believe in boasting
about his achievements, about the favour Lord Voldemort bestowed upon him, or
bragging in general. He worked hard for the rewards he reaped; he earned them. He
didn't feel the need to defend himself in that respect.
The Dark Lord feared death. It was his one weakness in the man's own mind. But
there were ways to cheat death, though all of them were barely any better than
death. Unicorn blood, Necromancy, Horcruxes; all were cursed and dangerous.
Sometimes, it was just better to die, Evan thought. But Voldemort didn't think the
same way. He was determined to live forever, to rule forever.
Bellatrix had often spoken of the family 'heirloom' her Lord had bid her protect. She
had placed the golden cup in her husband's Gringotts Vault, and it had remained
there for nearly five years now. Evan believed it to be a Horcrux. Lucius Malfoy had a
diary. Neither Bellatrix nor Lucius knew what it was they possessed. Evan shouldn't
have known either, but he was once offered a ring to take care of. And though he
turned the Dark Lord down, he had glimpsed enough of the object to read its aura.

It was magical, certainly. And dark. Even darker than his Lord, if such a thing were
possible. The ring felt, not evil, but not right either. There was something off about
the object, and Evan knew that even without it possessing a fragment of Voldemort's
soul there would be something magically sinister about the ring.1 That was three
Horcruxes that Evan knew of. Undoubtedly, if anyone were crazy enough to make
more than three, it would have been Lord Voldemort. Evan believed inexplicably that
there was more out there, somewhere, hidden in places only Voldemort would know
to look.
Or Dumbledore.
Evan turned his head to look at Harry. The boy froze with his mouth open.
Apparently, he had been talking, though Evan hadn't heard a word of it lost as he
was in his thoughts, and now Harry waited to be reprimanded.
"Continue," Evan said at last, when Harry continued to be silent. The boy scuffed his
toes against the floor and hesitantly moved to sit beside Evan on the mattress. His
short legs stretched out in front of him and he giggled. "What is it?"
"My toes only reach your knees." Harry whispered. His voice was soft, but
endearing. Evan felt that he could never become annoyed with listening to Harry
speak. Bellatrix's voice irritated his ears, Narcissa's granted on his nerves, Nott's
voice just made him want to kill things. But Harry's voice was perfect, Evan thought,
for singing or reading a story until someone fell asleep. Hypnotic.
"Do you sing?" The Death Eater said suddenly. Harry's eyes widened. He looked
around nervously, but didn't shake or nod his head. "Do you know any songs?" Harry
gave a slow nod of his head. "Will you sing it for me? I promise I won't laugh." Harry
remained silent still, and Evan began to feel his patience wearing. "I'm your friend."
That seemed to do the trick, because Harry immediately sat up straighter and
squared his shoulders. He was so proud of having a friend that Evan felt partially
guilty for using the word to make Harry do what he wanted. "Early one morning," the
boy began. He paused to gage Evan's reaction, but the man just smiled at him. "Just
as the sun was ri-sing, I heard a maid sing in the vall-ey below." His voice was soft,
musical, and Evan was pleased.
As Harry sang, Evan could see him gaining confidence. With a wide smirk the Death
Eater studied the boy's magic. Hs aura flared up in excitement as he launched into
the chorus, "Oh don't deceive me," and it was a brilliant blend of emerald green and
gold. "Oh never leave me."2 Evan let Harry sing, even though he had stopped
listening after the first few words. It was something that would distract Harry long

enough for Evan to study him. If Harry continued with his monologue he would
eventually expect an answer that Evan would be unable to give him, but if Harry
sang, and when he finished, all Evan would have to say would be, "wow brilliant,"
and the child would be pleased. Evan had no intention of making himself look like a
bad imaginary friend during their first meeting.
Harry's aura was powerful, which Evan already knew. It still felt familiar to him but he
had yet to learn why. Harry's happiness, his confidence, didn't seem to stir the darker
aspects of the child's aura. Perhaps he would have to observe Harry when he was
angry or afraid?
XXX
August 28th 1985.
Evan had not seen Harry for two full days. After Harry had finished singing, he had
been called back up to the house and he had gone rather unwillingly. It was a little
easier to make the child answer his aunt after Evan promised to be there the next
time Harry came back to the basement. But Harry hadn't come back yet.
There had been a bang once the basement door was closed. Harry had cried out
and Evan had looked up the stairs, listening for another cry or slap or bang but none
had come. He had heard mumbling, hushed conversation between two people,
presumably the two adult Dursleys, and then a car had backed out of the driveway.
Evan had flown up the stairs and into the kitchen. He had waited, perched on the
windowsill above the sink, and when the car came back, Harry wasn't in it.
He told himself that there was nothing to worry about. After all, why would he be
worried about someone he barely knew, despite the fact that he was a sweet
innocent child who was being abused, and was probably afraid and abandoned, or
dead at the side of the road, or "
No. He told himself there was nothing to worry about, and he went back to the
basement and he waited. Harry hadn't come yesterday, or today. Even Evan could
admit to growing a little worried at this point. Perhaps he should fly up there and
listen in on any of their discussions? He could often hear them mumbling about 'the
freak' and something about the basement, and Evan could only guess that Harry had
been punished somehow for not being able to take down the wards Evan had raised.
The doorbell rang.
Footsteps echoed above his head, as someone ran to answer the door. Evan

exhaled loudly, relieved more than he cared to admit, when he heard Harry's voice.
He was sitting at the door at the top of the stairs, listening through the keyhole. He
wandlessly cast a 'Sonorous' in the direction of the Muggles.
Mrs Figg lived two streets down from the Dursleys and whenever the Dursleys
wanted to go out somewhere they always left Harry with the old woman. Evan
sniffed lightly, pressing his face closer to the door as if he could see through it. He
could feel it, a brief tickling across his skin, just like after you give yourself an electric
shock. The woman was magical, he could tell that much. Though he doubted she
had much in the way of power. A Squib then, he decided. She couldn't be much of a
threat to him.
The Squib was the one who was speaking now. "Petunia! I don't understand how it
could have happened."
"I told you," the horse-faced woman hissed. "He is a very clumsy child. He fell down
the basement stairs."
"Strange." Mrs Figg mused out loud, "For he never fell once the two days he spent
with me."
"Yes well," Vernon Dursley said, clearing his throat. "Boys will be boys."
"Are you implying that your son pushed him down the stairs, sir?" She asked again,
narrowing her eyes. Harry stood at her side, trembling lightly. His left arm was in a
cast, and there was a patch of black on it that once read 'get well soon' but had since
half rubbed off in the rain.
"How- How dare you speak of my Dudders like that!" Petunia shrieked. She grabbed
the woman by the shoulders and began to push her out of the house. "Get out, get
out now. How dare you come into my house and speak about my son like that!"
"Very well I'll leave. But should something like this happen again, I promise you, I
won't be bringing him back." Mrs Figg turned and strode away, without so much as a
goodbye to Harry.
The child flinched back as Vernon spoke. "All the more reason to break his other
arm," the man muttered to his wife.
She glanced at him, and then at Harry as if she was considering it, but then she
looked out of the door. Mrs Figg was standing at the end of their driveway, staring at
her. Petunia cringed and slammed the door shut. "Go to your cupboard."

XXX
August 29th 1985.
"Where were you?" Harry asked Evan the following day. His aunt had let him out of
the cupboard under the stairs where he slept and told him to clean the upstairs
bathroom. As Harry was cleaning, Vernon received a phone call from Grunnings, the
company he worked for, and they all went out to some sort of meeting. Harry was
forgotten about again, which was a good thing this time as it meant that he wasn't
locked back up.
"I was here. Where were you?"
"I was at Mrs Figg's house. She's a little strange," the child blushed guiltily as he said
that, "but she's a lot nicer to me than, well, them."
"Why were you at the Squibs house?"
Harry thought about asking what a 'Squib' was, but decided to answer his friend's
question first. "They said I did something to the door. My aunt couldn't get into the
basement, and they said it was my fault. I told them I didn't do anything, that maybe
she was pushing the door the wrong way. I should have known better. I shouldn't
have talked back. My uncle, he pushed me, and I tripped over the brush and fell on
my arm. I hit my head as well, but the bruise already healed. They don't like it when
people see me hurt. They always send me to Mrs Figg's house when they go out or
when I get hurt too badly."
"How often do they hurt you badly?" Evan asked calmly. Inside he desperately
wanted to kill the Muggles, but outwardly he looked like he wasn't affected in the
least by what Harry was telling him.
The boy pursed his lips as he thought. He counted on his fingers and then held them
up to Evan. "Four times I think. But once it was Ripper. He's aunt Marge's dog. I
don't like them either."
"I see." Evan said. His fingernails bit into the palms of his hands. A trickle of blood
appeared and ran down one of Evan's wrists, and if Harry noticed he didn't say
anything. Instead, he smiled softly, and leant forward as Evan reached out to brush
his hair back.
"Evan," he asked hesitantly. The Death Eater nodded. "What's a Squib?"
"I'll tell you when you are older, child," Evan said with a chuckle. "Now, before I send

you back upstairs, what school do you attend?"

"I don't go to school. Dudley is in his first year at the Primary school six streets over,
but freaks aren't allowed my aunt says." Evan made a displeased humming noise.
"But it doesn't matter cause I can count to ten, and I can read some words anyway,
and I know all my shapes-"
"How many sides does an octagon have?" Evan interrupted with a smug expression.
Harry trailed off, looking extremely puzzled. "Uh, I know most of my shapes," he
corrected. "And you said I could sing. Dudley can't sing. So I don't really need to go
to school, right?"
"Of course you do. But in the mean time, count to ten for me." Harry did so with
ease. "What comes after ten?"
"Twelve? Eleven! Eleven does. And then twelve?"
"Yes, Harry, and then?"
Evan continued to question Harry for the next two hours, asking him the order of
numbers, the spelling of words, directions, shapes, colours, anything he could think
of. Harry learnt quickly. If he didn't know the answer he would say so, and when
Evan told him it he memorized it almost at once, repeating the answer to himself
twice before telling Evan he was ready to move the lesson along.
When the Dursleys were in bed, and Harry was locked back in his cupboard, Evan
flew into the kitchen. He landed on the floor and waited calmly while the change took
place. Shifting from man to butterfly to man came as easy as breathing to the
Wizard; he had been doing it for so often. The human brushed down his robes. Evan
had spent so little time as a human in the past four years that his robes barely
looked worn, though he had been wearing them since the night the Aurors broke into
his home to arrest him.
Evan frowned as he looked around the hallway and rooms. There were family
portraits everywhere, from the walls, to the bookcases and side tables, hung over
the doors and balanced on top of the TV and radio. None of them included Harry. If
Evan hadn't spoken to Harry for himself, he would never know the boy lived here, or
even existed.
He found the yellow pages quickly enough. Four years of hiding in the Muggle world,
even as an insect was plenty of time to learn the basics about how Muggles
communicated. He doubted that social services would enjoy an owl flying in through

their window this late in the day. It wasn't actually that late, he thought to himself, but
everyone knew Muggles were weird.
He found the phone number he was looking for and he picked up the phone and
dialled. He let the phone ring, tapping his fingers lightly against the side table.
Evan was standing directly in front of the cupboard under the stairs, where Harry
was probably asleep, dreaming of a better family. How was it that Harry had ended
up here anyway? Evan thought back, trying to remember everything he knew about
Harry's family.
His mother, Lily, was Muggleborn, and these vile Muggles were obviously relatives of
hers. James Potter, his father, was an only child. James' parents had died the year
before Harry was born, and Evan recalled that while Voldemort had received the
blame, the explosion that collapsed part of Potter Manor had not actually been on his
Lord's orders. Lily's parents were presumably dead. Petunia never spoke of them,
and there were no pictures of anyone but Vernon, Petunia and Dudley in the house.
It was like she had no other family, wanted no other family. Did Harry have any
godparents? There was the Longbottom woman, but she was hardly a capable
guardian. Driven to insanity by Bellatrix, Alice and her husband now both resided in
St Mungos, and were incapable of raising their own son, let alone Harry Potter.
Evan thought he heard Fenrir Greyback once mention that one of the pups he turned
had a godchild. The pup was a friend of James', but Evan doubted that even Potter
was a fool enough to leave his child to a werewolf. As a pureblood, James should
have known that Harry would never have been placed in a werewolf's care by the
Ministry, regardless if that was what his will wanted.
It really appeared as if there was no one else to care for Harry.
Evan snorted; the idea seemed ludicrous. Surely there was someone out there
willing to look after the Boy-Who-Lived? As closely related as all Purebloods were,
how could there not be someone still alive who would be a relative of Harry's?
"Sorry, hello?" A voice asked through the phone.
Evan scowled down at it. He pursed his lips, then cleared his throat and said, "yes,
hello. I would like to report that I know of a child who is being purposely kept out of
the education system."
"How old is this child?"
"He was five last month. He lives with his aunt, and her family, in Little Whinging,

Surrey."
"May I have your name and telephone number, please sir?" The woman asked.
"I would like to remain anonymous, but the child's name is Harry Potter. He lives at
Number 4, Privet Drive." Evan hung up the phone with a smile. As he walked passed
the cupboard he pressed his hand over the grill, stroking it lightly with his fingertips.
He didn't say anything. He stood for a few more moments, listening to Harry's light
breathing through the door, before he walked back down into the basement.
Evan lay himself down onto the mattress, folding his hands behind his head as he
looked up at the ceiling. He soon lost himself in thoughts of Harry, and Lord
Voldemort, and what his future might bring. Maybe, one day, he might take Harry
away from here. He had never considered himself parent material. He had never
much liked children, or anyone for that matter to be honest, but children had always
been nothing more than a way to keep bloodlines going in his eyes.
Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, Nott; they all had children to carry on their names.
And for the most part, from what he had seen, they were decent enough parents as
well as strict Heads of Houses. Nott admittedly was a crap father. He treated his
eldest son the same way Evan had always imaged he would behave around a child
of his own. Nott acted like the boy wasn't there. The House Elves reared him, fed
him, clothed him, and his mother was dead. Nott's second son, with his new wife,
would probably be in Harry's year at Hogwarts. Evan hadn't seen that boy much, but
he doubted Nott Sr would be any different towards him, than with his firstborn.
Malfoy was very careful to keep his son away from Evan. That was a pointless
endeavour really: Evan didn't much care for blonds. But then again, Malfoy had
found it very difficult to conceive a child. His wife had suffered two miscarriages, and
a stillborn before Draco had arrived, and the child was understandably spoiled
rotten. Evan could see why Lucius was protective of the only child he would likely
ever have.
Evan had always favoured the raids where there were children involved.
Muggle children were different to Wizarding children, in most people's minds.
Wizarding children were scarce. There was enough for three schools throughout
Europe, compared to three schools in each neighbourhood for the Muggle children.
For the most part, that was due to Pureblood parents having one child each. But also
because it was becoming harder and harder to carry children full term with all of the
inbreeding that took place. To many people Muggles children were as bad as their
Muggle parents. Children could be cruel, and spiteful, and downright evil at times,

but they were still children if they were magical. If they were Muggle, most people
just told themselves that children or not, one day they'd grow up to be just like their
parents. It made killing them that much easier.
Evan never lied to himself. Children were children whether they could do magic or
not. To him, the only difference was that he didn't like Muggle ones.
Lucius Malfoy never participated on a raid where they were expected to kill children.
As one of Lord Voldemort's favourites, Lucius got away with it. He attended, he gave
orders, and he watched never once helping. But he never took part. He wouldn't
even torture the adults; he merely watched the children die.
Evan always insisted that made Lucius a sicker person than him. Evan wasn't that
bad, really. Sure he liked to torture children, and he enjoyed watching them cry and
scream in pain. But who didn't? Except Malfoy, of course, which made the blond
Wizard the weird one. Merlin, even Avery preferred to bed children than Witches!
Evan didn't like children. He had never imagined marrying and having a child,
because he didn't want one. He told himself he didn't want Harry either. He told
himself that he only cared because Harry was a Wizard, and he was being abused
by a Muggle. Of all the filthy creatures in the world, Muggles were the worst. No
Muggle had the right to harm a Wizard or a Witch. Even Muggleborns were better
than Muggles, they at least could do magic. There was some hope for them.
Evan wanted to take Harry away and care for him.
It was strange, and wrong. He shouldn't want to care for the boy. He barely knew
him. He couldn't possibly like him already. Nor love the child. And yet Evan couldn't
imagine leaving this house without the boy in toe.
The Death Eater snorted and closed his eyes. Still lost in thought.
He would have to do something about the very annoying feelings that were
beginning to surface. It wouldn't do to get attached to someone who would be of no
use to Evan in the future. Harry needed to be of use, or Evan would have no need of
Harry. It was as simple, as Slytherin, as that.
Rosier had time. He could afford to stay here for a while longer, for the foreseeable
future possibly. He could continue to study Harry when they were together, test his
aptitude, and contemplate the boy when Evan was alone. Maybe, if Harry proved to
be worthwhile, Evan would try to teach him some magic. He'd wait to see how Harry
performed and he'd try to find out why Harry's aura felt so familiar before he passed
judgement.

Until then, Evan would stay at Number 4.

XXX
1 " The Ring is the Resurrection Stone, one of the three Deathly Hallows.
2 " "Never Leave Me", an Irish Folk song, but no one seems to know by whom. It
was used in Season 7 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, as Spike's 'trigger' word.
* * *
Thank you all for reading. Please leave a review; I would love to know what you
think.
And please stop asking me when my Evan will start to act like Noctem's from Life of
Lies. He won't. He is my Evan: completely different, individual, mine. It's really
starting to hurt my ego, you know. And it gets very persuasive. The other day (after
about five comments saying 'wow he is so different to Life of Lies, why? Will he be
the same later?' I thought to myself... 'Well I better update Life of Lies... then I
thought... I don't write Life of Lies!' I hear 'LoL' more than I hear 'Butterfly' in the
reviews; I'm starting to believe I own the wrong story.)

Chapter 3
Here is the new chapter. The next chapter probably won't be posted until the middle
of May. My finals are coming up, and I'm dying at the very thought of doing FIVE
university exams. It's the most I've ever had to do at one time, and it's a complete
shock to the system, let me tell you.
I just updated The Lambs (yesterday) but after this I probably won't be around much,
what with all the revision I need to do. So forgive my imminent absence please?
Although, to all my favourite authors out there, go update: it'll help me procrastinate!
A/N READ: Firstly, I would like to thank "abibliophobia" and "Alexiad" at FFnet for
their review for Chapter 2. Secondly, thank you also to "cw" at HPFandom for their
review for Chapter 2. You all rock. This chapter is dedicated to the three of you.
Enjoy.
* * *
Words: 2,325
Chapter 3
August 31st 1985. Little Whinging.
The doorbell rang, and Petunia hurried out of the kitchen. Harry stayed where he
was, crouched against the sink with his arms raised over his head. His aunt had just
been about to hit him with a milk saucepan, and Harry wasn't going to put his arms
down and risk getting hit when Petunia came back inside.
She came back into the kitchen quickly enough, but without the saucepan. There
was a middle-ages woman with her. The Muggle was pale and red headed, and
Petunia sneered at her whenever she wasn't looking. Harry thought she looked a
little bit like how Evan described Lily Potter: maybe that was why Petunia hated her?
"Can I help you?" Petunia hissed, trying to force a polite smile onto her face.
The woman had introduced herself at the door, and told Petunia she had better
explain inside of the house. "Is your husband here?" She didn't wait for an answer.
She looked around the kitchen, spotted Harry who was still tensed and waiting to be
smacked, and pursed her lips. "This is Harry Potter I presume? Hello young man,"
she held a hand out towards him, but he merely stared at it wide eyed. She cleared
her throat and drew back her hand. When it was by her side, and not close enough

to strike Harry, he spoke.

"Hello to you too, Mrs. How are you?"
"I'm very well, dear. You?" The woman pulled a clipboard out of the satchel she was
wearing on her shoulder. "Could I ask you some questions please?"
Harry nodded, even as Petunia said, "No."
The woman invited herself to sit down at the table. Her name was Jane Neville, and
she was a social worker. "Why aren't you at school, Harry?"
It was the first day for primary school to be starting up again. Dudley had been
attending a summer school to prepare him for the differences between nursery
school and 'big boys' school, as Vernon called it. Harry hadn't attended. But to Harry
he didn't see a difference. School was school, and no matter what they taught, Harry
hadn't been allowed to attend. Dudley's first day was today, and the older fiver-yearold had taken great pleasure in rubbing it in Harry's face, and then hitting him with
his schoolbooks.
"I don't go to school." He said softly, shooting worried looks over Jane's shoulder. His
aunt was glaring at him, her mouth turned down into a frown and her fists were
clenched at her sides. "I'm not allowed."
"Do you want to go to school?" She asked softly.
"Which school?" Harry needed to know whether going to school would mean being
in the same building as Dudley for most of the day. When Dudley was at school, and
Vernon was at work, and Petunia went to the supermarket, Harry was allowed to
spend time in the basement with Evan.
"The primary school down the road. Your cousin goes there, doesn't he?"
Harry's nose wrinkled. "Yeah, he does." The boy let out a sigh. He didn't want to go
to school with Dudley, but Evan wanted him to go to school. Evan had told him as
much. Evan was a good friend to him. Evan promised to always be his friend; the
least Harry could do in return was go to school. "Yes I want to go to school."
"Well, Harry, that's really all I need to speak to you about. If I could talk to your aunt
in private, please?" Harry looked at Petunia who gave a stiff nod. He covered a
smile, whispered 'goodbye' to the woman and opened the door that led to the
basement.

"Evan?" He called softly as he walked down the stairs. He knew better than to startle
Evan. The man didn't appreciate being woken up suddenly. It was mid-day but Evan
had very strange sleeping patterns, Harry had noticed. He didn't think they were
anything strange, though. After all, Evan was imaginary so he could have imaginary
sleep whenever he wanted. "Are you awake?"
"What are you doing here?" The butterfly that was hanging off of the light bulb
fluttered down, changing into a man as it touched off of the ground. Harry gave a
delighted gasp, as Evan seemed to appear out of thin air.
"There's a social worker upstairs. I think I get to go to school." He told his friend.
Evan held a hand out, and the five-year-old took it with a delighted smile. He still
hadn't worked up the courage to hug his imaginary friend, but he always looked
forwards to the occasional times when Evan would ruffle his hair, or take his hand, or
they would sit side by side and Harry would feel Evan's leg pressing against his own.
It always made it feel more real when he could feel Evan.
Harry had asked Dudley about imaginary friends. His cousin had punched him in the
face, laughed and told Harry that it figured, because no one real would want to be
his friend. Dudley never touched his imaginary friends, though he did get them to
beat up imaginary freaks " that only happened when Dudley was had just hit Harry.
All freaks deserved to be smacked around. That was the Dursley motto.
If imaginary friends couldn't be touched, but Evan could be touched, did that mean
Evan might be real? The thought of it gave Harry a sudden chill. He trembled lightly,
and Evan squeezed his hand in comfort thinking that the boy was worried about his
relatives' reactions. Evan might be real. That would be like a dream come true for
Harry. Someone real, someone who could take him away from the Dursleys and
care for him. Someone who would love him. He turned to Evan, and offered him a
blinding smile.
The Death Eater gave a small twitch of his lips in return. His brow was furrowed as
he wondered what Harry was thinking about. Surely, he couldn't be that happy about
school?
XXX
When Vernon came home, with Dudley in tow, Petunia was waiting at the front door.
Harry was back in his cupboard and he wasn't going to be let out until the next
morning. Harry had left the basement when he grew hungry. He tried to tell Evan that
it didn't matter, that he wouldn't be fed anyway, but Evan had insisted he get

something to eat. Petunia had dragged him towards the cupboard the minute she
saw him in the kitchen. The boy had thought about complaining that he was hungry,
but it was as if Petunia knew what he was thinking because she turned to him and
smacked his right across the face. She pushed him into the cupboard and locked the
door, her eyes spitting daggers at Harry the whole time.
Dudley had been sent to his room to clean up before dinner. Vernon was dragged
into the kitchen.
"Someone knows!" Petunia hissed. "Someone called social services." She was
wringing her hands in front of her stomach nervously. "They're coming back. They
want to investigate the freaks home life, and the said they were going to look into
Dudley's care as well."
"How dare they imply that we don't take care of our son!" Vernon snarled, his face
turning puce in anger. "That little freak. This is all his fault!"
"No! No, Vernon," Petunia screamed as her husband made his way towards the
cupboard. "What if they're still watching?" She whimpered.
He stepped back into the kitchen and closed the door. "They can't watch him all of
the time." He promised himself. The freak would pay.
XXX
September 1st 1985. Little Whinging Primary School.
Harry had missed the first day of school.
For children, the first day is when friends are made and cliques are formed. Its when
everyone groups off with the people they've known since birth and away from those
who no one seems to like, so the loners all group off together. But Harry hadn't been
there.
He didn't think he was going to like school very much.
Dudley and his friend Piers, who lived on the same street as them, had already
befriended all of the bigger boys in their year. It was a gang of bullies versus the
other first year students, but they had all formed groups as well, hoping to protect
themselves with larger numbers since they lacked in size. Harry didn't have any
such protection.
A small red headed boy had tried to talk to him, but Danny Smith had kicked him in

the back. The boy, whose name was David, had fallen over with a cry. Once he was
on the floor, Danny had stood on him, digging his heels into David's back and
making the boy squeal, tears streaming down his face.
"No one is to be friends with the freak, is that understood?" Dudley commanded,
walking over to place a hand imperiously on Danny's shoulder.
When they finally let David get up off of the floor, he had run away without a
backwards glance to Harry. No one else had even dared look at the green-eyed boy
after that.
In their first class, they were painting, and Dudley took great pains to throw as much
paint onto Harry's clothes as possible. He knew his mother would be very angry with
Harry for ruining his clothing, despite the fact that they were Dudley's hand-medowns and had seen much better days. During their morning break, when all of the
children were outside playing, Harry was hiding behind the industrial dustbins.
Dudley's new friends had spotted him the moment he walked out of the building and
they had begun chasing him.
Harry spent his lunch break locked inside of the library, which was fun because he
had locked it from the inside so no one could go in after him. He knew all of his
letters, and Evan was helping him with the harder words and their meanings. He
found a low-grade book and pulled it down, flipping through it. The first few pages
were easy enough, though he had to sound out a few words twice before he got the
hang of them. By the time he got to the middle of the book he had found a few words
he didn't understand, and he tried to remember them so he could ask Evan what
they meant. He didn't have any money, or sandwiches, or anything like that with him,
so he was rather hungry. But he knew better than to ask for food.
No one had told Harry that primary school lunches were free. They were paid for at
the beginning of the year along with the tuition fees that parents 'donated' to the
schools.1
When Harry had left the library to go to his last class of the day, which was story
hour, Dudley had found him alone in the corridor. Harry had been pushed into an
empty room and Dudley had turned the lock and walked away, leaving Harry trapped
inside. When the teachers found Harry they had felt bad for him because the boy
was curled into a ball, crying his eyes out, while clutching at his knees. But when
they had rang Petunia Dursley to come pick him up, since he had missed the school
bus home (very strange that he was meant to take the bus when Vernon drove in to
pick up Dudley every day, but no one questioned it) she had been rather cold and
insisted that Harry would prefer to walk.

It was only a fifteen-minute walk, but Harry was five! His math teacher, who was
rather pleased with Harry's progress so far, offered to walk him home on his way.
Adam Grange was in his mid-twenties and he knew what it was like to be neglected
by parents. His own hadn't been that fond of him, always too busy fussing over his
much older sister. But he had never been hit, and he didn't realize that Harry was hit
regularly or he wouldn't have left the boy at the end of the driveway to Number 4 to
face his uncle's wrath.
When Mr. Grange was out of eyesight, Harry knocked on the door softly. Vernon's
fist came out, before the door was even fully opened, and grabbed hold of Harry's
hair. He dragged the boy inside, and smacked him twice across the face: once for
ruining his clothes, and once again for embarrassing them by refusing to come
home. Harry didn't even try to defend himself.
When Vernon finally grew tired of shouting at him, the man shoved him away. Harry
fell to his knees, hissing as they scrapped against the carpet, but waited until he was
dismissed before he stood up. Warily, not wanting to be caught going not to the
cupboard like he had been told to go, but to the basement, Harry headed into the
kitchen shooting frantic looks over his shoulders. He opened the door, and slowly
began to walk down the stairs.
"What are you doing?" He asked Evan. The Death Eater was holding a stick in the
air, waving it in a circle, and muttering something in a language Harry couldn't
understand.
"Magic," the man said simply.
Harry tilted his head to the side, trying to decide if Evan was being serious or not.
Vernon had always said magic didn't exist. Dudley wasn't even allowed to watch
Disney films, so magic really mustn't be real! Harry just nodded; silently deciding that
Evan was making a joke. He flopped down onto the mattress, and sighed.
"I hate school."
Evan looked at him out of the corner of his eyes. He tucked his wand away inside of
his sleeve, knowing that Harry wasn't looking. The boy was bruised again, and his
clothes were dirty and paint splattered. "I know." He said softly in reply, reaching out
one hand to rest on top of Harry's black hair.
XXX
1 " In my primary school they used to send letters home asking for 'mandatory
donations': which is a bit of a contradiction don't you think?

* * *
Thanks for reading. I hope you're all enjoying the pace I'm going at. I haven't quite
decided whether or not to keep things going like this, or skip a few years, or not. Let
me know if you have any preferences and I'll take that into account. Aunt Marge and
Ripper feature in the next chapter " and Evan finally figures out why Harry feels so
familiar! Stay tuned.

Chapter 4
Ok, sorry about the delay, but I did have exams and work, which come first
obviously. I finished Sparkle yesterday, so here is a chapter of Butterfly. I have
jumped forward from September 1985 to May 1986: Harry is almost 6. Remember,
it'll be July 1988 when Vernon dies. Character death ahead though, but not Vernon's
sorry!
* * *
Words: 3,630
Chapter 4
May 27th 1986. Little Whinging Primary School.
Harry couldn't remember the last time he had run so fast. He could hear them behind
him, all five of them gaining on him. He knew he needed to run faster, but he didn't
think he could. How could he go any faster when he felt as if his lungs were about to
burst and his legs had turned to jelly? Harry knew he couldn't let them catch him.
Dudley had been off sick for three days with the flu, and no doubt every one of his
friends thought that it was Harry's fault. They blamed everything on the freak, both at
home and in school. Aunt Petunia had refused to feed him until Dudley got better
again. Fortunately for Harry, two months after he started school, he had figured out
that the food in the canteen was free. Mr. Grange was even nice enough to bring a
plate of food into the library for Harry, after the fifth time he had caught Harry hiding
there instead of going to the canteen. He didn't mind not eating at home, when he
could eat as much as he wanted in school.
"There he is!" Danny Smith screamed.
Andy Young gave a 'whoop', and sped up. "Get him!" He hollered.
Harry gave a soft cry, forcing himself to move faster. He needed to run, and run, and
run. Maybe he could run all of the way home, and he and Evan could run away
together? He shook his head, clearing away the thoughts that were bound to distract
him, and ran around to hide behind the industrial wheelie bins. Maybe they wouldn't
see him?
"I think the little freak is hiding." Jason Higgins spat.
"Come out, little freak, come out." Piers Polkiss jeered. "We only want to play with

you."
"I see him," Liam West said with a grin. He grabbed on to the side of the bin and
tried to pull it away from the wall. Harry had wedged himself between the wall and
the bin, knowing none of the other boys were small enough to fit. "Help me."
Harry closed his eyes tightly, tensed his legs and braced himself to begin running
again. The bin moved away from him. "Got him!" Someone shouted just as Harry
dove forward, eyes still closed. He fell. "Where'd he go?" Someone asked, confused.
Harry opened his eyes, and stifled a gasp. He was on the roof of the building, lying
on the floor having tripped over a ladder the caretaker had left there. How did he get
up here? He grinned, his hands pressed over his mouth to stop himself giggling. The
others would never be able to get up here. He was safe. All he had to do was wait
for them to leave and climb down again.
When the boys were gone, Harry peered over the edge of the roof and gasped. He
hadn't realized he was up so high. How did he get up here anyway? And how was
he going to get back down?
He was dangling off the side of the building, unsure whether he should let go and
fall, or climb back up and keep waiting, when his maths teacher walked past.
"Mr. Potter?" He asked softly, frowning.
"Hello Mr. Grange, sir." Harry whimpered as the man placed his hands on his hips
and sighed. "I'm stuck."
"I'll go get the caretaker. Don't fall." Adam ran off. When he came back another man
was with him. A ladder was propped against the wall, and the second man helped
Harry climb down. "How did you get up there?"
"I don't know. I was just running and running, and then I was there, and I'm so sorry!"
Harry babbled, eyes wide and glossy with tears. He was so afraid that someone
would tell uncle Vernon.
"I understand. You must not have been looking where you were going."
He shook his head. "I had my eyes closed, sir."
"You were very lucky not to have gotten hurt!" He exclaimed, placing a light hand on
Harry's shoulder. "Back inside with you now. Thank you George," he added to the
caretaker as they walked away.

XXX
May 27th 1986. Little Whinging.
Aunt Marge had come to visit Number 4. She had been all a-flutter with worry when
her brother had rang her up, informing her that her only nephew was ill. Convinced
he was on his deathbed, she had packed up one suitcase, grabbed her prizewinning Bulldog and driven straight to Little Whinging.
"Oh Vernon," she exclaimed, "oh dear, oh dear!" She pushed the suitcase into his
arms, and shouldered past him into the house, clutching her dog under one arm. "Oh
Ripper, what ever shall we do if he dies? My precious Diddydums."
"He's not dying, Marge," Petunia explained with a sigh and a frown. "He's just ill.
He'll be ok soon."
"It was probably that freaks fault anyway," Vernon muttered as he put her bag down
at the base of the stairs. "Contagious little blighter."
"I do not understand why you keep him, Vernon! Just pack him off to an orphanage
or a whorehouse or something. It's probably all he'll amount to anyway. A useless,
parentless tramp is all he is."
"We really are too kind to him," Vernon agreed as he sat beside her on the sofa.
"Could I have some tea, Petunia?"
Vernon nodded enthusiastically, not noticing the frown on his wife's face at being
treated like a slave in her own home. "And some biscuits too, pet."
With a sneer she went into the kitchen. Silently, she made the tea, and then waved a
tea towel at the brown and green butterfly that was perched on top of the breadbin.
"Shoo, go away, filthy insect," she muttered. Evan flew up to the ceiling, and hung
upside down just above Petunia's head. "Pity the freak isn't home. It's his job to do
this, useless little brat. What does he need an education for anyway?" She forced a
fake smile on her face and placed the tea set on the kitchen table. "Tea's ready."
"Bring it in here." Marge hollered back.
Petunia gritted her teeth, picked up the tea set and made her way back into the living
room. Evan watched her go. He fluttered back down to the breadbin and remained
there unmoving for sometime. He felt no pity for her. She could be as angry, as
humiliated, or as demeaned, as she liked, it would be nothing as horrible as what

she and her husband made Harry feel about himself.

XXX
An hour before Harry arrived home that day, the principal of the primary school rang
Number 4. George, the caretaker, had mentioned having to rescue a kid from the
canteen roof. Thinking nothing of it, he told them the child's name, but Principal
Harver had been well warned about Harry Potter, and the family had insisted they be
informed if ever Harry did something 'strange', or 'weird', or 'freakish'. Principal
Harver figured the Dursley's would also like to know when Harry did something
'naughty', so he rang them.
He walked through the door silently, his head down and his eyes on the floor. He
didn't see Vernon reach out to him, but he felt the man grab a fist full of his hair. His
head was tugged up, and wide green eyes settled on his uncle's infuriated face.
"What were you doing on the roof, you freak!" He hissed, spitting across Harry's face
in his anger.
"I was- I was running, sir."
"RUNNING? ON THE ROOF?" He hollered, his face turning a worrying shade of
purple.
"They were chasing m- me, sir. I'm s-sorry." His eyes were watering up, but he
blinked back the tears. His uncle never cared much for his tears: they just made
Vernon angrier.
"You want something to run from, boy, is that it?" Vernon threw Harry backwards,
letting go of his hair. The three adults chuckled when he fell to the floor. "You
remember Aunt Marge, don't you, freak?"
"Hello, a- aunt," Harry stuttered. He made no move to pick himself up from the floor.
"Sister, shall we give him something to run from?" Vernon asked softly, though his
eyes were bright and a horrible smile was snaking its way across his face.
Marge gave him a grin in return, and when Harry caught sight of it he shuddered.
"Sick 'em, Ripper," she said with a click of her fingers. The Bulldog who had been
docile and silent, lying before the fireplace, was suddenly on his feet, snarling and
slathering at the mouth. It moved towards Harry, and lunged.

Harry threw himself out of the way, a terrified shriek leaving his mouth as he
scrambled to his feet and ran past his uncle and into the kitchen.
Evan fluttered towards the window, watching Harry tare out of the backdoor and into
the garden.
It wasn't the first time they had let Ripper chase him. Harry had learnt the first time,
that dogs can't climb trees. And there was a rather nice Oak in the back garden
whose lower branches were just low enough for Harry to reach. He scrambled for the
tree, jumping and stretching out his arms. But he couldn't reach the branches. They
were too tall. He began hyperventilating, breath coming far too quickly, and he felt
his vision swim for a second.
Ripper was leaving the kitchen, slowly, like an animal they was enjoying the hunt but
who also knew it was coming to an end. Ripper was savouring it, and Harry knew
there was nothing he could do about it. He looked around frantically and nearly
screamed when he saw the two branches he had always been able to reach lying
discarded on the ground. Beside them was a chainsaw. Uncle Vernon had cut them
off the tree.
"No, no, no, please, no," he muttered holding his hands out towards Ripper, hoping
to make the dog back away. "Please no, no, no," he breathed, as tears coursed
down his face.
The three adults had walked into the garden. They spread out in front of the door, so
there was no chance of Harry escaping back inside to hide, or running from the
house. The back garden fence was too tall for him to climb. "Now you have
something to run from, boy," Vernon said. "I presume you won't be so stupid as to
run from Dudley's friends in the future."
"Please, I'm sorry, please, no, please," Harry begged. He would have fallen to his
knees and kept begging but Ripper gave another growl and took a step forward.
Harry stepped back, coming flush against the tree.
In the kitchen, Evan heard a scream and he could have sworn his heart stopped for
a moment. He changed back, rushing to the window and drew back the curtains.
While he knew there was a risk of being seen, he didn't care. Suddenly, no matter
how hard he had tried to deny it before, Harry was more important. The child was
curled up on the ground, the Bulldog hovering over him, its mouth locked around an
arm or a leg, Evan couldn't tell. But the cries were definitely coming from his child.
He withdrew his wand and pointed it at the dog. He didn't think this would help Harry
in the long run, but he was so angry he wasn't able to think straight. He whispered

the words of the Bone Shattering Curse and felt a sick jolt of pleasure as a 'snap'
and a 'crack' echoed through the garden. The dog began to howl and whimper, its
cries louder than Harry's. It left the child, dropped to the ground and whined
pathetically until its throat was too sore to continue. Marge ran towards her pet,
cooing and fussing, and Evan waved his wand again.
Suddenly, Ripper was on his feet, despite the fact that one of them was broken. His
jaw had been shattered by the Curse but it magically managed to catch onto Marge's
throat. The Bulldog tugged viciously, ignoring Marge's attempts to pry him off. He
tugged again; each movement of his head was in sync with Evan waving his wand.
Marge gave a gurgle when Ripper let go. Her hands clutched her throat but it wasn't
enough to stem the flow of blood, or hide the four large gashes " like lots of little
mouths " that decorated her neck now.
"Call an ambulance," Vernon whispered. He went to the shed, and grabbed his
shotgun. He waited, pointing it at Ripper who had lain down on the floor again, its
eyes dulled with pain. Vernon didn't risk going near the dog, his sister or his freak
nephew, who was still sniffling pathetically.
By the time the ambulance came, Marge Dursley was already dead. Ripper was
taken into police custody to be destroyed, and Harry Potter was loaded up onto a
stretcher. As he was about to be placed into the back of an ambulance, Vernon
moved to stop the paramedics. Evan had hidden when the ambulance pulled up
outside, but he turned back and hurried to blend in with the crowd. He waved his
wand at Vernon's head; quickly silencing any protests the man might have to Harry
receiving medical treatment. Then he turned into a butterfly, and landed on Harry's
left cheek. He ignored every attempt they made to shoo him away, and eventually he
was loaded into the ambulance with his child.
XXX
May 30th 1986. Surrey General Hospital.
Evan finally knew what he was seeing. He had understood why exactly it was that
Harry felt so familiar to him.
When Ripper was attacking Harry, Harry had been absolutely terrified, and the pain
he felt had been incredible. In the ambulance, Evan had tried to read Harry's aura,
allowing his magic to come out and interact with Harry's, and the anger " the fury "
he had felt was indescribable. Harry had never struck him as someone who would
actively seek vengeance, but Evan couldn't deny he had felt it. Harry's need for
revenge, for retribution. The child, his sweet, innocent, abused child wanted to

torture and kill his Muggles.

Evan had tried to narrow down the aspects of Harry that wished to hurt the Dursleys.
What part of him, of his magic, wanted specifically to cause them pain? Harry's aura
was generally made up of light colours, but there was one large splotch of black that
encircled the boy's head. Evan had never noticed it before, but then again he had
never really been around Harry when he was seriously hurt. When the boy broke his
arm, he was at Mrs. Figg's house for three days. But the time he returned he had
almost healed.
He had been in the hospital for three days now as well, and they were letting him go
home tomorrow. The doctors said his response rate was incredible, he was healing
spectacularly; so much so that they doubted Harry would even have a scar. It was a
medical miracle they whispered to one another, and only Harry and Evan heard
them. The Dursleys hadn't even bothered to visit.
The black was decreasing day by day, but it was too late. Evan had already
recognized it.
Harry was a Horcrux.
Evan went in search of paper and a pen, and he found both at the nurse's station.
Without asking, he helped himself to what he needed and left again. He penned the
letter quickly, and he waited until Harry had been given his pain medication before
he snuck away from the hospital. Harry wouldn't wake up until the medication wore
off, and by then Evan would have found an owl to deliver his letter and he would be
back, sitting in the chair beside Harry's hospital bed, with a smile.
He felt it was time to tell Harry about magic.
XXX
May 30th 1986. Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor.
Lucius Malfoy was sitting in his study when the owl arrived. It may have just been a
coincidence, but his Dark Mark had burned for just a second three days ago, and
ever since he had been determined to figure out why. He turned the small black diary
over in his hands, frowning at it. The front cover was inscribed with 'T.M.R.' in gold
letters, but all of its pages were blank. It was important, Lucius knew that much, but
why? Evan hadn't wanted it, Evan had thought it was evil and unnatural, but surely it
was just a book? Bellatrix had something similar, Lucius knew, but he didn't know
what. While she had bragged about it, she had never said exactly what it was and
Lucius had never concerned himself to ask.

He opened the study window to allow the owl inside. It was wild, Lucius could tell, so
he didn't give it any money but he did place a dish of conjured water in front of it.
The letter was written on Muggle paper, and he pulled on his gloved before he
unfolded the note.
"FAO: Lucius Malfoy", was written on the front. On the back of the page was the
actual letter, and Lucius skimmed down to the bottom and paled when he recognized
the name, "Evan Rosier". He had thought Evan was dead!
"Dear Lucius,
I confess it has been some time since we had a decent conversation, or even
looked upon the face of one another. I wonder, at night when I cannot dream,
what will happen when the Dark Lord returns. For surely, you all think me
deceased. Do not deny it. I have not been seen or heard from for almost five
years now; it is natural for you all to assume the worst for me.
Though, this was not why I wrote you.
I do not lie to myself, ever, but I also never lower myself to beg. However, in
this instance, I cannot not ask for what I wish to ask, even if I must beg for it,
for not to ask would be like lying and insisting I do not need what I ask. What
is it I ask, you must be asking yourself? Perhaps I just wished to confuse you.
I wish for your help.
Do you remember the diary our Lord left in your possession? It is a Horcrux. I
will not tell you what a Horcrux is, for I mustn't ruin all of the fun. How would
you learn anything if someone tells you everything, after all? Bellatrix has a
Horcrux that belongs to our Lord as well. And, though I did not want one when
offered, I have found myself in possession of one nonetheless. I found it, you
might say, quite accidentally. Well, actually, Harry found me.
His name is Harry. And he is a Wizard, as well as a Horcrux. I did not think it
could be done with a human but Lord Voldemort has proved me wrong. As he
has done many times in the past as well.
Harry needs to be trained. He knows nothing of magic, but I will see to
correcting that from tomorrow onwards. I will need access to his vaults, his
parents who are deceased will have Wills undoubtedly, and if they have not
been released I wish them to be so at once, I will need to know if he has any
living relations other than the Muggles whose home we live in right now.
Disgusting, isn't it? Living with Muggles. I'm sure you can't even begin to

imagine how we suffer. My poor Harry.

I will not give you his surname. I'm sure you'll figure out who he is, and if you
don't then I obviously do not need assistance from such a simpleton. Now, if
you'll excuse me, I have a child waiting on me in hospital.
Perhaps I'll hear from you soon, old friend? Acquaintance? Fellow Death Eater
who avoided me at all possible times?
Nonchalantly, Evan Rosier."
Lucius re-read the letter twice, just to make sure he wasn't seeing things or
hallucinating. He shook his head with a sigh. How was it, irritating things like this,
always seemed to happen to him? Why not Arthur Weasley? Undoubtedly, Weasley
deserved all the suffering that could be heaped upon him, Lucius thought with a
sneer as he stood out of the chair. With the letter in one hand and his Lord's diary in
the other, he made his way to the library. He needed to know what a Horcrux was
before he made any concrete decisions on Evan's request.
And who could the boy be? A Wizard, whose parents were dead, and was living with
Muggles... and his name was Harry. Potter? It couldn't be! They wouldn't allow Evan
within twenty-feet of the child Saviour. Lucius swallowed heavily. He had never been
fond of the Potters, especially not the Mudblood woman James married. But Harry
Potter, who had somehow been strong enough to survive the Killing Curse and
destroy Lord Voldemort, was now at the mercy of Rosier? It was too cruel to
contemplate.
Lucius pushed it from his mind. When he knew what a Horcrux was, he'd know
whether Rosier would hurt the boy or not, at least he hoped he would know. And
then he could make his decision.
He thought of Draco, who would be the same age as Harry, and he cringed as he
imagined Rosier being anywhere near his son. He admitted to himself that he had
already made the decision to help Potter in anyway he could, anonymously. But he
wasn't quite ready to admit it out loud yet. Or give Rosier the satisfaction: let the man
wait on him for once. 'Nonchalantly', yeah right.
XXX
* * *
Thanks for reading. If you still love me, you'll leave a review... and I'll work on The
Lambs soon! :P

Chapter 5
I was working on a One Shot, but I can't focus on it right now. I'm too tired, and I
sprained my wrist in work Monday, so it really hurts to type... :(
Went to the doctors Wednesday, and he gave me a load of painkillers but said there
was nothing else he could do for me. The painkillers make me spacey and sleepy
(so I apologize if the later part of this chapter is insane. The earlier part was written
before the spraining of the wrist occurred). I still need to update The Lambs. I'll see
how I feel tomorrow, before work. Yawn.
Anyway, read the A/N at the bottom of the story.
* * *
Words: 5,679
Chapter 5
May 31st 1986. Surrey General Hospital.
Evan waited until it was dark outside. He checked the hallways for the night staff,
and when he found it was empty he waved his wand in one harsh movement and
cast a Muggle-Repelling Charm. He made his way back to Harry's bedside, and
stood for a moment merely smiling down on his child. He shook one thin shoulder
softly, gently waking the child.
"Evan?" Harry murmured, his eyes fluttering open, then closed again as he yawned.
"Wake up, child. We need to speak." Harry's eyes immediately snapped open and he
waited, watching his friend quietly. Evan sat on the edge of Harry's bed, one hand
reaching forward to run through his hair comfortingly. He liked being close to Harry,
and Harry liked being touched and made to feel like he was cared about in
someway. The Dursleys only ever touched him to punish him. "I am not your
imaginary friend."
"You're not my friend?" Harry all but whimpered.
"Of course I am. I'm just not imaginary." Evan gripped Harry's chin, turning his face
to meet Evan's eyes. Brown eyes narrowed as Harry gave a sniffle. "I care about
you. I did not at first, I admit, at first I did not care much for you at all except as a
means to an end. But it has been some time since I met you, and-"

"Nine months, and six days since we met." Harry exclaimed happily.
"Actually," Evan drawled, "nine months and nineteen days." When Harry frowned,
and began to count off the days on his fingers, Evan chuckled. "I am the butterfly you
saved during the thunderstorm, nine months and nineteen days ago. That was when
we first met." Harry's mouth dropped open. He looked confused and worried and
strangely like he was about to cry. "I know you don't understand, but I will endeavour
to explain. I am what is known as a Wizard. Your father was also a Wizard, and he
married your mother. Lily Potter was born to parents who cannot do magic, which
makes her a Mudblood. She was extraordinarily powerful though," he said to himself.
"Wizards? Magic isn't real." Harry scoffed. "Uncle said so."
"Yes, well, the Muggle is a lying sack of Hippogriff shit. Excuse my language." Harry
had only understood half of that sentence, so he just shrugged it off and continued to
listen to Evan's explanation. "You are what is known as a half-blood, or more
correctly a first generation Pureblood. If you married another Pureblood, your
children would be considered Pureblood as well."
"I'm not even six yet! I can't have children!"
Chuckling, Evan squeezed Harry's shoulder. "I do not expect you to procreate for
some years now. Quite a few years: a hell of a lot of years preferably. Anyway. Magic
is very much real, child. I am a Wizard. You are a Wizard too. I can turn into a
butterfly at will and I can perform magic."
"You really are a butterfly?" Harry breathed, not quite daring to hope that Evan (who
had yet to lie to him before) was telling the truth.
In response, Evan slid off of the bed and watched Harry silently for a moment. Then
he began to shrink and his skin turned brown, his hair green and his face sprouted
brown fuzz. When he was the width of Harry's palm, green and brown spotted wings
sprouted from his back and fluttered lightly as the butterfly flew towards the bed.
Evan landed on Harry's outstretched hand. The child's mouth was wide open, his
eyes blinked closed a few times and his second hand came out slowly, reverently
stroking over the butterfly's wings.
Evan fluttered away and changed back. He watched the child with a blank face,
though he raised one eyebrow in question. "Well?" He asked.
"Wow!" Harry pushed himself up in the bed, grinning like a lunatic. "If you're a
butterfly, Evan, and you're bigger than me, but we're both Wizards, does that mean
I'm a caterpillar?" Evan's other eyebrow rose slightly, but he said nothing. He sat on

the edge of Harry's bed again. "When I grow up, will I be a butterfly like you?"
"Unlikely," Evan said at last. He frowned though, his eyes raking over Harry's pale
form. "I suppose, though, you are a bit like a caterpillar. Small, and helpless, and
trapped." He reached out to stroke Harry's scared forehead, eyes narrowing. "All of
that power trapped inside of you, just waiting to come out. You could do great things,
child, you just need the right training. You could be great. Just like him." Evan licked
his lips, his free hand curling into a fist at his side as he frowned. Before Harry could
say anything, the elder Wizard smiled, and dropped both hands. "I suppose, if you
are a caterpillar now, I'll have to help you make a cocoon?"
"And then I'll be a butterfly?" Harry asked softly, "like you?"
"One day." Evan agreed. Though he did not think Harry would actually become a
butterfly animagus, he didn't believe what he was saying in a metaphoric sense.
Harry merely needed guidance, and control of his own life, until he sprouted wings of
his own and could fly away. Evan smirked to himself. He swore to himself, Harry
would do great things, and Evan would be right there beside him. After all, even
butterflies needed protection.
XXX
June 29th 1986. The Blue Oyster, Hammersmith.
It had taken Lucius a month to find any information regarding Horcruxes. He had
even contemplated visiting Azkaban to ask his sister-in-law in person, but fortunately
for him that particular path was no longer necessary. He had found the information
he sought, strangely enough, at a highly exclusive Wizarding restaurant in
Hammersmith. The Blue Oyster, while horridly named, did serve the best food in
England, and they were very picky about who they let it. That was why Lucius was
rather surprised to see Horace Slughorn sitting at a table by himself. His old Potions
Professor happened to glance over as the concierge called out the name 'Malfoy'.
Draco frowned over at the elder Wizard, before turning to his father. "Why is he
coming over here? Who is he?"
"Ah, Professor!" Lucius greeted, holding a gloved hand out to the other man.
"Don't be silly, Lucius," Horace chuckled, pulling out the last remaining chair at the
table. "I haven't been your professor for a long time. Call me Horace, please. And
who is this little one?" He asked suddenly, turning away from Lucius. The blond child
frowned at him. He want at all pleased with being called 'little': he had turned 6 at the
start of the month, for Merlin's sake. "Your son?"

"Yes, Horace this is Draco. You already know my wife of course."

"Of course. Hello Narcissa, dear." He took hold of her outstretched hand and lightly
kissed the back of it. "And you, young man, don't you look like your father. You're
going to be very handsome, I'm sure. Why, you'll be beating them away with a stick!"
Draco's nose crinkled as he fought to understand the sentence. "Beating who?" He
exclaimed at last, not liking being left out of a joke that made both his parents laugh
in public.
No one answered him though, as the waitress chose that moment to approach the
table. Draco didn't like Horace Slughorn very much. As everyone ordered their food,
and Slughorn had his brought over from his old table, Draco chose to glare holes in
the older man's head. He didn't like it when people interrupted the time Lucius spent
privately with his family. With the exception of his godfather. Severus was welcome
any time, but not Slughorn. Why was his father even letting the man intrude?
Generally, Lucius would give some scathing remark that always sounded so polite
and pleasant to ordinary people, but the person being address would always look as
if they were about to cry. Draco had every intention of being just like his father when
he grew up.
Horace watched Lucius carefully as they ate. He had kept in touch with Albus
Dumbledore, even after his retirement, and he still owed the old Wizard a handful of
favours. Dumbledore had heard that Lucius had been making inquiries that he
should not have. Dumbledore, and Horace both, were particularly worried about why
Lucius wanted information on Horcruxes. Horace had always been fond of the
Slytherins in school; he had been their Head of House after all. He had adored Lily
Evans too, and she was the reason he was here. Every hint and threat and
suggestion Dumbledore had made, none had fazed him, until Lily was brought into
the conversation. It was Horace's conversation with Tom Riddle, about Horcruxes,
some time ago, that led to Lily's death. To some extent, Slughorn had created
Voldemort. Just as much as Dumbledore had, and Tom himself had.
Horace had so much to make up for.
But the night didn't quite go to plan. For one, Lucius had always been fond of Horace
Slughorn. The man was the reason Severus had pursued a Potions career so
reverently, and while Snape didn't like teaching he did love Potions. Lucius couldn't
remember seeing his friend so happy since Slughorn had offered him an
apprenticeship. The old Professor had never given out unnecessary punishments to
the Slytherins, and he always made sure to listen to both sides of an argument
before taking sides. Many of the other teachers automatically sided against the

Slytherins. Lastly, Slughorn had never been much fond of the Marauders, and that
made him a decent person in the eyes of anyone outside of Slytherin and Hufflepuff
(though no one much cared what the Hufflepuffs thought at any rate).
It was some hours later, and four bottles of champagne, most of which had been
consumed by the eldest at the table, before the topic of interest actually arose.
"You know," Horace started off, slurring his words slightly, "it's not that I don't like
you, Lucius. I've always thought you were a decent chap, very bright, brilliant Head
Boy. Got all six NEWTs didn't you? Well done, my boy." He gave a hiccup. "But
there's a reason I'm here. People have become worried, see, you've been looking for
things you shouldn't of."
"Pray tell, sir." Lucius asked calmly, taking a sip from his flute.
"Horcruxes are dangerous, Lucius! I'm warning you not to mess with them. I have
your best interests at heart, boy, and I'm telling you they are dangerous." He hissed
angrily, his fist clenching around his own champagne flute. The corners of his eyes
were crinkled, his eyes blazed furiously and Lucius understood, completely, that the
man was more than worried for him. There was guilt in his expression, as well as
fear. Perhaps, Slughorn should have given his Lord this same spiel, though who
would dare keep such information from Lord Voldemort?
"I have absolutely no interest in creating a Horcrux." He said empathically, meaning
it entirely. "Honestly, I don't even know what one is."
"Perhaps," Horace said, nodding his head in Draco's direction.
"Ah, of course. Narcissa, Draco, would you excuse us?" He stood from the table
without waiting for an answer from his wife. He turned to Horace and placed a hand
on the man's shoulder. "This seems to be a conversation best had away from prying
ears and eyes."
"Yes, yes," Horace agreed and surged to his feet. He plucked the open bottle of
champagne from the bucket of ice on the table, and holding tightly to it, he wobbled
after Lucius from the room. Horace swayed slightly as he reached the door, but he
steadied himself by taking hold of Lucius' shoulder. He ignored the sneer the blond
sent his way. If he had been sober he would have never dared to touch Lord Malfoy
without permission. Most everyone who was worth a grain of salt knew how Lucius
felt about being touched familiarly by people with whom he was unfamiliar.
Lucius kept his silence though. He was relatively certain that this conversation would
bare fruits soon enough, so long as he did nothing to frighten Slughorn off.

"I really have no intention to create a Horcrux." Lucius said softly, his face
expressionless. They were tucked into a niche just before the servant's entrance into
the lobby. The lobby was empty, and most of the staff were busy in the kitchen of the
dining lounge, but there was a queue of curious Witches and Wizards outside the
front doors that had not been permitted entrance. Lucius kept his face away from
them, more out of habit than anything. His hair was noticeable, quite so, and not
many people could boast of having hair in the particular shade that was partial to
Malfoys.
"You say you don't know what one is. But someone else once confided the same to
me." Horace placed a hand over his mouth as he fought back a belch. He shook his
head slightly.
"I have heard rumours that a certain person created such things, and while I
normally place little stock in rumours I wanted to be certain that there was a way to
destroy these items if they were, as you say, dangerous."
"Destroy? Oh yes, you must. You will?" Lucius said nothing, he merely inclined his
head to one side and let Horace take the gesture which ever way he would. The
older man licked his lips, wetting them for they seemed to have dried out all of a
sudden. "Horcruxes are, now this goes no further than us do you promise?" He said,
interrupting himself.
"On my honour as a Wizard, sir." What Lucius of course didn't mention was that his
honour as a Wizard made him obliged to help his Lord in anyway possible. And
apparently, helping Evan would possibly be necessary for the return of his Lord to
power. Perhaps a Horcrux could be harnessed to restore Lord Voldemort to what he
once way?
"A Horcrux is a word used for an object in which a person has concealed a part of
their soul. Well, you split your soul, you see, and hide part of it in an object outside of
the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part
of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged."1 He cringed as he remembered
saying the exact same thing over forty years ago to another Slytherin. Any feelings
he was beginning to have of doubt or suspicion or worry, vanished as Lucius leaned
forward, staring at him intently.
"How do you split your soul?"
Horace paused, taken back at the intense look on Lucius' face. It was not quite as
rabid as he remembered Tom Riddle looking, but there was nonetheless a longing in
Lucius' expression that worried the old Professor. "You aren't going to create one are

you, boy?" He asked again, checking.

"Of course not. The very idea of ripping pieces of my soul away is deplorable to me.
Violation of such a sort is not something I would encourage." Lucius' upper lip curled,
"I imagine it would be similar to portioning off your magic, no?"
Horace doubted that there were similarities between the two concepts, but he
agreed because he wasn't sure whether he could believe Lucius. He may promise
not to make a Horcrux, but hadn't Tom promised the same once? And look how well
that promise had turned out.
"By an act of evil," he said at last, answering the previous question. "The supreme
act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The Wizard intent upon
creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage: he would encase the
torn portion." He raised his hand to stave off Lucius' question. He already knew what
the blond was going to ask: how? "There is a spell, do not ask me, I don't know! Do I
look like a killer?1"
Horace rubbed at his forehead, his eyes closing as he sighed. His free hand raised
the bottle to his lips and he drank deeply, swallowing heavily, as if he were struggling
to breath. "This was a mistake," he whispered to himself, before looking up at Lucius
with wide, terrified eyes. He stepped backwards, into the wall, and froze.
"What was a mistake, Professor?" Lucius asked, keeping his voice soft and
respectful. "I have already informed you that I have no wish to create a Horcrux. I
merely want to know how to destroy one, and you have yet to answer my question."
He offered the man a winning smile and it seemed to calm Horace somewhat. He
relaxed, moved closer to Lucius and lowered the champagne bottle.
Maybe it was the smile, or maybe it was Lucius so casually dismissing what a
Horcrux was in favour of how to ruin one, but Horace was composed again. He had
no intention of running away now. Instead he leant closer and whispered, "just as it
is made through an evil act and the use of a powerful magic, it must be destroyed
through magic equal or more than what created it."
"Such as?"
"Magic fire, a Dementor, being impaled by a very old, Magical blade; anything that
could be considered powerful."
Lucius made a humming noise. "I will have to see about purchasing one of such
items."

"The Feindfyre spell, Lucius, would suffice. I heard back in the day that you were
quite proficient with it."
Lucius blushed faintly, remembering back to when he had been a sixth-year student,
showing off for the current Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. He had been so
eager to please, for the man had been a friend of his father's, that he had cast the
spell too strongly, without knowing how to end it, and nearly burnt away the entire
classroom. His father had been partially embarrassed and partially impressed with
the blond, but what Lucius remembered most about the event was his Professor's
laughter at his expense. Lucius from then on no longer strived to impress anyone but
his Lord. No one else was worthy of him.
"Yes, I rather was, wasn't I?" Lucius boasted lightly, allowing a small smile to flicker
across his face at the memory. The sound of the Hufflepuff girls in his class
screaming had been one of the up-points of the accident.
"Well," Horace said pulling a pocket watch out of his robes and glancing at it. "It's
time for me to be leaving. Bid farewell to your wife and son from me, won't you
Lucius?"
"Of course. Have a good evening, sir."
"Pleasure talking to you," Horace muttered as he watched Lucius walk away slowly.
A part of him knew he would regret the conversation in the morning, when he
sobered up and the alcohol stopped affecting his brain. But a larger part of him
wanted to be like Dumbledore, and suspect the best of everyone, especially those
he once liked. He told himself, as he walked outside to the Apparition area, that not
everyone was like Tom Marvolo Riddle.
XXX
July 8th 1986. Little Whinging.
Evan was sitting in the living room of Number 4, Privet Drive. Harry sat on the floor,
leaning back against Evan's legs.
The Dursleys had all but avoided Harry like the plague since he had returned from
the hospital. They had both expected Vernon to immediately lash out at the child, to
strike him, or punish him, and more than likely land Harry back in the hospital. But he
hadn't. He had certainly looked like he wanted to, but he didn't act on his desire to do
the child harm. Evan later found out it was because social service workers would be
dropping by 'randomly' over the course of the next couple months to check on Harry
and Dudley both.

Apparently, the doctors had been unaware of Harry's existence before the child had
arrived at Surrey General, which was unusual in itself: Harry never having seen a
doctor before, despite having many cuts and bruises and old scars, and previously
broken bones that showed up on the x-rays that were taken. The fact that the
Dursleys had no birth certificate for Harry or a social security number was also not
very helpful for them.
Marjorie Dursley lived some ways away from her brother's family. The funeral had
been held during the first week of June, nearer to Marge's home, and the Dursley's
had all but moved into the dead woman's house for the past month.
Harry was supposed to be living with Mrs Figg. The Dursley's had cleared that with
social services, explaining that Harry was too traumatised by what had happened to
go stay in the house of the owner of the dog that had attacked him. Marge probably
had more bulldogs at home, anyway, Vernon had insisted, and Mrs Figg loved
looking after the boy, apparently.
Evan had waited until Petunia Dursley had left the house, (for some unexplainable
reason, the phone hadn't been working), to go to visit Magnolia Drive, Evan had
waved his wand at her. He had hidden behind the car, well out of the wards reach,
and forced a fake imagine into the front of her mind. She walked down the road for
twenty minutes in the opposite direction of Magnolia Drive, turned around, and came
home again. She told Vernon Mrs Figg had agreed to take him, when in actual fact
she had never spoken to Arabella that day. Harry had been sent along alone, and he
had done what Evan told him to do: he had hid behind a particularly large bush until
the Dursley's drove out of sight. Evan had collected him ten minutes later and
brought him back to Number 4.
"I like it when it's just the two of us," Harry whispered quietly. Evan flicked through
the channels on the television. He had magically convinced Vernon not to ring and
cancel the electricity or water supply for the duration of their holiday. It was fortunate
he had, for he did not think he would like living in a Muggle house without any of the
Muggle benefits. There was something to be said for not having to light five hundred
candles just so you could see where you were going.
"As do I." Evan tapped Harry on the top of the head, and the boy grinned slightly. He
took the hint, and looked back at his book.
Evan had written to Flourish & Blotts, the bookshop in Diagon Alley, and owled the
letter away the second day the Dursleys had been absent. He had informed the
owners that he wished his son to get a head start, as he had previously been living
with his Muggle mother and knew nothing about his rightful world. Mr Flourish had

been delighted to help out the 'Tennyson Alfred'2, who had been so polite and
articulate and had even included his vault number and the necessary signed details
the shop would need to extract payment from the Goblins.
Harry had been informed, after the books had arrived, that Mr. Alfred was a
pseudonym of Evan's that he created a long time ago, soon after he first joined what
he called 'the Inner Circle'. The Circle of what, Harry didn't know, because Evan
wouldn't tell him. Instead he handed the child the book on the top of the pile, entitled
'An Introduction to the Wizarding World: a Guide for Muggleborns, and told him
to start reading. Evan would fill in the cultural gaps the book would no doubt have
once Harry had a sounder basic understanding of their world. After all, it would do no
good to teach the boy to run before he could walk, and consequentially cause him to
fall flat on his face, would it?
"You like the television, don't you?" Harry asked, looking up. He was almost at the
end of the book, having been reading it for a month solid.
Evan looked down at the boy with a small smirk. "Television has brought back
murder into the home, where it belongs," 3 he said at last. Harry merely stared at
him blankly. "It was a joke."
"I know," Harry said, frowning, "I was trying to decide why you thought it was funny."
Evan merely rolled his eyes, and changed the channel. Wit was lost on the youthful,
he told himself mentally. Actually, his wit was lost on pretty much everyone, but Lord
Voldemort. Evan sighed. He really missed having company that was equally as
sadistic and quirky as himself.
Harry went back to his reading, and Evan settled into watching one of the many
annoying talk shows that were regularly on during the day. An owl flew in through an
open window, but Evan didn't stir, even as Harry jumped about a foot in the air. "Ah, I
had wondered if Lucius would ever reply."
"Lucius?" Harry asked softly. Evan took the letter from the pitch-black eagle owl that
waited impatiently, perched on the coffee table. Harry marked his page and closed
the book. The owl hopped towards him, hesitating momentarily, before moving to
rest on Harry's outstretched legs. The child reached out to pet the animal, smiling
softly as the soft feathers pressed closer to his fingers. If the owl were one of Mrs
Figg's cats, it would probably be purring.
"An old... associate of mine. I have asked him for some assistance."
"About me?"

"Yes, child. About you." He unfolded the letter, breaking open the seal. "Let us see
what he has to say about the matter, hmm?"
"Rosier,
You imbecilic fool. Have you no idea how fortunate you were not to have had
that letter intercepted? You did not even cast one hex on it! Anyone could
have read that letter if it were his or her wish. How badly damaged my
reputation would have been, then, have you considered? Not to mention the
fact that you boldly admitted to living with the Boy-Who-Lived!
Are you mentally deficient? Well, yes, I presume you are. But regardless of
your less than satisfactory mental functions, you need to think this over,
Rosier.
While the boy may be a Horcrux (of which I now know most of what there is to
know about), it is still a danger to be seen to side with him. On that note, it
could be potentially dangerous to blatantly side against the boy as well. He is
a hero, for now. But he won't always be, Rosier. Our Lord will return " or is he
no longer your Lord?
He will not be happy, Rosier, not at all. My advice to you would be cut your
losses. The child will bring you only danger. I will endeavour to help him,
because he is a child. But my help extends to the enclosed information and no
further.
Yours, formally, Lucius A. Malfoy: Lord of the House of Malfoy. "
Evan's hands clutched tightly to the parchment, the knuckles turning chalk white. His
face paled in anger, but he remained silent. Harry listened intently, understanding the
gist of the letter, and knowing this man thought Evan was making a mistake by being
his friend. Harry glared at the owl, though it wasn't the owl's fault that its owner was
a " bad word. Harry winced, not able to bring himself to curse mentally. Evan didn't
like it when he used 'adult' words.
He was going to be brilliant one day. He was going to do great things, Evan had said
so. And when he was great, and brilliant, and powerful, when he finally had his
wings, he'd show Malfoy. He narrowed his eyes in thought. Lucius would regret his
decision, Harry thought.
Lucius had enclosed several documents. Harry's birth certificate was one of them,
his parents death certificates were present, as well as a copy of their Will. Evan
scanned through it, frowning. Harry was relinquished to the custody of Sirius Black?

The Murderer? Evan had heard he had been sent to Azkaban, but he never heard
word that the Lord Black had joined his Lord. He had never given it much thought,
but he had always considered it to be a mistake or a set up. The man was so
obviously light sided. He considered the ramifications for his plan if Harry was to fall
into the custody of Sirius Black, and decided, despite the fact that it was a horrible
fate to wish on anyone, Black was better off in Azkaban than on the receiving end of
Evan's wand.
He carefully folded up the documents, frowning when something fell out of the
envelope as he picked it up. It was a Gringotts key. He recognized the insignia
engraved on the round flat surface at the top of the key as the Potter crest. How
Lucius managed to get hold of the Gringotts key Evan didn't even want to
contemplate. There were other things on his mind.
Evan turned the parchment over, ignoring the Malfoy crest emblazoned on the back
of the letter, and grabbed a Muggle pen off of the coffee table. Harry leant into his
leg, pressing against his friend, as Evan wrote furiously. He thrust the letter at the
owl. The bird turned to look at Harry, who smiled warmly, before reaching out and
grabbing the letter with his beak. It flew off without needing to be prompted.
Evan wished he were there to see Lucius' face.
XXX
July 8th 1986. Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.
Lucius frowned as Ares flew in through his study window, a letter in his beak. What
more could Evan Rosier possibly have to say to him? He took the letter, petted his
owl lightly on the head and shooed the animal over to its perch in the corner of the
room.
He scowled as he read the note.
"Is that anyway to talk to an old friend, Lucius? And here I thought your father
taught you better than that?
But that is beside the point. It is of course my prerogative if I wish to continue
to assist Harry Potter, who I admit has rather grown on me. I remember how
fond you always were of children, Lucius; surely you remember how I felt
about them in return? So obviously there must be something about Harry to
have swayed me from my previous opinions. It is unclear to me, how you
could be so obtuse as to not have guessed this for yourself, but then again,
you know what they always say about blonds.

Contrary to the previous, I did not reply merely to insult you, though I admit to
enjoying such activities. It is most engaging.
You have no idea what it is you are denying, the opportunity you are throwing
away. You need to think this over more deeply, my friend. Our Lord is not the
most pressing issue at this time, yes he will return, but no, not without Harry's
help. Don't you want to be the one who helped bring Lord Voldemort back to
greatness? The one who swayed his strongest enemy into his most loyal ally?
No, it is not my intent to brainwash the child, though I assume you will believe
the worst of me regardless of how I protest so I will say no more in my
defence. But you understand as well as I do that the moment Harry steps foot
in Hogwarts, Albus will brainwash him Iagainst/I us, against our Lord. Is that
what you want? I have no doubt, that if it comes down to a battle between the
two of them, I have doubts about our Lord's success. Do not forget, Harry has
a part of Lord Voldemort within him: Harry is, where it counts, one and the
same with Lord Voldemort.
The Muggle family has been absent for some time. I doubt they will return
soon. It appears they rather enjoy being out of Harry's presence, and I admit to
enjoying extremely their absence. We will meet you in the Leaky Cauldron at
noon, two days hence. If you do not appear, Lucius, I will have to presume that
you have decided wrongly, and any action I take from that point on, in
protection of my child, and myself, will be nothing overtly personal I assure
you.
Again, I wish you my sincerest regards. Take them however you will. Evan."
His face twisted into a scowl as he re-folded the parchment and lay it down on his
desk. He helped himself to a glass of brandy, savouring the taste before replacing
the glass beside the decanter and sliding back into his chair.
What to do? He questioned himself.
He supposed it wouldn't hurt to at least meet with Evan. Though, no doubt they
would be going some place private and Muggle. Harry Potter and the presumed
dead Evan Rosier couldn't very well turn up and start strolling down Diagon Alley
without drawing very much unneeded attention to themselves.
The blond sighed. His head lulled back, resting on the soft leather of the chair, and
he folded his hands neatly in his lap. He had a day and a half to think over the
matter. He wished very much to ask his friend for advice, but he considered what
Rosier was capable, and knew there was no need at this point to involve Severus.

He was putting his family at risk already; there was no need to risk more people. Not
yet. Not until he needed help.
He had less than two days to decide whether or not to refuse Evan Rosier something
he obviously wanted. He had less than two days to decided whether or not it would
be prudent to request assistance. His eyes slipped closed, and before he was aware
of it, he found himself falling asleep. He woke the next morning, with a crick in his
neck, and a familiar Potions Professor sitting in the chair before his desk.
Severus Snape raised an eyebrow.
XXX
1 " Taken from chapter 23, HBP. Also, Horace Slughorn (in my view) did not hate
Lucius Malfoy (or anyone else) until it was proved that he was a Death Eater. Just
like with Tom, until Lucius was proven guilty, Horace merely viewed him as a once
favoured student, without ill intent.
2 " Alfred, Lord Tennyson, as he was known: poet, 1809-1892. Tennyson succeeded
Wordsworth as Poet Laureate in 1850.
3 " "Television has brought back murder into the home - where it belongs" " Alfred
Hitchcock.
* * *
A/N: For those of you who were bothered about Lucius' reaction. Lucius likes
children. I said previously that he won't even kill Muggle children. Why would anyone
doubt he would help Harry (especially since in 8 years time Lucius is obviously in a
relationship with Harry)?
For those of you who think Harry will be leaving the Dursleys. You need to read the
prologue again. Harry will remain at the Dursleys until he leaves for Hogwarts,
however, Evan will be running the show when he finally kills Vernon (when Harry is
8).
For those of you who asked about Evan performing magic inside of the wards. It will
be explained when Evan kills Vernon. But basically, the garden is considered to be
'outside', just like the driveway is. Only the actual house is warded.
Thanks for reading. This chapter is almost twice the size of the others (bar the
Prologue), so I hope it makes up for my lack of updating over the last week.

Chapter 6
Here is the next chapter. Wow.... I'm so glad I made so many people sarcastic!happy
by killing Harry in The Lambs. It's what I live for... Smirk!
* * *
Words: 3,402
Chapter 6
July 10th 1986. The Leaky Cauldron, London.
The pub was a grimy looking thing from the outside. Muggles walked passed, not
noticing the door or the windows or the people staring out at them, but they did see
the dirty walls and the chipping paint. They wrinkled their noses and walked on.
Harry stopped at the doorway. It looked just as unappealing to him, but Evan had
promised it would look nicer on the inside. The outward appearance was only to
keep those Muggles who were unaffected by the wards away. (Though, those
weren't actually Muggles, but Squibs whose magical relative had died generations
ago).
Harry was dressed in Muggle clothing, and he had one of his aunt's hairbands on:
the wide ones that wrapped around his whole head and covered his forehead. His
scar was hidden, and when he wore the sunglasses Evan found in Vernon's
nightstand, he was suitably disguised. His two more prominent features were out of
sight.
Evan had told him to wait there. And so he would.
Inside The Leaky Cauldron, people laughed and drank even though it was only five
to twelve in the day. Lucius watched them with a sneer, growing more annoyed as a
Witch leant over him to reach the bar and giggled in his face. He raised a hand,
delicately covering his mouth and nose, and he turned his face away. The girl reeked
of booze. Grey eyes narrowed at the clock on the wall. Evan was never late, Lucius
knew that. Evan had always been one of the first to arrive at the Death Eater
meetings. Undoubtedly Evan was already there, and was merely staying hidden to
better enjoy Lucius' discomfort.
As if he could read thoughts, Evan materialized beside the blond. Both were dressed
in the Wizarding equivalent of a suit, but without the robes. Lucius slid gracefully
from the barstool. "Shall we?" He asked, sweeping his arm out in the direction of the

door.
A blond child moved over to them, frowning curiously at the tall dark haired man.
"Father?" Draco asked softly.
Evan looked down at him, his mouth twitching into a small smirk. Lucius' hand
dropped to Draco's shoulder and squeezed. The boy winced as the fingers gripped
him tightly, nails digging into the cloth and flesh. "I had presumed you would bring
the child with you."
"The child," Evan said coolly, "is outside. The child would have been a part of our
meeting, regardless of his age. But it matters not. Bring your child."
"Father, who is this? Is this who we're waiting for?" Draco said. He probably thought
he was whispering, the way most children do, but Evan could hear every word even
over the din in the pub.
"My name is Tennyson Alfred." He extended a hand, but before Draco could reach
for it Lucius took hold of his son's wrist and held it tightly. "My son, Caen, is outside.
Come."1
When Lucius looked him over he frowned, noticing the subtle differences in
appearance that anyone who didn't know Rosier would have missed. The man was
wearing a very simple glamour Charm. But those were always the best types. They
took less energy to maintain, and they didn't register by any of the Ministry revealing
spells. If Lucius hadn't of been waiting for Evan, if he hadn't of known Evan since his
own time in Hogwarts, he would have walked right passed the man on the street and
never noticed that Tennyson was the infamous 'dead' Death Eater.
Harry was so obviously still Harry Potter. Glasses and a hair tie did nothing to hide
his bone structure, or hair colour, or overall appearance. Lucius took one look at him
and raised an eyebrow.
Evan snorted. "That is why he remained outside." It wasn't recommended that
glamour Charms be used on anyone under the age of twelve. Evan felt that there
was no need to risk damaging his child, when it was just as easy to avoid the
Wizarding World for a few more years. "Caen, this is Lucius and Draco Malfoy."
"Pleasure to meet you." He held his hand out to Draco first, a small smile spreading
over his face at the shocked look Lucius gave him. He narrowed his eyes at the
elder blond, moving a step back so he was pressing completely against Evan.
"Hello." He nodded his head, but didn't offer his hand.

"He is peeved with you, my friend, for not offering me your assistance."
"I see." Lucius drawled, eyes narrowing at the child. He wasn't particularly annoyed,
more intrigued. It was not commonplace that a child would dare to offend Lord
Malfoy. But, he supposed, anyone raised by Rosier, would have Rosier's disastrous
manners as well. His eyes lingered on Harry a little too long. Evan noticed, and his
forehead creased in thought.
"This isn't the place for this. Come." Evan took Caen by the hand and began to walk
back in the direction they had travelled fifteen minutes earlier. Lucius and Draco
followed silently. They stopped a long while later at a park. Evan led them further into
the area, bypassing the children's playground and instead continuing through the
gardens and finally stopping at a small caf, half hidden behind the flower displays.
"Go entertain Draco," he told Harry. Originally, he was going to have Harry join their
conversation. But he didn't think Lucius would appreciate Draco being involved in
this matter. "Don't go to far."
Harry turned to look at Draco and sighed. He turned back to Evan and raised an
eyebrow.
"Yes," Evan promised. "I will." Lucius picked up on the silent 'tell you later', but Draco
didn't or he would have demanded the same assurance from his own father.
"He is beginning to act more like you."
"How would you know? You did not see how he acted previously." Evan bit out.
"I have no doubt that he acted differently to you. But now, he copies you, in his
manners, his expression, he tries to walk like you as well I noticed. It is something to
be proud of." Lucius pointed out, taking a seat at one of the quaint tables.
"Your own child tries to emulate you," Evan said brazenly, "mine does a better job of
it."
Lucius' hands clenched into fists beneath the table, out of Evan's view, but there was
no other sign that the words had bothered the blond. Evan smirked anyway. "We
should begin, no? I see no reason to waste time. And time is money, after all."
Evan chuckled, "Few things are harder to put up with than the annoyance of a good
example, but you are right. This time."3 He said nothing further. Lucius looked at him
with a frown, one eyebrow climbing on his forehead. "Well, explain yourself, Malfoy.
What did you dream about last night? Good things, I hope!" Rosier said at last.

"If you are not going to take this seriously, Rosier, then there is no need to continue
further. Excuse me." He moved to stand. In a second, Evan was standing behind
him, Evan; own chair had overturned onto the ground, and the man was holding the
armrests of Lucius' seat tightly.
"Sit. Down." He said slowly, his voice low.
People began to look over, frowning and whispering, and Lucius obediently slid back
into his chair. He gritted his jaw and watched the brunette man moved to righten his
seat and sit down again.
"You think I do not take this seriously? You think I find the idea of my child's death
funny?" Lucius swallowed, but kept his tongue. "Those Muggles are going to kill him.
I think they only reason they haven't so far is because they are afraid of him, of our
kind. But no one is watching them, no one, and when they realize that, there will be
only me between them and Harry. I cannot take action against them unless I know
what will result. Lucius, please! I do not beg, I have said so before. I can and will find
out for myself what I need to know, but I believe it would be faster to have your
assistance."
"Evan..." Said man raised his hand, and Lucius stopped speaking.
"If they don't kill him, if Harry lasts long enough to get to Hogwarts, he will still have
to return every summer. Dumbledore did not let our Lord stay at Hogwarts during the
break, and he will not let Harry either. When our Lord returns, I will return to him,
Malfoy. But not if I have to leave Harry behind."
Lucius' mouth dropped open. "You say as much, to my face? Me, our Lord's right
hand? You traitor!" The blond hissed, his eyes narrowed.
"I am not betraying anyone, Malfoy. It is funny. If it were you protecting your son, it
would be excusable. You would be protecting your bloodline. But if I attempt to
defend my child, I become a traitor. Is it only because he is not of my blood, so by
protecting him I am not protecting my line, like you? Or are you just a hypocrite?"
Evan waited for Lucius to say something else, but there was only silence. "I care
about our Lord, in ways different to you or the others. I have known him for longer
than you have. He has a handful of followers from his own school days, and then he
has their children, your generation, and he will have your children someday. And
then there is me. I am not like the rest of you. I do not fear him. And any punishment
I receive, I know is warranted. I revel in it; enjoy it, because I know that it won't
happen often. I am loyal. Do not doubt that. I would die to serve him. But even
Voldemort understand, I protect what is mine."

"You were," Lucius paused, unsure whether or not to continue.

"Intimate with him? No. Man delights not me- nor woman neither."4 He snorted,
slightly amused. "What I feel for our Lord is hard to define. I do not lust for him, nor
fear him, but at times he angers me, I am fond of him, and when he was defeated I
did not grieve for him but I did worry about him. He is, I believe, the closest thing to a
friend I have ever had. I do not trust him, because I understand what he is capable
of, but I trust that he will do nothing to purposely injure me. It is complex, Lucius."
"And you feel that helping Potter is not a betrayal?"
"Harry is... mine. At first, I considered him a means to an end. I was able to hide
within his home, receive sustenance, warmth: every bodily need for free and without
danger. But he grew on me. He saved me, during a lightening storm. The Muggles
had him locked outside. But he saved me, and kept me dry and then let me free the
next morning. He is very intelligent, and endearing, and kind. But there is a part of
him, buried deep down, except for when he is angry or terrified, and it is so dark. It
calls to me."
"How so?" Against his better judgement, Lucius was becoming enthralled. He had
only wanted to hear Evan out, decide against helping and leave, hopefully without
being retaliated against. But now, he longed to hear more.
"When our Dark Mark calls, we answer. It calls to us, reaches inside to the depths of
our very being and tugs until we answer. It feels like that. It is the Horcrux, the part of
Voldemort's soul within Harry that calls to my own magic. And my magic demands I
answer. His aura is indescribable." Evan smiled slowly. "It fascinates me, and I
longed to know more. Sometime between his being a means to an end, and being
an experiment, I began to see him as a child. My child."
"I see." Lucius took a sip of water. Sometime since they arrived a waitress had
carried over a jug and two glasses and neither of them had noticed her. "Severus
came by just after I received your letter."
"What did you tell him?" Evan's tone was clipped, all of his muscles tensed. Lucius
might trust Snape, but Evan didn't. If anyone was a traitor it was the Potions Master.
"What makes you think I told him anything?" Lucius asked, curiously. Evan's face
remained expressionless. "I trust Severus. He is my friend. He is loyal, just as we
are."
"Yes, but is he loyal to the same person?" Evan said with a sneer.

"Of course he is! He believes in our Lord!"

"He loves Lily Evans, whom our Lord murdered. Snape begged for her life."
"He explained all of that to me. He said that he forgave our Lord but he thought it
was best to cultivate friendships with the opposing side, he thought it might be
helpful when our Lord remerged to have an inside person."
"So he told you. And you believed him." Evan laughed; a cold and high sound, and
Lucius cringed because it sounded more like Lord Voldemort's laugh, than Evan's
own. "Never before have I encountered so un-Slytherin like behaviour. The trust, the
naivety," he spat, "disgusts me."
"He is NOT a traitor!" Lucius snarled, his lips curling in anger.
"To his own ideals, no he is not." Evan agreed, cupping his hands around his glass.
He raised his eyes at the sound of a gasp. Draco's grey eyes were wide as he
watched his father, worry on his face. Harry stood beside him, his arm was out of his
cast and Draco's training wand was dangling from his fingers. "The boys are back.
Time to leave."
"We are not finished," Lucius managed to get out through gritted teeth.
"We most certainly are not." Evan agreed as he stood up. He stopped beside Harry
and plucked the wand from his hand. He flicked his wrist, tossing the wand away,
and Draco reached out, fingers scrambling at the air, to catch it. The child cradled
the wand, eyes still wide, before running to his father's side. "Why did you take off
your cast?"
"It was itchy. And Draco wanted to practise the Vanishing spell." Evan raised an
eyebrow as he looked his child over. Harry was missing his cast, three buttons from
his shirt, and a shoe.
"Did it work?"
"Not at first," Harry confided. "My shoe caught fire the first time we tried."
Evan handed his wand over, looking back to make sure Lucius was still watching
them. "The incantation is 'Evanesco', give it a try."
Harry pointed the wand at the nearest plant, and whispered the spell. He cringed,
half expecting the bush to catch fire but instead it vanished, right in front of his eyes.
It had worked. On his first try. With someone else's wand. It was almost unheard of!

While Harry grinned happily to himself, Evan turned around fully and met Lucius'
stunned grey eyes. His lips curled upwards, stretching his mouth across his face in a
horridly smug grin. He winked, allowing a chuckle to escape his throat as Lucius'
fingers clenched and his eyes narrowed in anger. He took his wand back and unVanished Harry's shoe, buttons and cast.
"Ah!" The child said softly, glancing down sadly at the uncomfortable plaster-of-paris
wrapped around his forearm. "Do I have to?"
Evan said nothing. Harry took the silence as a 'yes', and sulked for most of the way
home. Much to Evan's amusement.
When they arrived back at Privet Drive, an owl was waiting for them on the front
porch. The Dursleys had not come back yet, and Evan was holding out hope that
they had died in a road accident somewhere off of the map where no one would ever
find their bodies.
"Did you get on well with Draco?"
"I suppose," Harry said with a shrug as Evan opened the front door. The child took
the letter from the owl, since it was address to him, and they went inside. "I don't
really like people my age though. They make me nervous."
"I know. But it's good practise for when you go to Hogwarts. Just order him around a
bit, don't let him intimidate you, you know, act like me."
"Act like you? Do you want me to terrify the boy?" Evan cuffed him across the back
of the head, letting out a small chuckle as Harry gave a giggle. "Ok, ok, sorry," he
said, trying to avoid a second swat. "Hey, stop abusing me so I can open my letter."
"Very well." Evan took a step backwards, holding his hands out in front of him as an
invitation for Harry to go first. The boy flopped down onto the sofa. Evan sat beside
him, and pulled Harry's head into his lap.
Evan read the letter out loud.
"Caen,
My son thanks you for allowing him the practise he desires. I was impressed
by your display. Previously, I had decided not to assist you or Rosier, but I
have since changed my mind. I may yet live to regret it.
With what I know of Horcruxes in mind, I took the liberty of ordering you a

training wand, made of Yew. That is what our Lord's wand is made from. I have
no doubt that it will be a good match for you. It will arrive within the week.
Accept the wand in lieu of our rather unproductive meeting. In return for your
forgiveness, accept my help. When ever you need it.
Your friend, Lucius."
"You seem to have won him over, though I couldn't." Evan mused, a slow smirk on
his lips as he started down at his child.
"Says something about your personality, don't you think?"
Evan snorted. "Personally, I think it says something about Lucius' personality." He
bared his teeth, his grin stretching as he thought of things that Harry was too young
to hear. "I would never have guessed."
He didn't worry, he knew Lucius was too uptight to actually act on any desires he
may posses. It would, nonetheless, be useful to use Harry to further any exchanges
between Lucius and Evan. Apparently, Evan wasn't the only one with interest in the
child.5
"Write him back and thank him." Evan instructed.
Harry slid from the sofa. He knelt in front of the coffee table, and grabbed the pen
that was always there. He scrawled out 'thank you' onto the back of the page and
held it up for Evan's inspection.
The man chuckled. "You did not need to take me so literally child. But send it on
regardless." The owl was still waiting on the porch when Harry opened the door, so
he handed the letter over and after a quick pet, the bird was on its way home.
"Evan, you know I don't mind it when you hit me, right?" Evan's head snapped up,
eyes narrowed. "Like you were earlier. When we were just messing around. I don't
mind. It feels comfortable, and I wanted you to know that I didn't mind."
Evan stood, both hands falling onto Harry's shoulders. They squeezed lightly and
tugged the child forward. Harry looked up at him with a wide smile.
"You know I would never hurt you? That I would not abuse you or harm you. I am
sorry that I allow the Dursleys to torment you, but there is nothing I can do about
them. Not yet. That is why I need Lucius' help."

"I know," the boy said after a few minutes of silence passed between them. Their
eyes locked, and Evan allowed a small smile to settle on his face. It was matched by
Harry's grin.
They stayed like that for a while, holding onto each other and staying happy and
silent. The moment was broken, unexpectedly, by the sound of a car pulling into the
driveway. A door slammed, followed by an obnoxiously loud exclamation of "home
sweet home, eh pet?"
The two Wizards drew back. Evan was tense and Harry's hands were trembling
lightly. They looked at each other, and in the blink of an eye, Harry was alone. The
butterfly fluttered to the ceiling and attached itself to the light, watching as his
caterpillar slowly opened the front door.
The Dursleys were home.
XXX
1 " Evan's animagus is from the Butterfly Family Lycaenidae. I just added some
green markings to match Harry's eyes! His Latin name is 'Incisalia Eryphon', the
Western Pine Elfin. Harry is 'Caen' (from Lycaenidae). Pronounced, Cain. He will be
refered to as such, until Vernon dies.
2 - Disclaimer: I have been informed by AKA Quin (at FFnet) that the author of the
Poem 'Butterfly' used in chapter 2 is Louise Gluck! Just so you know.
3 " "Few things are harder to put up with than the annoyance of a good example" "
Mark Twain.
4 " "Man delights not me- nor woman neither." " Hamlet, Scene 2, Act II.
Shakespeare.
5 " No, the interest Lucius has in Harry isn't sexual in nature. Yet. At the moment,
Lucius is only curious about why someone like Rosier could be interested in Harry so
selflessly. He is also fascinated about the idea of being around Harry acting like the
Dark Mark for Evan (when he is angry or scared). It would be like having Lord
Voldemort back.
* * *
LOL stop asking me what's going to happen. If I tell you all, there's no point me
writing the story, is there? I'll say this though... Harry will not be a 'servant', promise.
He'll be raised to be an 'heir', so he'll have to obey at times, just like if Voldemort

were his father, but he won't be a complete underling.

Also, I was meant to kill Vernon in this chapter... But Draco attacked me with a
pitchfork, so here he is again! Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.

Chapter 7
I hate starting new chapters. Once I get going, the rest comes to me. But starting the
chapter always has me stumped. I want to time-jump...
* * *
Words: 2,668
Chapter 7
July 31st 1986. Little Whinging.
Harry hated it when the post came. He knew he never received any letters, but a
part of him always waited desperately, hunched over in his cupboard under the
stairs, hoping that someone " anyone except Evan " cared that he was alive. If he
was a Wizard, then shouldn't someone want to write to him? He scrunched his eyes
closed and sighed. No. No one ever wrote to him. But it was near impossible for him
to stop hoping. He didn't need stupid letters anyway. He had Evan.
Uncle Vernon came stomping down the stairs, and Harry trembled as the floor above
his head began to shake. He muttered to himself, praying, begging the ceiling not to
cave in on top of him. With a relieved smile, he opened his eyes. He was still alive
and in one piece.
The front door slammed closed, and the cupboard door was wrenched open. Vernon
reached inside and grabbed hold of Harry's shirt. The boy was six-years-old that day,
and instead of celebrating, he had been let outside to weed the entire garden and
then shoved back into the cupboard without anything to eat or drink. The Dursleys
hadn't been very happy with him since Aunt Marge died. Harry didn't know why
Ripper attacked her, but his uncle seemed convinced that it was Harry's fault. Harry
personally thought it was Marge's fault. After all, it was Marge's dog that killed her.
Saying as much, though, wasn't a good idea: it had earned Harry three painful
punches to the face.
The Muggle's face was a dark purple colour. Harry winced. He knew his uncle was
very angry when he stopped breathing long enough for his face to turn purple.
A letter was shoved under Harry's nose. Against his will, a smile crossed his face
and green eyes lit up with pleasure. "It's for me?" He breathed. "Really?"
Vernon pushed the boy away, sneering. He ripped open the bright red envelope, and

hurriedly pulled out the card. Without reading the front cover, he opened the card
and clenched his hand around the empty envelope.
"Dear Mister Potter," he read, his voice low and strained. "I heard it was your
birthday. I'm sorry that you were too sick to attend the last two weeks of school, but I
hope you've recovered by now at least? Have a great birthday. I'll see you when
school starts in September. Mr. Adam Grange." Vernon swallowed heavily. "Who is
this?" The man snarled at last.
"My m-maths teacher. He's my t-teacher." The bruises on Harry's face stood out
even more as he lost all colour he had. Trembling, and pale, Harry took a step
backwards. "I didn't tell him anything. I didn't. I promise, uncle."
Vernon mumbled something that Harry couldn't hear. His hands were clenching and
unclenching at his sides, and Harry watched with regret as his card was crushed into
a ball. He bit his lip though. Asking for the damaged card back really wouldn't be
worth the punishment he'd receive.
"Go light the fire, boy."
"The f-f-fire?" Harry stuttered. It was the end of July, and it was shaping up to be the
warmest summer that Harry could ever remember experiencing. Why would his
uncle want the fire lit?
"Yes the fire," his uncle spat, "do as you're told, boy!" Vernon raised his hand,
intending to strike Harry across the face. Harry ducked down, scuttling past his uncle
with his head tucked as close to his chest as possible. He hurried to do as he was
told, grabbing the coal bucket from the storeroom in the kitchen and dragging it back
into the living room. He left the room to grab some wood from outside, and brought
that into the living room as well.
Harry set to work. He removed the fire grate, and lay two sticks of wood down before
throwing a match in on top of them. When they had caught fire, he added a few
lumps of coal and some more wood and watched it burn for a moment. He took hold
of the fire poker, slowly removing it from its place hanging on the mantel, and
prodded at the wood. The fire suddenly blazed brighter.
Vernon snatched the poker out of Harry's hand. "Move, boy." He ordered.
Harry shifted to the side, out of Vernon's reach. He bit his tongue, the sudden pain
taking up all of his focus and stopping him from crying out, "no!" as Vernon threw his
first ever birthday card into the fire. Harry might have remained silent, but he couldn't
quite stop himself from reaching out a hand, hoping desperately to save the card. He

watched it shrivel as the flames licked at its edges, and sniffled.

"You want it back, boy? Take it then." Harry hesitated. "Hurry up!" Vernon barked.
Harry leant forward, falling to his knees, and carefully reaching into the fire. He tried
to find a place to grab the card, a part of it that wasn't blisteringly hot, and his
carefulness cost him. In the time that Harry spent inspecting the card, rather than
just grabbing hold of it, Vernon slammed the poker onto the back of his hand.
Harry cried out, falling forward instinctively to curl around his sore hand. Vernon
smacked him on the back with the poker, and Harry gave another cry.
"You stupid, worthless freak. You don't deserve that card, not from a normal person."
Vernon snarled. He grabbed hold of Harry's neck and pushed the boy forward, into
the fireplace. Harry's hands came out, trying to stop himself from falling into the fire,
and he gave a horrible scream as his hands pressed down onto the wood and coal
and flames. Vernon smirked down on him, but eventually pulled him back by the
scruff of his neck. "Get into your cupboard, freak."
Harry shakily climbed to his feet. Both of his hands were held against his chest
protectively, the palms blistered and the skin of his fingers turning black. He gave a
whimper as he walked, each movement jarring his arms.
"Happy birthday," Vernon called after him, replacing the grate in front of the fire.
XXX
That night, once the Dursleys were asleep, Evan quietly opened the padlock on the
cupboard under the stairs. Harry was wide-awake, the pain in his hands not allowing
him to sleep. His aunt Petunia had come to him just before she went to bed, harshly
wrapping some gaze around his fingers and hands, but not applying any sort of
antiseptic cream. It didn't matter to her that Harry might get an infection and lose the
use of both hands, just as long as the neighbours didn't see the burns.
Green eyes looked up at him, fluttering lightly as they got used to the sudden light.
"Evan?" He asked softly.
"Come outside with me, Caen." He held a hand out, and while Harry didn't take it, he
made no objection to Evan resting the hand on his elbow. The elder Wizard guided
the child outside into the garden. "The wards are not active here. Only within the
house proper." The Death Eater said. "Give me your hands."
Harry held them out. A soft smile flitted across his face as Evan waved his wand and
whispered a healing charm. He could almost envision the skin and muscle fixing

itself, changing colour and growing fresh and healthy over the bone. He rubbed his
nose with one knuckle and winced. His hands still hurt, not as agonizing as when it
happened, and later as the shock wore off, but there was still a dull throb, that flared
brighter and more painful when his hand touched any other part of his body.
"Here," Evan said, handing him two paracetamol, "I swiped them from the medicine
cupboard upstairs." He conjured a teacup filled with water and handed it over. Harry
gratefully swallowed the painkillers and washed them down before handing the cup
back to Evan. "Vanish it," the man said, not reaching out for the cup. Instead, he
handed over the Yew training wand that Lucius had sent him. It had arrived in the
post two nights ago, a fortnight after Lucius had written to Harry about its purchase.
The boy took hold of the wooden handle. This would be his first time using it.
"Evanesco," Harry said clearly. Harry gave a smile as the cup disappeared without a
sound. The wand worked for him, better than using Evan's wand did.
"Good." Evan said. "Name a spell from one of your books?"
Harry had just started reading 'An Introduction to Charms', having finally finished
'An Introduction to the Wizarding World: a Guide for Muggleborns'. The latter
book seemed to go on forever, and yet Harry knew there was so much more he
needed to learn about the world to which he belonged.
He cleared his throat and raised his wand. His eyes narrowed as he focused, trying
to concentrate. "Wingardium Leviosa," he said, being especially careful to pronounce
it 'Levi-Oh-Sa'. At Harry's feet, several pebbles began to wobble, shaking and
spinning around, but only one of them rose up into the air. It moved up, closer and
closer to Harry's wand, at a steady pace until at last it was hovering right in front of
the boy's face.
"Accio pebble," Evan said with a wave of his wand.
"The Summoning Charm." Harry told him, without waiting to be asked. "May I try?"
He waited for Evan to nod, and once the man had, Harry waved his wand in an
imitation of how he had seen Evan do it a moment ago. "Accio pebble," he
whispered, and he waited. The pebble, which lay in the palm of Evan's hand,
wobbled. It jumped a few centimeters, but then fell to the ground and stayed there,
unresponsive.
"That wasn't too bad for your first try." Evan told him, moving to stand closer to the
child. He patted Harry's hand consolingly. "At least you got the stone to move
around. Perhaps you could skip a few chapters, start work on the Healing Charms?

They might come in useful." He cast a look at Harry's hands and the blood stained
bandages. "Muggles," the man spat, as if it was the worst curse word imaginable.
Harry gave him a slight smirk. "Muggles," he said in agreement. "Especially those
ones," he said, pointing at the backdoor of Number 4.
XXX
September 1st 1986. Little Whinging Primary School.
Harry stood at the front gate, deliberating with himself. Should he go inside, or
should he hide out here and hope that no one told the Dursleys that he was absent?
Would anyone even care enough to tell the Dursleys? Mr. Grange might, but then
again Harry hadn't replied to the birthday card, so his math teacher might think he
was rather rude and ungrateful. So he probably wouldn't care much now.
Would Harry even have the same maths teacher as last year, this year, anyway? He
wasn't sure. Petunia and Dudley had gone into the school last week for a meeting
between the teachers, and Harry was supposed to go, but both adult Dursleys
refused to go with him. Harry had walked to the school alone, but the teachers had
refused to speak with him without an adult present. So he had just gone back to
Privet Drive.
All of the other children had disappeared from sight. A bell rang through the
playground, and with a deep breath, Harry stepped off of the pavement and onto the
asphalt that surrounded the school building on all sides. The gate seemed to rise up
behind him the closer he got to the front doors of the school, trapping him inside. He
didn't want to be there, but Evan had insisted his education was important. Evan
wanted him to go to school. Honestly, Harry wanted to go to school as well. He
rather liked learning, he found it interesting and exciting, he loved learning new
things. But he hated going to school with Dudley.
Harry ran inside, making it to the classroom door before the second bell. He had
followed a few children that he recognized from the year before. Dudley stood in the
doorway though, holding the door open for the teacher that was making her way
down the corridor towards them. Harry tried to enter the room, but Dudley pushed
him back.
"Get out of the way, freak," he said. "Here you go, Miss Murphy." A wide smile was
fixed on Dudley's podgy face.
She thanked him as she entered the room, but didn't bother to check whether or not
any more students followed her inside. Dudley let another boy into the room, but

slammed the door in Harry's face. Harry groaned, hearing the crunch of metal as the
bridge of his glasses snapped when the door smacked him. His nose hurt, and a
little blood trickled down onto his lips, but he ignored that. He pulled his glasses off
of his face and frowned down at them. He couldn't see without them, and they were
broken into two parts now. How was he supposed to get through the first day back at
school if he couldn't see anything?
He knocked on the door, but no one answered. Harry waited for a few minutes,
squinting through the A4 sized window in the door, but he couldn't make anyone out
clearly enough to tell what they were doing. He saw someone laughing in his
direction, but he couldn't be sure if it was Dudley, because a lot of the boys in his
class were laughing at him.
The door swung open. "Mr. Potter, if you cannot be bothered to come to class on
time, do not come at all. Go sit in the Headmaster's office. Go, now, boy." Miss
Murphy said sternly, her hands on her hips. The Dursleys had warned her about this
child a week ago. "And do something about those glasses for goodness sake!"
She shut the door again.
Harry sighed as he made his way towards the Headmaster's office, feeling along the
walls so that he didn't bump into anyone going around corners. He hoped they had
some sellotape or glue in the office. Maybe if he asked really nicely, Principal
Harver's secretary might help him fix his glasses.
"You!" Harver said, pointing a finger at Harry as the secretary let him into the office.
"Already? Unbelievable," he said, shaking his head. He was already reaching out for
the phone, calling to let the Dursleys know that Harry Potter had done something
'freakish', or 'weird', or 'naughty' again.
Harry's eyes slid closed: he could already hear the conversation, before either party
even begun to speak. He was well used to getting phone calls home; Dudley blamed
him for everything. Harry had memorized the monologue. Fortunately, Social
Services had picked up their visitation " apparently it was something they did every
year. The visits continued during the school year, but became practically nonexistent during the summer holidays. The Dursleys seemed to have known this.
Vernon hadn't hit Harry as much lately, afraid, maybe, of bruising the boy before
school started up. With a visitation scheduled for the week after next, Harry was
hopeful that his uncle wouldn't punish him too badly.
The office door opened again, and Dudley stumbled into the room. He was red eyed
and wet cheeked and there was a malicious grin on his face. "Sir, Mr. Harver, Sir, is

that my mum?" The Principal nodded. "Harry slammed a door in my face, mummy!"
He whined loudly enough for Petunia to hear over the phone. The sudden
screeching was loud enough for Mr. Harver to need to hold the phone well away
from his ear.
Harry cringed in his seat. Dudley reached over, waiting until the Principal was
occupied with Petunia's phone call, and punched Harry on the shoulder. "Freak," he
spat.
Harry slumped back in his chair, eyes squeezed closed. He really hated going to
school with Dudley.
XXX
* * *
Thanks for reading. Please review, and I promise I'll try not to take as long next time.
Oh, and go read my new Supernatural/Harry Potter crossover.

Chapter 8
At HPFandomNet I rank 7th on their list of the top authors added to members'
favourites lists. That's very cool. Thanks!
* * *
Words: 5,618
Chapter 8
June 5th 1987. Malfoy Manor.
Harry half couldn't believe his eyes. Everywhere he looked, something magical was
looking back at him. The Manor was huge, and beautiful, but not very welcoming.
Harry overlooked that though, because it was magical. In his eyes, there was
nothing wrong with Malfoy Manor if it was surrounded by magic. From the corner of
his eyes he caught sight of a Venus Fly Trap, except this one was twice the height of
Evan and was desperately trying to eat the short, wrinkly creature that was weeding
the ground at its base. And over there were three peacocks, their coats pure white
and one of them had its tale fluffed out, spread wide and white and dazzling. Harry
watched it all through wide eyes as Evan led him up the gravel driveway.
They stopped at the entrance, and Harry looked at the door that rose up and up and
the stone that seemed to arch around them, enclosing them. Evan's hand was warm
and heavy on his shoulder and Harry straightened his spine when Evan squeezed.
The front door slip open, and two more of those strange creatures peered out at him.
In all of Harry's reading, he had never come across anything that looked like them.
But then again, Harry hadn't really gotten around to learning about the magical
creatures of the Wizarding World. It was an elective not available till Third Year. He
had plenty of time for Magical Creatures. All of the important subjects would be
starting in First Year; those were the things that Harry wanted to read about and
practise and learn. Evan had assured him over and over that First Year was little
more than a waste of time. The year was designed, essentially, to cater to the
Muggleborns. Any young Witch or Wizard worth a grain of salt knew most of what
was taught already.
In the Muggle world, they had primary schools that taught children the basics
needed to advance to secondary schools. In the Wizarding world, parents taught
their children what they needed to know, or hired tutors to teach their children. But
either way, children had sound basic knowledge of magic before they ever set foot

into a magic school. Except for the Mudbloods, and some of the Half-Bloods.
Harry was determined not to be one of those types.
He wanted to learn everything he possibly could. He wanted to be brilliant, like Evan
told him he would be. "What are those?" He whispered to Evan.
"House Elves." The elder Wizard told him in an equally quiet voice. The dark haired
man nodded at one of the Elves as he led his son into the Manor. "When you arrive
home, I expect you to have found out what a House Elf is, do you understand?"
Harry smiled softly, tilting his head up to catch Evan's expression. "I understand," he
paused, "that you don't know, and so you cannot tell me."
The Death Eater snorted, "think of it as another assignment. You'll have plenty of
those to do once you start Hogwarts." Harry's first assignment from Evan was to
master one of the Unforgivables. Realistically, it would be impossible for a child, but
Evan had always enjoyed setting the bar high. Understandably, Harry had failed to
cast any of the three forbidden spells " he hadn't even managed to make his wand
shoot off sparks. But Evan wasn't disappointed. At least Harry had trusted him
enough to try the spells.
"This way, Mr. Alfred, Sir." On of the Elves said, bowing low as Evan walked passed
him.
"Be aware," he told Harry in a soft voice, "that many of Lucius' associates are
followers of my Lord. It would serve you well not to say anything derogatory about
the Dark Lord." Harry nodded his head, but didn't answer.
The Elves pushed open a second set of doors, and waved them both forward, up a
flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs, one more Elf waited. She pushed the door
open and cleared her throat. "Mr. Tennyson Alfred." She announced, "and his son,
Caen. Please enter the Ballroom, deposit presents on that table, and enjoy your stay
at Malfoy Manor," she added in a quieter voice.
Harry looked in the direction the she-Elf had pointed and tried not to gape. It was
Draco's 7th birthday party, and the table was filled with presents on top of presents.
If not for magic, Harry thought the table might have collapsed under the weight. The
small, brightly coloured box he held in his hands looked so insignificant compared to
all of the other gifts Draco had already received. Larger gifts, moving gifts, floating
gifts, better wrapped gifts: Harry's gift was unimpressive. It was a book, a Muggle
one at that, about a man who could read stories to life, who could literally make the
characters come out of the books, but had to sacrifice one of the people around him

to enter the book in return.1 Harry had read it in the library at school and had loved
it, and he had wanted to share the story with Draco.
He and Draco weren't very good friends, but Draco was the only friend Harry had.
Evan assured him that they would grow closer the more time they spent together,
and when Harry had asked what would happen if he and Draco ended up in different
Houses at Hogwarts, Evan had assured him that friends were a weakness Harry
probably couldn't afford to have. To say Harry had been confused would have been
an understatement, but he had brushed it off as one of those strange things that you
only understood 'when you're older'.
"Caen!" Draco called out. The elder blond boy made his way to Harry's side, instantly
reaching out for the box in Harry's hands. "Is this for me? What is it?"
"Wait until later, Draco, and you can open it and find out," Lucius chided, as he
magically appeared at Draco's side. His eyes were fixed on Harry's face even as he
spoke to his son. "It was a pleasant surprise when you wrote of your intention to
attend today. You will be staying the night, yes?" Lucius questioned, holding a hand
out. Harry took it, and Lucius brought it to his mouth for a quick kiss. Harry gave a
nod. "Good. I'll have to make sure I give you a tour before you leave."
"They've gone away for the weekend," Evan told him, not needing to explain who
they were. "Caen won't be expected back until tomorrow morning. A neighbour is
supposed to be minding him, until they come back."
"And yourself?" Lucius asked tensely. He might have gotten used to writing to Evan,
and spending time discussing Harry with Evan, but he still hated the idea of Rosier in
his house while his son was there.
"I wouldn't leave my child alone. I will be here."
"If you insist." Lucius said stiffly. He took the gift from Harry and placed handed it to
the Elf that was by his side. The House Elf put the book on the table with the other
presents and disappeared from sight. "The adults are remaining here. Draco will
stay, until the last guest has arrived, and then he will be joining the other children in
the Ruby Lounge. They may do as they wish to entertain themselves, but any doors
that are locked are to remain locked, ok Caen?"
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy."
"Call me Lucius, please?" He asked with a smile. Evan resisted the urge to chuckle,
instead, he allowed Lucius to guide Harry in the direction of the doorway, while he
hung back. "You will spend the night. There are plenty of rooms to spare after all.

And in the morning you and your father will return home."
"How?" Harry asked.
"How did you arrive?"
"By the Knight Bus." The child turned his head to look back into the room. Evan was
standing where they had left him, watching with a smirk on his face and narrowed
eyes. Draco had gone away, and Harry could see him speaking with another adult in
the corner of the room.
"I suppose you could summon the Bus again, or use the floo. Though, I suppose
your Muggles are not connected to the floo network?"
"No." Harry gave a scowl. The Muggles were not his: he wanted nothing to do with
them.
"Pity." Lucius stopped outside of a room and pushed open the cherry wood door. The
room was done in shades of red and brown, and overall it looked very Autumn-y.
Harry smiled softly as he walked inside. "This is Caen Alfred, the son of a friend of
mine. Introduce yourselves at your convenience," he told the other children. Lucius
pressed another kiss to Harry's hand, before he left the room. Leaving Harry alone
with nine other children.
An hour later, Draco finally joined them. "Let's play hide and seek." He suggested,
"I'll count first. But remember, no hiding behind locked doors. Father says you should
stay away from those rooms." Some of the children were Hogwarts age, and knew
how to cast Alohamora correctly. Purposely cancelling a locking spell would mean
you forfeit the game, and would face the wrath of Lucius Malfoy.
The children ran from the room as Draco started to count. Harry walked slowly,
casually, with his head held high. Evan said he was never to run, unless it was for
his life. At any other time, he was to move with decorum and grace. The Dark Lord
would accept no less from an equal. The idea of being on par with the Dark Lord of
the century brought a smile to Harry's face.
He noticed how some of the children kept bypassing one particular door, and while
his instincts told him that it was probably locked, he could resist trying the handle.
There was something inside the room, calling to him, and Harry needed to know
what it was. Harry's fingers closed around the doorknob, and a strange tingling
spread through his hand for a moment before it disappeared. The door swung
inwards with ease. It hadn't been locked after all, Harry thought, entering the room
slowly.

There wasn't much out of the ordinary in there. It appeared to be a study, with a
large oak desk and stacks and stacks of books. They caught Harry's interest, but
before he could go towards the first row of shelves, something else caught his eye. A
black book lay open on the desk, its pages blank and slightly yellowed with age. This
was what he had come looking for. This was what had been calling to him.
He picked the book up and closed it, turning it over in his hands. On the front, was
'T.M.R.', engraved in gold. Harry frowned, something about the letters triggered a
memory, but he wasn't sure what of. Did he know someone with those initials? He
went to open the book again, flicking through the pages, his mind wild with curiosity,
and then a hand fell onto his shoulder. With a startled gasp, Harry spun around,
dropping the book onto the floor.
Lucius was standing behind him, his face a blank mask. Evan stood in the threshold,
leaning against the doorframe. "Did you open the door, Caen?" Rosier asked.
"The door wasn't locked, I swear. It opened the second I touched it." Harry protested
as he bent down to retrieve the book. Lucius took it from him and placed it in the top
draw of his desk, murmuring a locking spell.
"You broke through a locking spell and my wards when you entered the room."
Lucius told him. He took a seat, turning the desk chair around so he was facing
Harry. Evan moved behind his child and frowned at the blond. "Though, if Evan is
correct " no, I know Evan is correct, so maybe that explains it. If he is a part of you,
and he is keyed to my wards, perhaps that is why the door did not wish to remain
locked as you sought to enter?"
"Huh?" Harry asked ineloquently.
Evan crossed the room again, shutting and locking the door. He came back over to
Harry and grabbed him by both shoulders. "I think it is time I taught you about
Horcruxes." The elder brunette said.
"He knows of our Lord?" Lucius asked, hesitantly. He was unsure about how much
information Evan had disclosed to the child. Draco knew the basics, of course, but
just because Lucius believed their Lord would return did not mean he believed Draco
shouldn't have a worry free childhood. "How much?"
"Lord Voldemort," Harry said slowly, "graduated Hogwarts in the late 1940s.
Disappeared for a decade or so around the early 1950s, and rose to power in the
1970s. He tried to kill me in 1981 but was somehow defeated, though Evan insists
he will return. I plan to help, but I don't know how yet. Voldemort had followers,
named the Death Eaters, who would do their Lord's bidding for them. Striking terror,

kidnapping, murdering. They wore black robes and white masks. Why did they wear
masks?" Harry asked suddenly. "Everyone here is a Death Eater, and you obviously
all know each other, so why hide your identity? I mean, not just on raids, but Evan
said you wore masks to Voldemort's meetings as well."
"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will
tell you the truth."2 Evan gave a slow smirk as Harry tried to puzzle it out.
"So," Harry said, a smirk of his own on his face. "When you weren't wearing a mask,
you all were lying to Lord Voldemort, then?"
"There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable."3 Evan
replied, his smirk widening. "But we are getting away from the topic at hand. Lucius
would you care to explain about the Horcruxes?"
Up until his name was mentioned, Lucius was watching both brunettes with an
expression of profound confusion. He shook his head and blinked, before clearing
his throat. "From what I have learnt, a Horcrux is a magical item that, with the help of
a incantation, can house a portion of your soul. It anchors your soul to the earth."
"So you cannot die? Even if you are killed?" Harry questioned turning to Evan, his
eyes wide.
"Yes. Our Lord has a Horcrux. Several in fact, though we are unaware of how many.
That diary is one." Harry's eyes flickered to the draw in the desk and back to Evan.
"Bellatrix Lestrange, another Death Eater, though she is in prison-"
Harry butted in, "the one who tortured the Longbottoms?"
"Yes. It is nice to know you listen when I talk." Harry rolled his eyes, but Evan
ignored him. "Bellatrix is in possession of a Horcrux. And so am I."
"What is it? What do you have?" Both of the adults looked at him, mouths tight and
faces blank. "Me? Is that even poss- me? Why me?"
"I believe it was accidental on our Lord's part. You were, after all, supposed to die
that night. But you survived, and so did a portion of our Lord's soul." Evan's eyes had
strayed up to the lightening bolt-shaped scar on Harry's forehead. Hidden beneath
Muggle make up, it was out of sight, but apparently not out of mind.
"I want nothing but death."4 Harry said at last, his voice breathy and soft. "Why is he
so afraid to die?"

Evan shrugged his shoulders. It was Lucius that answered, finally picking up on the
fact that for most of the conversation, Harry and Evan had been quoting other
people's opinions. "No life that breathes with human breath has ever truly longed for
death."5
Harry scowled at the blond. "What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the
master calls a butterfly."6 He folded his arms over his chest and said, "The purpose
of life is death. There really is no point in fearing something that comes naturally.
Without death, there is no need to live, truly live, and not just exist."
Evan chuckled heartily, reaching out to ruffle Harry's hair. "Life is pleasant. Death is
peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome."7
"You're right," Harry said, the scowl slipping from his face. "Dying is easy, comedy is
hard."8 He gave a grin of his own, raising a hand to hide it, as Lucius gave a soft
chuckle. Lucius had a nice laugh, Harry decided. "So I'm a Horcrux then?" He asked.
"Yes. And that is how you'll be helping our Lord. His soul will be searching for you,
for the piece of himself inside of you. No doubt, he's getting closer and closer to
England as we speak. Wherever he is hiding now, he won't remain there much
longer. You have a lot to learn before he returns." Evan told him. "You are a part of
him. One and the same, essentially. And I plan for you to be his Heir " the child he
will never have. And for my plan to succeed, you have a lot of hard work ahead of
you."
"Once you give a charlatan power over you, you almost never get it back."9 Harry
smirked, turning around to face Evan.
The man scowled down at him, before his expression smoothed out. "I wouldn't talk
like that in front of the others. And it's 'Lord Voldemort' to you, just so you know."
Evan ushered Harry out of the door and back to the rest of the children. Lucius
watched him go, his head tilted to the side and a small sly twist to his lips.
Draco literally bumped into Harry on his way back to the Ruby Lounge. The younger
blond scowled. "The whole point of hide and seek, Caen, is that you have to hide
and I have to seek you."
"Are we still playing?" Harry asked curiously. He had been talking to the others for so
long it seemed.
"Yes. You and one other haven't been found yet. But, well, you've been found now."
Draco nodded goodbye, and carried on searching the floor for the last remaining
participant in the game. Harry let himself into the Lounge and smiled at the kids who

all unhesitantly smiled back at a friend of Lord Malfoy.

XXX
July 31st 1988. Little Whinging.
The year had seemed to fly by. Social Services were firmly set to take him and
Dudley away come September and the Dursleys were so flustered about losing their
precious son they had practically forgotten that Harry existed. Harry hoped
desperately that they didn't remember him any time soon.
"Evan," Harry whispered as he peered down the stairs leading to the basement.
"Remember, the social worker wants to look all over the house. That includes the
basement, so you have to take down the Muggle Repelling wards tonight, ok?" He
didn't get a response, but he knew Evan was listening.
It was out of habit, more than because of any orders, but Harry spent the day
cleaning the kitchen.
In the basement, Evan spoke into the cordless phone, having snuck it down earlier
while the Dursleys were visiting their solicitor, seeking to keep custody of Dudley.
The Death Eater smirked at the trouble he was causing, but he didn't care at the
moment. Come September, Harry would be out of this house. Perhaps Lucius would
be able to help Evan adopt him, and they could both move to Malfoy Manor until
Harry was old enough for Hogwarts? It was a nice thought, but not very practical.
Aurors still conducted random searches of the Manor, and Lucius would undoubtedly
not appreciated being caught with a 'dead' Death Eater and the Boy-Who-Lived
hidden in his home.
It didn't matter where they lived anyway. As long as Harry was out of this house "
and because of Muggle authorities and through no doing of his own " they would be
out of reach of the blood wards. Their protection and tracking spells would be
useless, and Evan could disappear with his child until they absolutely had to come
back to their World.
He hung up the phone. The sooner the better Voldemort re-emerged, he thought, the
easier life would be.
XXX
July 31st 1988. Grunnings.
When his supervisor called Vernon into his office, the fat Muggle was deliriously

pleased. He was absolutely certain he was about to receive the promotion everyone
had been whispering about. He took a seat opposite Mr. Mason and offered a wide
smile.
Anthony cleared his throat nervously, not returning his smile. "I've just received some
horrible news. Why didn't you tell me Social Services were investigating your family,
Vernon?"
"Oh! That, nasty business, that!" He grunted. "My boy is fine, of course. But that
nephew of ours, we could never manage him. Wild ruffian, like his father, that one.
Totally out of control. Those social workers," Vernon scoffed, "don't have a clue, but
they'll see. The boy is unnatural, and I'm glad they're taking him away. They won't
get Dudley, though, you'll see. Mark my words, Dudley will stay with Petunia and I."
Anthony Mason cleared his throat again. "Yes, well, regardless, we've received
some, uh, complaints about employing a, uh, well, a child abuser." Anthony wiped at
his forehead with a handkerchief, watching his main drill-worker warily.
"I... don't understand." Vernon said at last. His normally red face had gone waxen
and pale.
"I'm afraid I'll have to let you go, Vernon, old boy. Dreadfully sorry, but as you said
yourself, nasty, nasty business." He stood from his chair, and walked around to
Vernon's side of the table. He gave the man a pat on the back. "After it's all sorted,
come back to me, eh? I'll give you another interview and we'll go from there. What'd
you say?" He held the door open, and nodded towards it.
Vernon stood, moving towards the door on autopilot. He wasn't sure what to say, so
he said nothing. He left the room, but stopped Mr. Mason from closing the door in his
face. "Who complained?" He asked, desperate to know.
"Uh, a few teachers at the school your boys go to. One or two women from around
your neighbourhood, a Mrs. Figg was particularly angry with you. And, uh, well the
strangest complaint came from your own address, Vernon."
The door closed then, and Vernon stared at it for a moment. His hands clenched into
fists. Petunia would never have complained about him. She would never have cost
him his job. Dudley might have been spiteful enough to get Vernon in trouble at
work, if only because Vernon didn't seem to be wanting to keep Dudley with them
(he did, they did, but Dudley didn't understand that legal matters took precious time),
but Dudley didn't know his work number. The Figg lady might have made the phone
call from his house, while poking her nose into their business. But he doubted it.
That only left one other person.

It would not be a good idea to attack the boy. He couldn't. That social worker was
coming on the 2nd August, and she would obviously notice if something was wrong
with him. Didn't she mention that all children had to attend a mandatory hospital
check up? Shit! He definitely couldn't attack the boy if that were the case.
Vernon decided to drive to the pub closest to his house and drown his sorrows.
Maybe he would pass out, and when he woke up this day would have been nothing
but a horrible, horrible dream. What was it his mother used to tell him? Everything
looks better in the morning light. He squinted out through his windscreen at the sun.
Perhaps the sun had to set first, and then rise again, before things looked better?
"That nephew of yours," someone slurred at him as he took a seat at the bar, "he'll
be a looker when he's older." Vernon grunted in reply, ignoring the sound of the man
slurping at his beer. "Such a pretty boy. Gonna grow up nice and pretty, have all the
boys and girls begging for his attention. I used to be a looker too, y'know. Before I
got old." Vernon turned to the man beside him. It was an old man who lived on Mrs.
Figg's road, but wasn't known to do much other than tell wild stories about his glory
days and drink.
"That freak will amount to nothing. And he certainly isn't good looking." Vernon
snarled. "My Dudders is a better looking bloke by far."
"Still say he's pretty. Small, though, kinda like a girl. Such a pretty girl." The man
moaned, laying his head on the bar and closing his eyes. Vernon watched him as he
drifted to sleep, frowning.
"Fucking queer," he hissed, ordering three beers at the once. When he was finished
them, he ordered a whiskey, and then a double whiskey, and then two more, and he
drank them all consecutively.
"I don't think you should drive. You only live a little ways away," the owner of the pub
cautioned, "walk home. Pick up the car tomorrow. The fresh air will do you some
good."
It was still light outside when Vernon started on his way home. He stumbled passed
the park, ignoring the scandalized looks several mothers gave him. A few kids
looked ready to hustle him, but then recognize him as 'Big D's' father and thought
better of it. Vernon heard two girls talking about Dudley and gave a lopsided smile as
he heard the word 'cute', and then he scowled when he realized they were actually
talking about Harry. He walked faster, slipping on the tarmac, but he didn't fall. He
refused to look over at the girls who obviously had no taste, and turned onto his
street.

Petunia took one look at the state of him when he entered the house and wrinkled
her nose. "Dudley!" She called up the stairs, "pack a bag."
She never liked it when Vernon was angry. He loved her, dearly, but even she wasn't
safe from his temper when he had too much to drink. Petunia noticed Vernon eyeing
the cupboard under the stairs, and bit her tongue. She didn't like her nephew and
she was actually looking forward to Social Services taking him away, but the look in
Vernon's eyes as he opened the cupboard door " he looked ready to kill the boy. She
didn't want Potter's kind showing up, accusing her husband of murder. She
remembered the horror stories Lily had told her about Wizarding prisons, and she
knew it was no place for her kind hearted husband.
"Don't do anything stupid, dear," Petunia warned, once she was outside of the front
door. "Call when it's safe." She ushered Dudley down the road to the bus stop. She
didn't even care enough to shout a warning to Harry.
The cupboard was empty, but Vernon found Harry sitting at the top of the stairs
leading to the basement. The door was open, and the Muggle Repelling wards had
been removed, but the silencing charm was still in place. Vernon wasn't suddenly
overcome with the urge to be somewhere else, like he had been in the past. He
snarled, knowing without a doubt that the strange occurrences he had experienced
around the basement door in the years passed was due to Harry's unnaturalness.
The boy's hair was getting long, it was almost to his shoulders, and Vernon
drunkenly noted that it did make him look sort of like a girl. Pretty girl, the old man in
the pub had said, pretty girl, pretty girl, pretty, pretty"
"Pretty," Vernon rasped, his mouth suddenly dry. He lurched towards Harry, reaching
out unsteadily to grab the boy's shoulder. Harry rose to his feet, licking his lips and
stepping backwards. He looked about ready to flee into the basement " probably
hoping his strangeness would stop Vernon following, no doubt " but the Muggle
pulled him closer. When Harry was away from the door, Vernon slammed it shut and
placed his back against it. "You had it coming. All the times we hurt you," he slurred.
Most of his words weren't understandable, and Harry's forehead creased in
confusion, wondering what had happened to set his uncle off this time. It had been
half a year since the man had hurt him last.
"You're a freak!" Vernon spat, "you've done something to me. Ruining my life, getting
me fired, taking Dudley away, and now- now I think you're pretty! Filthy freak. What
have you DONE?" He roared, leaning down, his face against Harry's. Before Harry
could protest, Vernon had crushed their mouths together. The kiss was sloppy and

disgusting, and Harry struggled, trying to get away. Vernon's hands grabbed on to
him, one on his head and the other around his waist, pinning him to Vernon's chest.
"Pretty," he panted as he pulled back, ignoring the wide paniced eyes of his nephew,
and leaned down to steal another kiss.
Harry tried to scream, but Vernon's mouth muffled the noise. The hand slipped from
his waist to the front of Vernon's trousers and the opened the zip. He took hold of
Harry's hand, forcing it down the front of his pants.
"Make some use of yourself, boy," the Muggle panted, rocking his hips forward
against the hand. He was still holding onto it, forcing it to move against his cock,
pressing Harry's palm down onto the hardened flesh. Harry's hand was small and
soft and warm, and Vernon could pretend it was a woman's. Petunia had been
having headaches for the last couple of nights, and Vernon figured it was about time
he was given some sort of reward for putting up with the boy's freakishness for all
these years.
His face was on Harry's again, and despite the boy's struggles, he couldn't get away.
Pots and pans were floating in mid air, knives and forks were spinning around
frantically in the sink, as Harry's magic began to react to his fear. Picture frames
shook on the walls, but Vernon didn't notice. He had managed to get his trousers
down to his knees, exposing himself completely. Vernon tried to force Harry down
onto his knees but Harry fought him, refusing to submit.
Alcohol fogging his brain still, Vernon forgot that he wasn't suppose to mark Harry.
Angry that the boy wouldn't do as he wanted, Vernon backhanded Harry across the
face. The force of the smack sent Harry sprawling. He was lying on his back on the
floor, a mark already forming on his cheek, when Vernon straddled his hips. Harry
was forced to roll over, lying on his stomach, with one of Vernon's hands clasped
over his mouth. Vernon's other hand tugged at the hand-me-down trousers that
Harry was wearing. They were loose enough that they slip down his hips without
needing to be unfastened. Vernon ran a hand over Harry's bare buttocks, licking his
dry lips.
He needed another drink suddenly, but if he left Harry would probably try to escape.
The brat was disobedient like that.
"Shut up whining," Vernon snarled, squeezing his hand around Harry's jaw. "You're
finally doing something right for once. This is what you were born to be, freak. You'll
never be any good for anything else."
While Vernon was distracted, stroking his own length, and figuring out how he was

actually supposed to penetrate the boy while Harry's legs were locked together
(pinned like that by Vernon's thighs), Harry's hands grabbed at the one Vernon had
over his mouth. He pulled it away, and sucked in a deep breath.
"EVAN!" He roared, tears glistening on his face.
"Who are you talking to, freak?" Vernon asked, as he slid back along Harry's legs,
trying to find a better position.
"Me," Evan snarled. He appeared at the top of the stairs looking like a Fury. Dressed
all in black, his cloak billowing around his ankles and his hood covering his face, with
a wand pointed at the half-naked Muggle, he was Death incarnate.
But Vernon was too intoxicated to be afraid. "Who are you?" He slurred.
"I was the kid next door's imaginary friend."10 He raised his wand, but Harry
screamed:
"No magic!" They were within the wards.
Evan's wand hit the floor with a 'thump', and in the next second " the time it took
Vernon to realize this was another Wizard " Evan had launched himself across the
kitchen and tackled Vernon off of Harry. The child curled in on himself, trembling as
he watched his 'father'. Evan's hands were around Vernon's throat and he squeezed
and squeezed until the Muggle was blue in the face. Vernon's eyes were bugging
out and they rolled in his sockets before fixing on Harry for a moment and then
rolling back into his head.
Evan's hands continued to choke the man, long after he had stopped breathing.
When he finally brought himself to let go, Harry was staring at him with wide eyes.
"What have you done?" He breathed, pulling up his trousers.
"What I should have done a long time ago." He reached forward and dragged the
boy into his lap. He held Harry tightly, and if asked he would have denied crying. But
the boy could feel the tears falling onto his hair and running down over his cheeks,
mixing with tears of his own. Vernon's corpse lay beside them, ignored, as the two
Wizard clung to each other until the after the sunset.
Even though he was crying, Harry couldn't help but smile. Vernon was dead.
Life was looking up.

XXX
1 " Inkheart. But I don't remember whom it is by... I have it upstairs somewhere.
2 " "Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he
will tell you the truth." " Oscar Wilde.
3 " "There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable." "
Mark Twain.
4 " "I want nothing but death." " Jane Austen.
5 " "No life that breathes with human breath has ever truly longed for death." " Alfred,
Lord Tennyson, 'The Two Voices'.
6 " "What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly." "
Richard Bach. It's like saying 'death is but the next great adventure'.
7 " "Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome." " Isaac
Asimov.
8 " "Dying is easy, comedy is hard."- George Bernard Shaw.
9 " "Once you give a charlatan power over you, you almost never get it back." " Carl
Sagan. Harry doesn't actually mean this one: he is just teasing Evan.
10 " "I was the kid next door's imaginary friend." " Emo Philips.
* * *
Also, I wanted to point something out. When people get angry at me because the
adults in Harry's life ignore the fact that he is so obviously abused, don't get mad. I'm
following canon. Seriously, if JK's adults were any good, Harry would never have
remained at the Dursleys. The adult Dursleys, upstanding citizens that they are,
have poisoned the minds of anyone willing to listen, until eventually they all believe
that Harry belongs at St Brutus' School for Incurably Criminal Boys.
I wouldn't be surprised, if in canon, Aurors randomly Obliviated any Muggle who so
much as thought of helping Harry out. Social Services don't suck that badly, most of
the time.
As for Dudley " I'm basing him off of a boy I actually knew growing up. He was a little
shit in school, but not to me. I would have beaten him up, and he knew it!

To be perfectly honest with you, if you have a problem with the abuse, stop reading.
Better yet, why did you start reading in the first place? You should have checked the
warnings first.
As to the semi-attempted-rape: after all of the things Evan allowed them to do to
Harry, it would have needed to be something terrible for Evan to lose control and
retaliate like that. It was also in the warnings.
* * *
Thanks for reading. Please review? And I hope this chapter didn't take too long,
grin?

Chapter 9
My friend, Mykaila, came back from Turkey this week. She bought me a diary (and
Sarah said it was expensive, because she got one last year) and it looks just like
Tom Riddle's, except that the cover is leather with metal corners. It even has yellow
pages. I said it was brilliant when I thanked her. Her brother said, "Until it starts
writing back". Grin. Thought I'd share my amusement. Mykaila didn't get it, cause
she doesn't like Harry Potter, but Andrew and me found it funny.
* * *
Words: 3,435
Chapter 9
July 31st 1988. Little Whinging.
The phone was ringing.
Evan knew he should answer it, but he didn't want to let Harry go. His arms
tightened around the boy, pulling their bodies closer together. Harry's face was
pressed against his neck, and Evan had felt the tears stop some time ago, but he
hadn't let go then, and he wouldn't let go now.
"You should answer the phone," the Death Eater told Harry. The child just nuzzled
his face against Evan's neck in response. Neither of them made to get up.
The answering machine picked up, and Evan turned his head to face Vernon's
corpse as the woman from social services started speaking down the line.
"Hello, this is Amelia Denning. I am ringing to remind you of our visit in two days
time. There are just a few things we need to go over with your solicitor, so if you
could call me back and give me their phone number, I would grateful appreciate it. I
will see you soon, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley."
A beep filled the room as the woman hung up.
"What are we going to do?" Harry whispered, pulling away from Evan.
The elder Wizard stood, helping the child up as well. "The same thing we do every
night, Pinkie." He grinned, leading Harry towards the back door. "Try to take over the
world."

"I'm being serious!"

"So am I!" The man mocked. He pulled his wand out, once they were outside of the
range of the wards and pointed it at his throat. Harry didn't hear what he said, but the
next time he spoke, he sounded like Vernon Dursley. "Go inside and find a scissors,
or a razor. I'm going to put the Muggle in the basement, and put back up the wards.
Don't worry; I'll take them down before Social Services arrive! I'm going to get
Lucius. While I'm gone, I want you to remove all of the Muggle's hair. All of it, Harry,
understand?"
"Even... down there?" The child asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
"Wipe that look off of your face. I'm the one who has to ingest it." Harry gave him a
confused look, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to think of any reason for Evan
needing to eat hair.
"A potion? Which one?"
"You'll see." Evan ushered them into the house again and moved towards the phone.
He dialled Petunia's mobile number. The Dursleys were one of those families who
left their address books, fully filled out, right beside their phone. When the phone
picked up, he began to talk. "Pet, I was thinking, maybe you should take Dudley to a
hotel, stay a few days. Until it's safe."
"Vernon, what happened?" Petunia breathed. Evan could almost imagine her
clutching at her chest as she spoke. "Was it... his kind?"
"I didn't mean to, pet. I swear. But he made me so angry. Maybe you should keep
Dudley away, just for a while, just until I know they aren't watching anymore."
"Did you hurt him?" She asked, her voice cool, but not accusing.
"Yes. But he'll be fine, pet. Wasn't anything the little freak didn't have coming
anyway." Evan scowled. He knew he was speaking, but it was Vernon's voice he
could hear and he could see Harry flinching at the words. It left a sour taste in his
mouth. "I have to go now," he said, cutting into whatever she was in the process of
saying. He had the overwhelming need to get off of the phone. "Bye." He hung up.
Her 'I love you' was interrupted by the ring tone, and Evan dropped the phone and
dragged Harry into a hug.
He couldn't cancel the spell on his voice until he left the house. "I need to leave now.
I'll move the Muggle first." Harry was holding a scissors and a roll of zip-lock bags
when Evan came out of the basement. "The wards are up. Get started, I'll be back

soon."
XXX
July 31st 1988. Malfoy Manor.
Evan hadn't apparated in so long. The trip from Surrey to the Leaky Cauldron had
left him dizzy and out of sorts. The barman, Tom, had taken pity on him and handed
him a shot of Firewhiskey without needing to be asked. Once Evan had paid for the
drink, Tom handed over a bag of floo powder, absolutely free.
"Help yourself," he said, slapping Evan lightly on the shoulder. "How's your boy?" He
asked then, waiting for an answer before walking away.
Evan stepped out of the fireplace in Lucius' study without a speck of dust on him. He
brushed down his arms anyway, giving a stiff nod at the blond who was watching
him. Draco was in the room as well, standing as close to his father's side as he could
manage. When Evan was clear of the fireplace, Draco came forward, waiting for
Caen to floo through.
"He isn't coming." Evan said rather rudely. "I need to speak with you, Lucius." The
blond's eyebrows rose, but he stood up from his chair and moved towards his fellow
Death Eater. "He's dead. And I find myself in need of your assistance once again."
Lucius smoothed down his robes, offering a reassuring smile at his son and moved
towards the fireplace. "Don't worry, Draco. I'm sure Caen is fine. Mr. Alfred is
speaking of someone else." Hesitantly, Draco allowed Evan to shoo him from the
study. "Evan! What have you done?" The blond hissed, grabbing the bowl of floo
powder off of the mantelpiece.
"What I needed to do." Evan took a handful, but it slid through his fingers as he
clenched his hand in anger. "He had his hands all over... he was trying to force
himself on... he had no right! He deserved worse than I gave him, Lucius." He took
the bowl off of Lucius, hands clenching tightly around the rim.
"You know how much trouble you've probably caused? A MONTH, Evan, just one
more month and Harry would have been out of there anyway. You couldn't wait?"
The blond Wizard scolded, his face pinched with anger.
"He was trying to rape my son." Evan roared the r-word, throwing the bowl towards
the fireplace, where it shattered with a crash. "If it were Draco, if I had Draco pinned
down, naked, and was trying to force him, fuck him, what would you do? Would you
have waited?" Evan sneered. He reached out to grab Lucius, but the man snapped

his right arm forward, wand outstretched and pointed at the brunette.
"I would have disarmed you, and allowed the authorities to do their job." Lucius said,
his voice tense and his back stiff.
Evan eyed his left hand, which was clenched so tightly the knuckles had turned bone
white. "Liar." The animagus snarled. "You would have killed me, and loved every
moment of it. I have no regrets."
Lucius lowered his wand. "You've probably terrified Harry, you know." He clicked his
fingers, and a House Elf appeared. They watched in silence as the creature cleaned
up the broken shards and dashes of floo powder. A new bowl replaced the old one
on the mantelpiece before the creature popped out of the room.
"I've seen you. You watch him when you think I'm not looking. You stare at him, at
my son, and I have done nothing to you. Nothing. I have let you watch him, fantasise
about him, because I know you would not hurt him." Lucius had gone impossibly still,
his pale cheeks flushed in embarrassment and shame. He watched Evan now,
cautiously raising his wand again. "Do you honestly believe Harry's first time should
have been underneath that disgusting Muggle? Would that not have terrified him
more than my actions?"
Lucius' expression changed again, his lips curled upwards into a sneer, and his eyes
darkened in anger. "I believe you should have waited. For me." Sparks jetted from
the end of Lucius' wand. Anger at the thought of anyone touching Harry spiked
through him. "How can I be of assistance?" He asked some time later, when he had
calmed.
"Firstly, I will continue to allow your fascination to flourish, as long as nothing occurs
against Harry's will or inclination. You will not hurt my son." Lucius nodded in
agreement. He had no intention of acting on any sort of desire with a child who
hadn't even reached Hogwarts age yet. "You are friends with Snape, are you not? I
need a Potion from him."
"How is that going to help you? The Muggle is dead! What will you tell the Aurors?"
"Tell them? Why, nothing, Lucius. I will be taking the Polyjuice Potion that you will
insist Severus makes for you. Maybe you could pretend Draco has taken an interest
in learning, and Severus can brew it as an example?"
"You wish to involve Draco?" Lucius asked with narrowed eyes.
"It is about time the child learnt who Harry really is." Evan shrugged. "The woman

will be away from the house for a few days. She always flees when the Muggle starts
drinking. I informed her that she should stay away for a little while longer. Social
Services are visiting in two days. Without the Muggle there, with me as the Muggle, it
should not be too hard to change their minds. Harry will be safer if he does not leave
that house."
"And it affords you the time to torment the remaining two Muggles, no?" Lucius
smirked.
"That hadn't even occurred to me," Evan said with a snort. "Floo Snape. I need that
potion by tomorrow." Evan stepped back into the fireplace, and threw down a handful
of powder. "The Leaky Cauldron."
"I'll meet you there," Lucius told him, just before Evan disappeared in a puff of green
smoke.
XXX
July 31st 1988. Little Whinging.
Harry had left the bags of hair in the basement, beside Vernon's body. He was sitting
in the kitchen with Mrs. Figg, staring out into the garden as the woman spoke about
her dead husband. Evan and Lucius apparated into the garden at the same time.
Harry's eyes widened as he turned to face Mrs. Figg. Fortunately, the old woman
had missed the arrival of the two Death Eaters because her purse had fallen onto
the floor and she was busy scooping up her belongings.
"Uh," Harry started, before clearing his throat. When he spoke again, he was
practically shouting, wanting to make sure that Evan could hear him. "Mrs. Figg,
thank you for stopping by, but you really don't have to wait. Uncle Vernon told Aunt
Petunia to take Dudley to a hotel for a few nights. They won't be back any time
soon."
Arabella frowned, "than you can't stay here alone. Come on, young man, you can
stay with me." She straightened up and grabbed hold of Harry's arm. Surprisingly
strong, she managed to drag Harry from his chair.
Vernon's voice suddenly filtered through from the garden, but when Harry looked
there was no sign of anybody. Lucius had disillusioned them both, and Evan had
changed his voice again. He kicked the garden fence, muttering, "Bloody gate.
Should make the boy fix it. Blinding hell! Think I just got a splinter. Blasted fence." He
kicked it again.

Mrs. Figg watched with wide eyes. "You said they were gone?"
"No, no," Harry corrected in a whisper, "just Aunt Petunia and Dudley."
"Oh well that changes things then. I suppose I can't just drag you off, though god
knows that man wouldn't care what happened to you. Well, dear, I better leave."
Harry walked her to the door and smiled as she pulled him into a quick hug. "Happy
birthday, sweetheart."
Harry watched until she was out of sight before closing the door and running back to
the kitchen. "It's ok now." Evan and Lucius appeared again, and entered the kitchen.
"How are you?" Lucius asked, reaching out to squeeze the boy's hand softly. Evan
suppressed a chuckle, his fingers against his mouth as he tried to hide how his lips
twitched. Lucius immediately dropped the hand, not moving to place a kiss against it
this time, and took a step away from the eight-year-old.
"Have you finished?" Evan asked. He slung an arm around Harry's shoulders and
pulled the boy against his side.
"Yes, they are in the basement with him."
"Go wait in the garden." He told Harry. Harry walked outside as Evan led Lucius
down into the basement.
They came out a moment later, struggling to carry the large body between them.
They had levitated him up the basement stairs, but had to cancel the charm as they
made their way through the kitchen. A flick of Lucius' wand disrupted the earth
beside Harry's feet. He scrambled backwards, afraid of falling into the large hole that
suddenly appeared in the ground. The dirt that had been there, was sitting in a pile
beside Lucius now. The two Death Eaters dumped the body into the hole. Evan cast
a handful of spells, 'Preserving Charms' he said, and together, he and Lucius spelled
the dirt back into the grave. When they were finished, it looked as it had before they
started. Nothing, not even a blade of grass, had changed.
"In a few years, when the Dark Lord returns, Vernon will have to look as if he has
been alive. That's why we preserved the body. We can fake his death later, when it is
safe for you to leave here."
"We aren't going? But-" Harry began, eyes wide as he looked between the two
adults.
"You and I will be staying here. Lucius and a friend of his will be helping us. Social

Services will have no choice but to relinquish guardianship to me. Everything will
work out for the best, my child, I promise you. I will keep you safe now." Evan held
out his arms, and Harry watched him warily for a moment, before throwing himself
forward into Rosier's embrace.
"What Potion are you using?" Harry asked, his face pressed to Evan's chest.
"Go look it up. Lazy." Evan chastised lightly. He was sure it wouldn't take Harry too
long to figure it out. After all, he did own a copy of 'Moste Potent Potions'. The
Polyjuice Potion was one of the author's favourites.
XXX
August 2nd 1988. Little Whinging.
Petunia arrived home half an hour before Miss Denning did. She looked around the
house with her eyes narrowed, looking for any evidence that Vernon had hurt the
freak while she was gone. Lord knows men never clean up their messes, and
Petunia wanted everything to be neat and tidy and perfect when Social Services
came to talk about Dudley.
Their lawyer was meant to be there, but he must have been held up in traffic.
Petunia didn't ring him, as that was Vernon's job and she trusted him to do it.
Evan appeared in the doorway of their bedroom. It wasn't somewhere he looked
forward to sleeping, but for now it would have to do. Petunia moved closer to him,
her bony arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled his head down for an
'Eskimo kiss'. Evan rubbed his nose once she pulled away, wiping his hand on his
trousers then in distaste.
"We need to clear something up, pet," he said in Vernon Dursley's voice. Petunia sat
on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside her invitingly. His face was
expressionless, but he sat stiffly, shifting away as Petunia moved closer. "The boy
will be staying here. Both of them. That woman from social services will not be taking
the boys away."
"But, but, we don't want Potter, remember?" She stuttered.
"Things change."
"What have they done to you?" She gasped, jumping away from him. Her hand was
pressed over her heart as she started sobbing. "His kind have done something to
you, haven't they? What have they done?" She looked like she wanted to hug him,

and Evan hoped she didn't, but she also looked like she was afraid to come near
him. Just in case whatever the Wizards had 'done' to him was contagious.
"Harry will be staying. He will be sleeping in his own bedroom: Dudley doesn't need
two. And you will not get him to do anything in this house that he doesn't want to do.
Do you understand me, dear?" Evan hissed, eyes narrowing.
Petunia was crying to hard to speak, but she managed to nod her head. Evan was
half way down the stairs before Petunia had composed herself. She ran after him,
"don't worry," she promised, "I'll get you help."
"Who will believe you, pet? Mrs. Figg, the crazy cat lady? Andy Abraham from
Winchley Drive, who thinks he can fly? Old Man Roberts, who's as crazy as Mrs.
Figg? No one will believe you. There is nothing you can do." He carried on down the
stairs, reaching the bottom just as the doorbell rang. "Potter will be staying."
"Where is your lawyer?" Amelia Denning asked as she entered the house.
"We have no need for him." 'Vernon' answered. Petunia gasped, her mouth opened
but no words came out. Dudley stood by her side, red faced from crying at finding
Harry in his 'second' bedroom. The fatter boy scowled as the redheaded woman
reached out to shake his hand. She held her hand out to Harry, who for once was
dressed decently (in clothes Draco had loaned him). Harry gripped her hand lightly
and shook once.
"Well then, we may as well get started."
The doorbell rang again. Harry opened it with a frown. He didn't recognize the man
at the door, but the way he reached out to shake Harry's hand, but instead kissed
the back of it, was very familiar. Lucius waited outside. "Amelia?" He called, and the
woman came out to greet him.
"Jason, what are you doing here?" She asked, frowning. He was supposed to be
working on a placement for the two boys for September. He wasn't supposed to be
at Number 4. As one of the solicitors for Social Services, Jason Rathbone had plenty
of work to do, but very little of it involved meeting the children he actually
represented.
"There's been a change of plans." Lucius' voice was his own when he spoke, and
Miss Denning gave a gasp of fright as a pointed stick was suddenly levelled in her
face. "Imperio." He handed over a folded up sheet of paper. He had about five. The
remaining four he handed to Evan. "Sign them," he instructed.

Amelia did as she was told, and then she was Obliviated. Evan signed his papers.
He dipped the pen he was given into a vial of his own blood, which he pulled out of
his pocket. 'Evan Rosier' glistened on the page, the sun brightening the red until it
sparkled. He blew on it to dry it, and handed the adoption papers over to Amelia
Denning.
"Thank you for your co-operation, miss. My family are very much excited about
taking care of young Harry."
"Don't worry about any follow-up meetings," Lucius told her, strengthening the
Imperius just in case. They walked into the house.
A car started up outside, and Miss. Denning drove away. The papers that handed
Harry over into Evan's guardianship were folded up on the passenger seat and the
first thing she was going to do when she got to work was hand them over to her
assistance to file.
When the door was closed, Lucius' Polyjuice wore off. Evan took a sip out of a
whiskey flask he had in his other pocket, and offered a tight smile to the blond.
"That went well?" Harry asked.
Lucius looked at Harry and smiled widely. "Very well, I believe."
The three Wizards turned to face Petunia and Dudley. The two Muggles were
watching them, opened mouthed, their backs pressed against the wall. Petunia was
blinking frantically, her mouth working silently. Dudley scowled, stepped in front of his
mother, and placed his hands on his hips. "Get out of our house, freaks!" He hissed
at Lucius and Harry. "Daddy, tell them!"
Evan tilted his head to one side. He looked between Harry and Dudley and smirked.
His hand flew out, and clipped the boy across the cheek, sending him sprawling
back into his mother.
Dudley whimpered. "Daddy?"
"VERNON!" Petunia screeched.
He ignored both of them. Evan turned to Harry instead, pulled the boy against his
side. Harry watched the other two quietly, as Evan spoke. "Things are going to
change." He promised them.
XXX

* * *
To anyway who didn't see that coming, you need to go and re-read the Prologue.
Thanks for reading. And yes, I know, Inkheart wasn't published until after Harry
graduates Hogwarts (but whatever).

Chapter 10
Hey all this update took a while and I'm sorry. Nothing else to say.
* * *
Words: 3,173
Chapter 10
September 1st 1988. Little Whinging Primary School.
Time could bring about the greatest of changes. With enough time, anything was
possible. People could fall in love in minutes and fall out of love in years. Time
brought opportunities, endless possibilities to do things and experience things and
learn things. For people with patience, time was their greatest ally. To those that
feared change, time could be their strongest enemy.
A lot of things could change with a little time.
Adam Grange watched the Dursley family with a frown. He stood by the school
gates, arms folded across his chest and he noted to himself, exactly how much had
changed since June. Petunia Dursley appeared skinnier than usual, if that were even
possible. Her son was pressed close to her side, and Mr Grange couldn't be sure,
but Dudley looked like he had lost a small bit of weight as well. Vernon Dursley was
as red-faced and wobbly as the maths teacher remembered him. But the one who
had changed the most was Harry Potter.
When Adam thought about Harry, he thought about Oliver Twist. They both had the
same waif like appearance, the both seemed poor and vulnerable and, he
suspected, abused. The trouble with Social Services last month confirmed all of his
suspicions, but then they had just left Harry with that horrible family anyway. But the
threat of having both boys forcefully taken away from them must have done some
good. Because Harry looked nothing like Adam remembered.
This boy was practically glowing. His ugly, broken glasses were missing, and in their
place were a nice-looking rectangular pair. They were clean, and the bridge of them
wasn't held together by tape. His clothes actually fit him, and they looked tailored.
Dudley's uniform was the same from the year before, and it was too short for his
arms and legs and looked about ready to burst at the seams. Petunia was obviously
flustered by this fact because she kept tugging on the boy's shirt, pulling it down on

his wrists and then scowling when it wouldn't stretch to fit him.
Harry's shoes were shinny and new, polished black leather loafers, with laces. The
child was grinning, wider than Adam could ever remember seeing him smile, and
occasionally he would look up at his uncle and his smile would stretch that much
wider. Vernon had a hand on Harry's shoulder, his mouth set into a sneer, but he
offered Harry a smile in return for every smile Harry sent his way. Mr. Grange
couldn't honestly believe what he was seeing. It was so different, so surreal.
That was the same man, who rang him up two years previously and shouted abuse
down the phone at him for sending Harry a birthday card. A card, of all things. It
wasn't like he had sent the child anything extravagant! It was a card!
And now, there Vernon was, smiling at the boy, as if they actually liked each other.
Adam snickered to himself as he moved away from the gate. Harry waved in his
direction as they passed him. Adam waved back. He ushered the rest of the
students through the school gates, and waited for the parents to walk back out, so
that he could lock up and head back inside. He watched mothers and fathers say
goodbye to their kids, and then he watched as Vernon Dursley ignored Dudley
completely but pulled Harry 'freak' Potter into a hug. He snorted as he watched
them. Strange things could happen with a little time, he supposed.
XXX
December 24th 1988. Malfoy Manor.
The house elves had turned off the lights some time ago. It was late, very late. In
fact, it was so late that if the boys didn't go to sleep soon, Santa Claus might just
pass them over. Harry had his eyes screwed tightly closed, trying to force himself to
drift asleep. Draco, on the other hand, wasn't really that worried. No one would dare
ignore a Malfoy. Certainly not St. Nicholas. Especially not on Christmas Eve.
Pureblood Wizards didn't celebrate Christmas, but rather Yule. However, the
tradition of giving gifts started out Pagan, before the church converted it to suit their
needs. The Wizards celebrated their winter solstice and Yule, and they threw balls
and parties and made offerings to any respective gods or goddesses. Though no
self-respecting child, Pureblood or otherwise, was going to argue against receiving
heaps of presents for doing absolutely nothing to earn them. So while the traditional
families in the Wizarding World didn't celebrate Christmas, gifts continued to be
handed out on Christmas Eve, whether by parents or Santa the children didn't
particularly care.

"I'm glad you're here, Harry." Draco whispered.

Harry made a humming noise. "I only came cause Evan said Professor Snape
wouldn't be here. He's at a Potions Conference in the Americas right?"
"Yeah." Draco sat up, eyes narrowed. "Don't you like Severus? He's my godfather,
you know."
"I don't know him. But Evan doesn't trust him. He's been staying with you recently,
hasn't he?"
"Yeah. He's teaching me to make some Potions. The only one I've really mastered is
the Polyjuice Potion." Harry had to suppress a grin at that. "But there are other
interesting ones he said he'd teach me too!"
Harry and Evan had been staying at Malfoy Manor since the 21st December. They
had finally decided it was time to tell Draco the truth. It was because of Draco's
'desire to learn' that Evan was being kept in constant supply of the Polyjuice Potion.
He had placed it in a whiskey flask and cast an Everlast charm on it. This way, he
could store the rest of the vials Draco and Snape made (because if Voldemort didn't
rise for five years, Snape was bound to grow suspicious of Draco's need to learn the
Polyjuice again and again). Contrary to the name of the charm, it only duplicated
something enough to last for six months. Every six months, Evan would have to refill
the flask.
Draco had taken the truth well enough. He had only been told about Evan Rosier
and Harry Potter. Neither had mentioned anything about Vernon's death or what the
potion was being used for. Lucius had refrained from mentioning his involvement as
well. Draco had frowned at Harry for a moment, called him 'Caen' and then
remembered himself.
"Harry Potter, is it? Well. I suppose you'd be a decent friend then, being a half-blood
at least. As long as you're not going to end up in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff when we go
to Hogwarts, then I suppose I'll forgive you." He had held his hand out, and Harry
had shaken it. A genuine smile had settled on Draco's face.
Harry looked over at him in the bed. They were sleeping in Draco's room for the
night. Harry had been given his own room, but it was actually closer to Lucius' room
than it was to the Malfoy heir's. Draco hadn't trusted Harry to wait for him in the
morning before opening the presents, so he had demanded that Harry share his bed
for the night, so he could keep an eye on him. The blond's bed was large enough for
more than the both of them, so none of the adults had bothered to complain. Draco,
as usual, was given what he asked for.

"Hey Harry?"
"Yeah?" The brunette asked.
"Good night."
Harry waited until Draco had rolled over, before rolling his eyes at the blond's back.
"Yeah, good night."
XXX
February 14th 1989. Diagon Alley.
Evan scowled at the people in front of him. Despite the fact that he was obviously
walking there, those people insisted on moving towards him, bumping into him,
brushing against him. One even knocked Harry over. All of them, rushing about
carrying pink and red heart shaped packages, scrambling all over one another, it
was disgusting.
Harry's school was closed for the week and he hadn't wanted to leave the boy at
Number 4 with just Petunia and Dudley around. Lucius and his family were in France
for the month. Draco had brought his tutor with him, so that wasn't a problem, but it
meant Evan couldn't have them mind Harry either. He needed to speak to some of
his old associates, test the waters, make a few enquiries and he wasn't certain it was
safe for Harry to be there at the same time.
He and Lucius had agreed that it was best to hide his involvement with the child until
the Dark Lord actually returned. The Dark Lord was volatile, and sometimes
unstable, and there was no telling what he would think of Evan and Lucius siding
with Harry in his absence. It would be better to explain things to the Dark Lord,
before introducing Harry to the other Death Eaters.
But there was nowhere to leave Harry. So Harry had to come with him.
Tennyson Alfred, Evan's alias while under several glamour spells, wondered through
Diagon Alley. Harry was nearing his ninth birthday and Evan had deemed it safe
enough to apply a few simple glamour charms to the child as well. They looked like
father and son, and Harry kept his mouth shut as he trailed after Rosier towards
Knockturn Alley.
"Remember, do not touch anything." The elder Wizard warned.

Harry nodded his head. His glamoured brown eyes widened as Evan ushered him
into Borgin & Burkes. His eyes fixed on a Hand of Glory, and Harry moved towards
it slowly, though he kept his hand by his side because Evan had told him not to touch
anything. He didn't speak, or ask any questions, but that in itself was enough for Mr.
Borgin to grow suspicious of him.
"Who's this?" He snarled, nodding at Harry. His right hand rested on his left arm, and
when Harry turned his head to look at him, the fingers flexed, gripping tightly over
the area, hiding his Dark Mark.
A wand pressed against his Adams apple. Evan narrowed his eyes. "My son," he
said.
"I... see," the other man finally said. "Will he be, uh, joining our cause?"
"In time," Evan allowed. "But speaking of, you wouldn't happen to have heard
anything would you?"
Harry tuned them out. Subtle or not subtle, he had not interest in their conversation.
If it were important, Evan would have included him. And if not, Evan would tell him
about it later anyway. The fingers of the Hand of Glory flexed as well, and Harry was
tempted to reach out and grab it, but he didn't. Instead he watched as the Hand
flipped over, and began to crawl, dragging itself forward by its fingers, across the
shelf. He let out a gasp as it jumped, launching towards Harry's throat.
A jet of red light hit the Hand before it could catch Harry, and the Hand fell with a
thump to the floor. Harry turned to see who had rescued him and frowned. A man in
Red Auror robes, flanked by a tall black man in matching robes and a young woman
dressed in blue, stared back at him, looking equally pensive.
"What are you doing here, child? You should be more careful." The black Auror said.
"My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt." He rested a hand on Harry's shoulder, pulling
him away from the shelf that had displayed the Hand of Glory, as well as a few other
interesting looking artefacts.
"Where are your parents?" Nymphandora Tonks asked.
Harry looked around, but Evan was gone. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the green
and brown butterfly that was hovering around the single bare light bulb, before his
expression blanked out.
"Dead." He said stiffly. "And yours?"

"Uh," the woman stuttered, "they're good thanks."

"What are you doing here?" The man who had spelled the Hand spoke. He was
shorter than the other man, but he had a lot more facial hair.1
"Rufus!" Kingsley chided.
"I'm lost. Obviously." Harry adopted the tone Draco generally used when he was
annoyed about something, and raised his chin up. He glanced at them out of the
corner of his eyes, looking, he hoped, aloof and calm. "I'm sure someone will come
looking for me eventually."
"Well, until then, why don't you come with us?" Tonks asked. She looked very young,
barely more than a teenager. She's either skipped her NEWTs or she'd graduated
early, but Harry didn't really care either way. All he cared about was making sure he
didn't get taken away from Evan.
"If you could just bring me back to Gringotts, I would appreciate it. My father is good
friends with the Goblins. They shan't mind watching me until father comes back."
Harry made a step towards the shop entrance. "Well?"
"I suppose," Kingsley started, "that wouldn't hurt anyone."
"How'd you find this place anyway?" Rufus Scrimgeour snarled. "Is your father a
Dark Wizard, boy?" He pointed a finger at Mr. Borgin, eyes narrowed. "Don't think
you're getting away with anything, scum. We've received a complaint about you, and
we will be back to sort things out. Don't go anywhere."
Scrimgeour grabbed Harry's arm and tugged him, dragging the boy out of the shop.
The butterfly followed, flying as fast as he could to make it through the door before it
closed after the Witch. Evan landed in Harry's hair, burrowing down, and hiding
himself beneath the thick, black strands.
The Aurors were reluctant to leave Harry alone at the bank, but they did after a brief
hushed debate between themselves. Rufus insisted on waiting by the doors, though,
until a Goblin came over and beckoned Harry into another room. Evan was waiting
there already, though Harry hadn't noticed him leave his hair.
The Goblin cleared his throat. "My, my, my," he said with a leer, "what a Darkness
you have." He sat behind his desk, his teeth bared in a hungry grin and his black
eyes were fixed on Harry's hidden scar.
"All the better to corrupt you with," Evan drawled, his hand moving to rest on Harry's

lower back. "Caen and I thank you for your assistance. May your family always
prosper."
"And may your vaults be always filled with gold." The Goblin said in reply,
emphasising the plural. The nameplate on his desk said 'Griphook'.
Harry stopped in his tracks, and turned around to face the Goblin. "Gold?" He
questioned softly. He knew Evan had a vault, which had been frozen by the Ministry,
but that Tennyson Alfred also had a vault. He knew Lucius had several vaults,
because Lucius had bought him many things with his gold, but Harry had never
considered the possibility that he could have money.
"Did you really think your parents left you nothing?" Griphook asked, lacing his
fingers beneath his chin. This grin was just as shark-like as the last. "My, my, my, you
are a very rich little boy, Harry Potter."
"How did you know who I was?" Harry asked softly.
"Oh we Goblins have our ways and our means, just like you Wizards do." His eyes
were still fixed on Harry's scar. "Do you have any idea? Well, he must." Griphook
tipped his head at Evan. "The Dark Lord's Horcrux. You are the second to step into
our grasp. It is such a pity we cannot keep you in one of our vaults, like the other.
We could keep you safe that way."
"Why do you care about his safety? I thought Goblins were neutral. They refused to
join Lord Voldemort last time." Rosier sneered.
"But last time," Griphook said, without denying any of Evan's accusations, "he didn't
have the Boy-Who-Lived on his side. We Goblins are warriors, through and through.
We know better than to take sides when both suffer from uncertainty. But now," his
eyes raked over Harry, before landing back on the scar, "he cannot lose."
Harry knew the 'he' referred to the Dark Lord.
The idea of being a pawn in the midst of a war between Voldemort and Dumbledore
didn't appeal to him in the least. He wrinkled his nose at the thought. He would serve
Voldemort, because it would make Evan happy. But he would not take sides until he
knew more. He would be loyal to the Dark Lord and he would not betray him, but
Harry would not acknowledge the Wizard as his Lord until Harry knew enough about
him. Harry would wait until the Dark Lord returned. He would wait and see what the
man was like, learn and study the other Wizard, and then he would pick a side.
Until then, he would be no ones pawn.

Evan seemed to know what he was thinking, because he dragged Harry from the
room before Griphook could say anymore. "Be careful with your thoughts,
Caterpillar." Evan warned. "There are Witches and Wizards who could pluck that
thought right out of your head, just by looking you in the eye. You are entitled to your
opinion, and I am sure the Dark Lord will value your loyalty and support more if it is
deserved rather than forced."
"Would you force me?" Harry whispered.
"No. But He might. And so might many others. Perhaps you should not entertain
thoughts of that nature. Just for the time being."
"I will not change my opinion, Evan. I refuse to jump into this. I need to consider the
pros and the cons, and the possible consequences. What if I do decided to become
a Death Eater, and we train me to be his Heir, but he doesn't want an heir? Or what
if he is angry with me for what happened that night and decided out right to kill me? I
won't be able to protect myself from a Dark Lord, Evan. Regardless of how much
you teach me, or that I have his soul inside of me, I still have so much less
experience and little chance of winning against him. If I alienate the people on the
other side of the war now, I may not be able to seek protection from them if I need
it."2
"You would betray us?" Evan wouldn't look at Harry when he spoke.
"Never. Not you. And I wouldn't know anything about Lord Voldemort to tell them,
and if I did, I wouldn't tell them. I agree with your principles, not theirs. But if he
wants to kill me, I'm not going to just stand there and accept it. I won't betray him,
but that won't stop me from hiding from him either."
"Well, you won't be a Gryffindor then. They seem to act first, think later for
everything. I am... pleased that you are putting this level of thought into your
decisions." Evan reached over and gave Harry a quick hug. "It would be best to
protect thoughts of that nature, if you cannot make yourself stop thinking them."
Evan decided.
He changed directions, steering Harry towards Flourish & Blotts. "What do you
know of Occlumency? I believe it is about time you learnt."
XXX
1 " Rufus Scrimgeour: became Minister of Magic in HBP. Before that he was a
regular Auror, and then he made Head of the Auror Division. At the moment, he's still
just a regular Auror. Tonks is a trainee, that's why her robes are a different colour.

She's only about 16 or 17 at this point.

2 " Harry is a Ravenclaw in this world, remember. He is logical, and rational, and
seeks to learn everything there is to learn about something before he makes a
decision on that matter. For instance, CoS. The Ravenclaws wanted to study Harry
first before they would believe he was the Heir of Slytherin. Harry isn't likely to just
join Voldemort because Evan tells him to. Harry had legitimate fears and concerns
about his welcome from Voldemort (these will be address in more detail later in the
story), and he isn't stupid enough to invest his time and life into something that is just
going to turn around and bite him in the arse.
If the Dark Lord does want to kill him, Dumbledore is the sort of person who would
protect him (see Draco in HBP). Harry knows that alienating potential allies is stupid.
He might not agree with Dumbledore's ideas or condone the man's choices (being
left with the Muggles) but Harry had read enough to know that Dumbledore is the
only Wizard Voldemort fears. Who better to seek protection from?
But no, Harry will NOT be a Light Wizard. He's just keeping his options open at the
moment.
* * *
Thanks for reading. Please leave a review.

Chapter 11
Just a filler chapter, to tie up a few loose ends about the last chapter and the
Dursleys' lives. Just to say, read the A/N at the bottom.
Also, I'm going away for two weeks, so there won't be any updates during that time,
sorry. But I'll bring a notebook with me and make some chapter outlines, etc, and
hopefully by the time I come back I can get started on New Divide, and Black
Complication. And Butterfly too, of course!
* * *
Words: 3,067
Chapter 11
July 28th 1990. Malfoy Manor.
Draco's tutor was a bad-tempered man, with thick brown hair and a constant flush to
his cheeks. Mr. Jenus Harper seemed to be of the mindset that he was in charge,
and anything less than full attention and participation could be punished by smacking
Draco across the hand with his wand. Of course the first time he had tried that,
Draco had complained to his father. Lucius agreed that Draco should take his
studies seriously, but a quite threatening conversation later deterred Harper from
using corporal punishment on the Malfoy heir in future.
Just because Harper didn't hit Draco any more, didn't mean he allowed the boy to
slack off either.
A book sailed through the air. The blond child barely ducked it, his arms flying up to
protect his face even as he lowered his head to tuck against his chest. Harry
watched with wide eyes.
"That was wrong! Wrong. The correct pronunciation is Pro-tay-go. Say it again! What
if that had been a spell? What if it had killed you because you are foolish and unable
to do as you are instructed? Again, Malfoy." He pointed his wand forward, and the
book flew back at him. He threw the book at Draco's head again.
The blond raised his father's wand and screamed, "Protego", as the book sailed
towards his face again. A faint shimmer of light appeared in front of Draco, but the
spell wasn't strong enough and the shield didn't hold. Draco gave a muffled grunt as
the book struck his cheek. He clutched at his face with trembling hands and snarled

towards his tutor. "I thought we were meant to be learning first year spells?"
"Poor, poor boy," Harper soothed. With a wave of his wand, the red mark on Draco's
cheek vanished. "No ambition whatsoever, have you?" His head snapped around
suddenly, eyes narrowing on Harry's form. Harry, who had already managed to
produce a suitably strong shield, was sitting at Draco's desk writing an essay on the
inner hierarchy of Pureblood families. "How far have you gotten, Alfred?" Another
wave of his wand summoned the parchment over to him. Harry had been halfway
through a sentence, but the tutor just hummed and ignored the long black smudge
that ran down the length of the page from the aborted word.
He began reading to himself, mumbling every now and then. "Yes, well, it's all very
good, but I don't believe you truly understand a word of it. It all looks like it was
copied straight out of a text book." He rolled up the parchment and levelled his wand
at Harry's face. "For every wrong answer, I'm going to hex you. But don't worry so
much, Mr. Alfred, you're very good with the shielding charm. Now, who is the Head
of the Family?"
Harry swallowed, eyes wide and focused on the wand pointed at his nose. He'd
been to a handful of Draco's lessons before, but mostly Evan and Lucius tutored him
themselves when they had free time. But since there was just over a year left before
Harry would be leaving for Hogwarts, Lucius had managed to convince Evan that it
would be for the best if Harry had some experience of a real tutor. Apparently, they
were all as psychotic as Mr. Harper!
"The Head of the Family is the eldest son living. For example, Draco's grandfather
died in 1984 of Dragonpox. With his death, Lucius became the Head of the Malfoy
line. Had Lucius had an older brother, his brother would have become Head, not
Lucius."
Janus narrowed his eyes. "The Heir?"
"The eldest son of the Head of the Family. In the case of my scenario, Draco would
be the Heir to the Malfoy Family."
"If, say," here, Harper gave a pause and his eyes flicked over to the door nervously,
as if he were afraid Lucius was eavesdropping, "Draco was an Orphan, who would
be the Head of the Family?"
"His godfather, until Draco came into his magical maturity at 17. At 17, Professor
Snape, as Draco's godfather, would still be entitled to manage the Malfoy funds but
Draco would take over the day-to-day running of the household. At the age of 21,
Draco would bare the full responsibility of the Malfoy finances, and Professor Snape

would have no more legal obligation to involve himself with the Malfoy line."
"And if Draco's godfather was deceased?"
"His godmother would fulfil the same role. I don't actually know who his godmother
is, but a godparent is carefully chosen at birth. Usually they are close friends of the
family, or sometimes the parents of a potential spouse for the child. If the parent
dies, the godparent will usually blood adopt the child as their own. This gives the
child more security, allowing it a permanent place within the godparent's family, and
it also gives the godparents legal rights over the child after the age of 21. Though it
doesn't affect the running of the child's familial line or vaults."
"Not a bad answer, Alfred. Maybe you do know more than I give you credit for."
Harper rubbed his chin lightly, "I dare say, we'll make a Ravenclaw of you yet, boy.
Next question, who is your godfather? All of your analogies are about Malfoy's
family."
Harry honestly didn't know if he had godparents. When he was out in public with
Evan, (and not Vernon), and someone was foolish enough to speak to them, Evan
always introduced himself as Harry's godfather. Harry wasn't shy about telling people
his parents were dead: he rather enjoyed the way their faces paled at the revelation.
It would teach them not to pry into other peoples' business, hopefully. Harry had
Evan, and he had Lucius, and Draco, who else did he really need?
He let out a small cry of pain. A stinging hex had hit him firmly on the jaw. "Let's try
again, who is your godfather? With every wrong answer I hex you." Mr. Harper
warned lightly, twirling his wand between his fingers.
Harry didn't know the answer, but he still allowed his lips to pull up into a smirk.
When the wand aimed at him again, he was ready. "Protego," he shouted. A shield
sprang up around him, reflected in the hex back at Janus, who clapped wildly after
he reflected the spell again.
"Bravo." The man praised, completely forgetting about his pop-quiz. "That was an
impressive display Mr. Alfred. You were very fast, very clear pronunciation, good
wand work. I dare say I'm... pleased with you. Now get out of here. Both of you. Our
lessons are over for the day. Malfoy!" He shouted suddenly, stopping the boys in the
threshold of the room. "Pay attention to him. You might learn something."
The boys left. Draco had a rather unpleasant scowl on his face, and his nose was
upturned in indignation. "I do not like him, not one bit!"
"Nor do I," Harry muttered grumpily. Harper hadn't even bothered to heal the mark

on his jaw. That stinging hex had hurt.

"Yes, well, he likes you a fair bit more than he likes me. It isn't fair. He's my tutor. He
should like me more!" Draco whinged, crossing his arms over his chest, and glaring
petulantly back in the direction they had come.
"That's probably why, you know, Draco. He gets paid to teach you, and 'motivate'
you and be mean. He's just being mean to me for fun, in his free time. But because
he is getting money to be mean to you, he's meaner more often."
"Your vocabulary is atrocious, Potter." The blond sneered, ignoring as Harry
scowled.
XXX
November 23rd 1990. Little Whinging.
Vernon Dursley smirked to himself as he watched his beloved wife rush around their
kitchen. Harry sat at the dining table beside him, reading one of his schoolbooks,
and taking notes. Evan rolled his eyes at the child's studious behaviour. It was
nothing to discourage, after all. But there were times when the boy really should just
relax and enjoy his time outside of learning. And this was one of those times. Evan
dearly enjoyed every opportunity afforded to him to torment the remaining Dursleys.
Harry had refused to allow Evan to actually torture them. The boy had claimed it
made them no better than Vernon had been, that it could actually make them worse
than Vernon because they should know better. And it wasn't Harry's argument that
stilled Evan's wand, but rather the pleading look on his face and the way those green
eyes watered.
"Petunia, dear, hurry on." Vernon snapped. "Harry's going to be late for school if you
keep on as you are. Honestly woman, anyone would think there was something the
matter with you, the way your hobbling around the place like an invalid. Are you
unhappy, Pet? Would you rather be someplace else?" Evan didn't wait for an
answer. He scowled at his plate as she scrapped some scrambled eggs onto it off of
the pan. They were burnt on the bottom, but Evan could probably eat around it if he
wanted to.
He didn't want to. He wanted to cause a fuss, just like Vernon and Petunia had done
every morning they found fault with Harry's cooking. Harry's eggs had never been
burnt, not since he passed the age of six and could actually see over the stove.
Harry's eggs had been delicious, and they didn't have bits of shell in them. Evan
picked out a piece of the shell and flicked it in Dudley's direction with a sneer. How

dare they find fault with Harry, when their efforts were so much worse?
"What is this?"
"E-eggs, dear?" Petunia stuttered. She put the pan down and started wringing her
hands together nervously.
"They're burnt." He said, his voice low and cold.
"I know. But they aren't that badly burnt and Dudley needed me for something. I was
only gone for a moment, and anyway the boy was here the entire time and didn't turn
them off or-" A hand suddenly flew towards her. The impact of it against her jaw
stopped her mid-sentence, and she crumpled to the floor as pain flooded through
her. She clutched her face, shoulders heaving as she began to sob, hunched over
on herself.
Petunia hadn't seemed to learn in the past two years, that the Vernon she knew and
loved was never coming back. The woman was obtuse and stubborn but she made
life interesting for Evan. There were months at a time when she cowed before him
and treated Harry kindly out of fear of her 'husband'. And then there were moments
like this one, where she suddenly reverted back to her old self. Forgetting about the
last years of her life and imagining that when she insulted Harry, Vernon would agree
with her. It was easy for Evan to remind her of course. He wasn't a nice man. Harry
was against torturing them, and against hurting Dudley because he was the same
age as Harry and technically it hadn't even been the boy's fault his parents
brainwashed him. But Evan had no scruples against striking out at a woman who
knowingly tormented and abused her sister's child. A Wizard child.
Evan's child.
Dudley sat stiffly in his chair, hands shaking in his lap. He refused to face his mother.
He kept his face lowered to hide the tears that were forming, because he understood
that his dad was different, and this version of his father wouldn't hesitate to belittle
him for crying.
Evan sought pleasure in whatever he could while at the Dursleys' house.
"Now, get off of the floor, Pet, and make some more eggs. Hurry now. You wouldn't
want my boys to be late to school, would you? And don't you have work in an hour?"
When Vernon had been fired from his job at Grunnings, it had had the cataclysmic
affect of Vernon attempting to rape Harry, and of Evan strangling Vernon as Harry
watched. Since it was actually Evan's phone call to Director Mason that had led to

Vernon's sacking, Evan didn't see why it was necessary to come crawling back
looking for a job he didn't want. He had money. And Harry had money. Evan's name
was on Harry's adoption certificate, so he was legally Harry's Muggle guardian now.
He was obligated to pay for anything Harry needed, and he was happy to. But why
should he pay for Petunia or Dudley, when both of them had been content for years
to let Harry go without?
If they wanted to eat, let her buy the food.
If Dudley wanted new clothes, Petunia was welcome to earn the money for a
shopping trip. She had never worked before Vernon's death, but Rosier thought it
was about time she got a job.
He had found her the most humiliating one he could possibly think of. She was
waitressing in a small caf in the centre of Little Whinging. All day, while at work, she
was subject to her neighbours' stares and she could overhear them whispering
about her and see them pointing at her and laughing. And every evening she came
home, flushed and red eyed with half-moon marks on her palms from her desperate
attempts to calm herself down.
Evan took great amusement in coming to the caf and making her serve him. And in
returning food that he wasn't satisfied with and ordering again. The whispers always
increased in fervour when he brought 'the freak' with him.
"Well? I'm waiting for my eggs! You and Dudley can have the burnt ones." Dudley
didn't dare to complain. The way Evan was drumming his fingers on the table made
Dudley swallow convulsively and shrink away from the same hand that had just
struck his mother. Petunia scrambled to her feet and rushed to the fridge. She
grabbed three eggs and set to work silently. Harry looked up, his forehead creasing
as he watched his aunt's hands shake as she cooked.
Evan's hand closed around one of Harry's hands. Evan's knuckles were red, and
Harry knew why. He hadn't been looking, but he had heard the crunching sound as
the knuckles met with Petunia's jaw. The woman would be finding it painful to talk for
a few days, at least. Harry pitied her. But he hated her more than he could ever
imagine loving her, so he pushed away the stirrings of guilt within him. He hadn't hit
her. And it wasn't like she didn't deserve it anyway. Harry, himself, had received
much worse for much smaller transgressions.
He pulled his hands out from under Evan's and laid it on top. He squeezed the hand
within his own tightly, holding on for a moment before letting go and losing himself in
his book. When his eggs were served, Harry wasn't hungry enough to eat them.

XXX
July 18th 1991. Little Whinging.1
Harry was asleep when the post came. He had never much liked the post, because
nothing ever came for him. The only thing he had ever received through the front
door of Number 4 was a birthday card, which soon ended up in the fire thanks to
Vernon. Evan though he was living with Evan now, Harry still received no post. If
someone wanted to contact him, they sent an owl. There were no Muggles that
Harry wished to speak with anyway.
The children from school sometimes came to talk to Dudley, or mailed him birthday
invitations. But Harry had made it clear that he wouldn't accept the invitations even if
he received them. Evan had to let Dudley go. It would be suspicious to do otherwise.
Just because the man had suddenly had a change of heart regarding his nephew
didn't mean he was likely to lose all affection for his only son and forbid him to
socialize. It would have been more fun to lock Dudley in the cupboard under the
stairs and refuse to let him have friends, but it wasn't practical. And Dudley didn't fit
in the cupboard anyway.
After Vernon's death, Evan made it clear to Dudley that no one was to terrorize Harry
in school anymore. And though some of the children had tried to be Harry's friends
when Dudley's Gang had back off, Harry wasn't interested. Those children had
helped make his childhood hell. They were weak and spineless and refused to stand
up for him or themselves against a handful of other children. It was sickening to even
think about wanting to be friends with people like that. The very idea of allowing
fickle, traitorous children into his life made him cringe. He had Draco. He didn't need
any of those filthy Muggles!
Harry could hear the postman shoving the letters through his door. Dudley was
probably still in bed, but he could hear Petunia moving around downstairs. She
would get the letters, Harry knew. Beside him, Evan stretched his arms above his
head with a yawn. He really didn't like sharing a bed with Petunia, and he refused to
go back to sleeping in the basement now that he had his run of the house. Harry was
small enough still that sharing a bed wasn't difficult at all. It was actually rather
comfortable to curl up next to Evan, or hug the man to him after a nightmare, or revel
in the familiar warmth beside him.
It would be hell though, at Hogwarts, trying to get used to sleeping alone again after
more than two years.
A scream rang through the house. Dudley was awake instantly, and Harry giggled as

he heard the boy roll out of the bed with a thump. Evan didn't move an inch. His arm
came down to rest around Harry's shoulders and he grinned. "It came early," Evan
commented softly, when the Muggle finally stopped screaming.
"What came early?" Harry questioned, sitting up in the bed. Something had come in
the post for him?
"Your Hogwarts letter, Caen." The Death Eater smiled widely to himself. He watched
Harry tare from the room in his pyjamas, and he continued to lie on the bed, arms
folded beneath his head as Harry excited mutterings drifted back up the stairs to
him. Harry would be off to Hogwarts soon.
Soon. It wouldn't be much longer. But soon, the Dark Lord would return.
XXX
1 " Harry received numerous letters for days and days after his first arrived in the
post. When Hagrid came to him with a letter that was the night of Harry's 11th
birthday. But since he had been receiving letters before then, I'm going with the
assumption that Hogwarts sends out the letters a few weeks before the child is old
enough to attend.
* * *
Lucius isn't a paedophile.
Harry is a Horcrux. He is a very Dark piece of magic, and Dumbledore's theory
seems to be that Dark magic is addictive. That is what happened to Grindelwald, and
to Voldemort. They used Dark magic and then had to keep using, like heroin. They
more they used, the more they wanted. Lucius and Evan are Dark Wizards, they
may not be as Dark as Voldemort, but they still crave Dark magic over Light magic.
Evan, at first, was attracted to Harry because of the Horcrux. The feel of it, the aura
Harry had, called Evan and intrigued him. The same thing is happening with Lucius.
He finds Harry as a person fascinating, and in time will grow to love Harry for
himself. But at the moment, his attraction is down to the Horcrux. He isn't lusting
after a child: he wants the magic Harry possesses. As such, when Harry grows up,
Lucius' attraction towards him will grow stronger. If he were a paedophile, Lucius
would have lost interest by the time Harry reached puberty.
Only two people have said anything, (BOOMrobotdog I don't really count you... so
only one person has said anything), but I thought I'd clear it up anyway.

* * *
Thanks for reading.

Chapter 12
We have officially sent out all invitations to the First Years to Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry. On behalf of the staff I welcome you to our place of
learning, and must remind you once again that the Forbidden Forest is simply that,
forbidden! And also, that this is AU and Voldemort does not return until during Fourth
Year.
On a personal note... This update was long overdue. See my FFnet profile for details
(which are scarce there too). Also New Divide is in the process of being completely
chapter-by-chapter planned out between myself and a friend (because I felt I needed
some serious help), but I have decided I won't post it until after it has been
completely pre-written. On the plus side though, I don't think it will be very long, so
you'll only have to wait for me to write about 10-14 chapters! That should only take
me............................. two years? Joking!
* * *
Words: 4,102
Chapter 12
1 August 19th 1991. The Leaky Cauldron.
The Leaky Cauldron was packed to the rafters. Evan had warned him that the Alley
would be busy, but Harry had never imagined that this many people could ever fit in
one place. Behind him, Vernon Dursley stumbled out of the fireplace. He coughed
and sputtered, and Harry could hear him muttering about 'freaks' and the like. He
had to fight to hide his smile, because Professor Snape had suddenly whirled around
and fixed Harry and his uncle each with equally vicious glares.
"Our kind do not appreciate being called freaks, Muggle. You would do well to
remember that when among us." Snape's voice was soft and low, but Harry could
hear the anger that the man had carefully hidden. White knuckled, fingers clenched
around his wand, Snape led the way through the packed Pub, not bothering to check
if the other two were able to keep up.
Snape had appeared at Number 4 four days after Evan had sent a reply accepting
Harry's place at Hogwarts. Because Harry was supposed to have been raised as a
Muggle, Snape was expected to explain everything necessary to him. The dour man
would have preferred to have swapped places with Minerva, but she had been
adamant that Severus be the one to visit Lily's son. Snape had returned that morning

and informed them that their fireplace had been temporarily linked up to the Floo
network before shoving Harry through it.
"Horrible man," Harry whispered to Evan. The elder man grabbed Harry by the arm
and dragged him through the crowd, unceremoniously pushing and shouldering the
other people out of his way. Harry didn't have a wand, (his Yew training wand was
safely hidden at Number 4), and Evan couldn't very well use his while Polyjuiced as
a Muggle, and neither of them would put it passed Snape to enter Diagon Alley
without them.
They were almost to the door that led to the Alley when a man reached over and
grabbed onto Harry's shoulder. The boy stopped moving, and Evan had no choice
but to stop with him. "Harry Potter, bless my soul!"
The man was tall, with dark hair and eyes and dressed in long purple robes. He
reached out to take Harry's hand, pumping it enthusiastically with a wide smile on his
face. "I'm so very pleased to meet you, Harry. This will be your first year, won't it? I'm
so glad you're coming this year, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to meet you.
You see, I'm going on sabbatical next year. I'm heading off to Albania to study
Vampires! I was supposed to go the year before last, but I had a problem with my
funds.2 And last year a cousin of mine died and it wouldn't of been proper to leave
the country so soon after, but I'll definitely go this year. It's so good to finally meet
you!"
Harry watched with wide eyes. Evan was smirking softly behind him, and Harry could
almost feel the other Wizard's amusement at the situation. Unsure of what to say in
response, Harry smiled and merely said, "hello."
"Bless me!" The man in purple said, "Harry Potter spoke to me!"
"That is enough Quirinus!" Snape's voice said. Harry whirled around, and sure
enough there the man was, striding back towards them, looking like a giant angry
bat. His robes snapped around his feet as he moved, and his hand was still clenched
around his wand. "The boy will have a big enough head without you adding to it.
Show some decorum, for Merlin's sake." He gave the man a glare before turning to
face Harry. "This is Professor Quirrell. He will be teaching you Defence Against the
Dark Arts," he turned away from them, heading back towards the door, still talking,
"assuming he can pry his head out of your arse long enough, Potter. This way,
hurry."
Evan's hand was on his shoulder now, steering him away from the still excited
Professor, and successfully avoiding encounters with the numerous other Witches

and Wizards climbing over one another to shake hands with the Boy-Who-Lived.
"Well that was weird," Harry said once Snape had let them into the Alley.
Snape had been a little disappointed that Harry hadn't looked more excited as the
bricks moved away from themselves, creating a doorway, but then again Snape
didn't know that Harry had been here before. The Potions Professor was happy to
show off his bad mood by snarling in the direction of a handful of red headed
children who happened to bump into him on the street. "Hurry, Potter. I haven't all
day!"
They followed Snape to the bookstore. Flourish & Blotts was one of Harry's
favourite shops in Diagon Alley. There were so many books there, available to him,
practically begging him to buy them all. The Goblin's had happily provided him with a
second key to his vault in exchange for a vial of his blood. They said it was for proof
that he was who he said it was, but Evan had muttered something derogatory about
the Goblin's and some word Harry didn't know the meaning of, and the boy had
decided that many donating blood hadn't of been such a good idea.
"Why aren't we going to Gringotts?" Harry whispered, leaning closer to Evan.
Snape turned towards them and noticed them both staring at the imposing white
marble building that was the Wizarding bank. "I took the liberty of collecting some
funds from the bank already. Hogwarts is accustomed to paying for those who
cannot afford to pay for themselves." Coming from anyone else, the statement would
have seemed generous and kind. But the way Snape spat the words out made Harry
cringe away from him, and left him feeling worthless and poor. He hadn't felt that
way in some time, not since before he had found Evan.
"But I have money," he whispered, his bottom lip trembling.
"Your vault key was left in the possession of Headmaster Dumbledore for safe
keeping. When he attempted to hand the key to me, for the purpose of this visit, but
the key kept disappearing from my pocket. The Goblins have since informed us that
the Headmaster is no longer entitled to have access to your funds or your key. As
such, Hogwarts will pay for you, and you will pay Hogwarts back."
"Why would you have access to his money?" Evan asked. Vernon's fat face was
scrunched up in anger; the thought that anyone would dare take what rightfully
belonged to Harry left a sick feeling in his stomach.
"For the purposes of procuring the necessary tuition and boarding costs that accrue
over a year at Hogwarts. Without parents to take care of such things for you,

Hogwarts takes those matters into her own hands." His hand was on Harry's back
now, and Snape gave a push, ushering Harry through the doors of the bookshop. "I
trust you brought your supplies list with you. It would be a shame for you to fail the
year because your brain was unable to comprehend that it would be prudent to bring
your supply list with you when you went to purchase you school supplies."
Harry rolled his eyes but allowed Snape to guide him into the bookstore. The
moment they had passed through the threshold of the building, Harry sprang away
from Snape's hand, walking quickly in the direction of the darker books. He froze
suddenly, remembering that he was being accompanied by a Hogwarts Professor,
and turned around. He looked at Snape with wide, innocent eyes. "You don't happen
to know which directions the Schools books are in?"
Snape merely pointed in the direction opposite to where Harry had originally been
going. With a scowl, the boy walked away from the books he really wanted to
browse. They were in the bookshop for almost an hour, the queues were out of the
doors, and tempers were starting to flare. During this time, Evan had disappeared.
He had gone to Gringotts with Harry's key, and he returned in time to hand over
Harry's money to the cashier.
Snape froze, hand already outstretched with his moneybag dangling from his fingers.
He turned to stare at the Muggle, eyebrows furrowed. "Where did you get that?"
"You are well aware that Harry's parents left him with a considerable sum of money
to his name. As his uncle it's my job to make sure freaks like you do not attempt to
cheat him out of what is rightfully his. When I replied to his Hogwarts letter, I also
wrote to the bank. They were happy," Harry gave a soft snort from beside them, "to
provide me with a new key."
Evan placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, shooting a smug look at Severus as he
began to lead the boy from the store. Harry held onto the handle of the bag with one
hand and the other hand was clenched around the pouch of money Evan had
handed him. Snape gave a growl, and moved to sweep passed them. Harry jumped
to the side to avoid being knocked over by the Potions Master, and inadvertently
bumped into whoever was waiting behind him in the queue. The girl gave a startled
gasp and Harry jumped forward in surprise, as a mountain of books seemed to land
around his feet.
"Oh I'm so sorry!" The girl said, immediately dropping to her knees to collect the
fallen books. "I shouldn't of dropped things on you. But you should have been
watching where you were stepping."

Harry bent down to help her. He handed her two books before stopping, his brain
finally processing her words. He had just been scolded, and apologized to, in the
one sentence? Harry raised an eyebrow at her, a small smile tugging on his lips as
he held out his hand to her. She took hold of it and allowed Harry to help her to her
feet. "My sincerest apologize, miss. I really should have exercised a greater degree
of care. But you see, this will be my first year and I have never seen the Alley so
busy before. It's a little disconcerting. You will have to forgive me, just this once." He
offered her a smile, and a nod of his head, before he took a step backwards.
Evan was watching her parents with narrowed eyes. The two of them were huddled
together beside the cash desk, both so obviously Muggle that Harry felt sorry for how
awkward they looked amidst all of the Wizards and Witches. He turned back to Evan
and gave the man a warm smile, "ready to go?"
Before they could walk away, the Muggleborn dived forward and grabbed hold of
Harry's arm. He was Harry Potter, the boy that the rest of the shop had been stealing
covert glances of and desperately tilting their heads this way and that way trying to
catch a glimpse of his scar. None of them had been brave enough to approach him,
nor even dared briefly reach out and touch him with the large Muggle and Professor
Snape flanking him. But this girl, this Mudblood in some people's opinions, had
dared to grab the Boy-Who-lived? Hermione ignored the shocked gasps that
suddenly surrounded her. She didn't know what she had done was wrong. What she
did know was that she was new to this world, and that this boy obviously wasn't, and
she had never really had any friends. She felt it was time to start making some.
"My name is Hermione Granger. This is my first year too, so it was nice to meet
someone who will soon become my peer." She held her hand out for him to shake,
and Harry watched her with a soft smile, noticing how her fingers trembled harder
the longer he left her hand unshaken.
He reached out and squeezed her wrist before bringing her hand up for a light kiss.
"Pleased to meet you, Miss Granger. Would that be Hermione, like Hermione from
The Winter's Tale?" He asked with a grin.3
Her smile widened, and Harry caught a glimpse of overly large front teeth before her
expression blanked out. "Yes it is actually." She was obviously pleased that he had
caught the Shakespearian reference, but was now steeling herself for his teasing.
He didn't say anything for or against the name. Personally he thought it was a
terrible name to give a child, but then again, Draco's grandfather was called
Abraxas. What a horrible name!
He turned away from her, hooked his arm with Evan's and began to walk out of the

store. She watched him go, slightly unsure whether their first meeting had been a
good one or not. She smiled over at her parents quickly, and hurried to rejoin the
queue that had moved on without her. She hadn't gotten his name, but he seemed a
lot nicer than the blond boy from Madam Malkin's had. He seemed like an awfully
spoilt child, and he kept calling her some horrid name that she was certain meant
something derogatory. Professor McGonagall had left her alone in the store while
she gave her parents a quick tour and Hermione had never been more pleased to
see a teacher before than she was when McGonagall came back to rescue her from
Draco Malfoy.
XXX
August 19th 1991. Knockturn Alley.
They had managed to lose Snape after about three hours. Personally, Harry thought
it was less to do with Evan's continued escape manoeuvres and more to do with
Snape not really being arsed to deal with some kid he obviously hated, but he was
happy to let Evan believe what he wanted.
The Death Eater smirked at him, "told you I could get rid of him."
"Sure, Uncle. Of course," Harry acquiesced generously. "You're brilliant."
Evan ignored the heavy sarcasm in favour of looking suspiciously up the street and
then down the street before tugging Harry into an Alley that ran off of Diagon Alley.
The darker half of the shopping district seemed to fold around Harry as he walked
along its cobbled path. The shadows clung to him (it seemed to get darker the
further along they walked), the hags took steps away from him, eyes wide, and
people actually bowed as he walked passed them.
Though, disappointingly, it wasn't because he had done anything special. Those
people all greeted Evan by name, his real name, and it was clear that they were
associates of his. Knockturn Alley was somewhere that Harry hadn't been to in a
while, but he had sort of missed the place. Sure it was creepy as hell, but no one
was staring at him in awe, or reaching out to pet him, or trying to take photos of him
without him noticing (though, obviously, he noticed or he wouldn't of complained to
Evan about them).
Evan opened the door to Borgin & Burkes, allowing Harry to enter first before he
followed his child inside. There were two people already in the shop, conversing with
one of the owners, while a third person lingered behind his father warily. The
youngest turned around as the chime over the door went off.

"Harry!" He called, waving the brunette over. Evan and Lucius both narrowed their
eyes at the familiarity of Draco's behaviour. But there worry wasn't warranted;
because Draco did the same thing that everyone else had been doing all day.
"You're Harry Potter! Did you know you're famous and rich? The name's Malfoy,
Draco Malfoy. I'm rich too, you know. So we should be friends." He held his hand out
to Harry, who grabbed hold of the small, pale hand and shook it.
"Are you famous as well?" Harry asked with a sly grin.
"Infamous, actually." They grinned at each other; the very picture of friendship, but
by now they had lost the attention of the three adults.
Lucius and his friend, who was also a Death Eater, went back to conversing with Mr
Borgin, and Evan calmly browsed the shelves, ignoring the vicious looks Walden
Macnair kept shooting him. "Why are you here, Muggle?" Macnair asked with a
sneer. Evan ignored him, his fingers lightly skimming over the cover of a book he
was considering getting Harry for Yule. "Answer me, you filthy Muggle bastard." A
wand was levelled at Evan, and the man merely allowed his lips to curl into a smirk.
In the blink of an eye, Evan had his own wand pointed between Walden's eyes. With
a whispered, "Crucio", the other Wizard dropped to the ground and began to scream.
"I've missed this, Walden." Evan drawled, twirling his wand between his forefingers.
"It's been a long time since we've played a game." Harry moved to stand at his side,
and Evan allowed the fingers of his free hand to bite into the child's shoulder. His
knuckles were white by the time he cancelled the curse.
Macnair continued to lie on the floor, panting heavily, but he looked up at the other
Wizard through slitted eyes. "So the rumours are true." He wheezed, stopping to
cough for a moment, before speaking again. "Welcome back, Rosier. You've let
yourself go." His eyes travelled over the Muggle's bulky frame and he let out a snort
of amusement. "You were so much prettier before."4
"Crucio," Evan said lazily, tuning out the man's screams with ease.
Draco had gone slightly green in the face, and he was pressed as close to his
father's side as it was possible for him to get. Mr. Borgin was watching worriedly,
hands twisting nervously in front of his chest and he had backed up against the door
to the storeroom, probably trying to escape into the other room. Harry and Lucius
were watching Macnair writhe with similar looks of interest on their faces. Evan gave
an amused snort, as Lucius' eyes moved to land on Harry and a barely noticeable
smile appeared on the Malfoy Lord's face.

"Hello Mr. Potter. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Lucius drawled. He stayed
standing where he was for Draco's sake, but Harry moved towards him, a hand
outstretched.
Lucius took the hand, as he always did, and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. "The
pleasure is all mine," Harry whispered back to him. Lucius' mouth lingered against
the back of Harry's hand just a little bit too long before Lucius reluctantly let him go,
his grey eyes narrowing as he starred at the child before him.
What was it about Harry that had him so greatly affected? The boy was pleasing to
look at, and once he was older he would most definitely be attractive, but Lucius
didn't lust after Harry as he was now. There was something else, something deeper
and darker drawing the blond in, and he was sure he should already know what it
was, but the thought of it just kept escaping his mind, flitting out of reach should he
ever grasp for it. He had been similarly entranced by his Lord on their first meeting,
and for many meetings after that one. But surely, Harry's magic wasn't as dark as
Voldemort's! Not yet at least. But, perhaps, like Evan, Lucius could feel the Horcrux?
It would explain his unnatural fascination with a child his own son's age, Lucius
thought to himself with a frown. And it would help him sleep better at night as well.
By the time the blond came back to himself, Macnair was on his feet again. Walden
was trembling terribly, but he was standing unaided. His eyes flicked between Evan
and Harry, and Harry and Lucius, and back again, before settling on Evan. "This
never happened."
"You saw nothing," Evan agreed, a cold smile sliding across his mouth. Harry stood
tensely at his side, face blank. "Come, child. It's time to go now." He suddenly
pointed to the shelf he had been looking at before he started torturing the other
Death Eater, "save that one. I'll collect it during the week."
They left the store in silence.
They didn't speak again until they came out of the fireplace in Number 4.
"Was that really necessary, Evan?" Harry asked with a scowl. "How do you know he
won't just run off and tell people that I'm being shown around Diagon Alley with a
pretend Muggle, who is really a Death Eater who faked his death, and used two
Unforgivables in the space of five minutes?"
"He is one of us. The Dark Lord was very good at persuading people that what
happens in private should remain private. Those who run their mouths off never
survive for long within the Dark Lord's ranks."

He stormed from the room, and Harry watched him go with a sigh. The door closed
behind Evan just as the Polyjuice began to wear off.
XXX
5 August 21st 1991. Little Whinging.
They lay in the bed together, Harry pressed lightly against Evan's side as the elder
man untied a letter from the leg of an owl. The owl hooted once its burden was freed
and it flew back out of the window it had entered through. Dudley's second bedroom
was small compared to the room Evan had had as a child, but it was better than the
cupboard Harry had previously been forced to sleep in. Evan didn't really see the
point in forcing Petunia to swap room with Harry. Harry was going to Hogwarts in
less than a fortnight, and Evan had absolutely no desire to sleep alone in the room
Dudley Dursley had been conceived in.
"It seems you've made an impression." Evan drawled, fighting back the urge to
laugh.
"What?" Harry asked, leaning up to pluck the letter from Evan's long-fingered hand.
Brown hair hung over brown eyes as the Death Eater flopped his head back onto the
pillow, allowing Harry to read his letter in peace.
The front of the envelope, which was Muggle in nature, read:
To The Boy Who Picked Up My Books,
In, Flourish & Blotts Bookshop
On August 19th.
With a small from on his face, Harry tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter.
"Hello," he read out loud, "you probably don't remember me, but my name is
Hermione Granger and we ran into each other in the bookshop in Diagon Alley.
Unfortunately I didn't get your name and I felt incredibly rude for allowing you to
leave without fully acquainting myself with you. I asked in the store if there was a
way I could reach you, and they told me to owl post you. Of course I don't have an
owl, but they allow you to rent one for a charge at the pet shop close to where we
met. My parents said I was too young to actually get a pet, otherwise I would have
asked for an owl for my birthday. It's in September, by the way.
"That was really all I wanted to say. Oh, I didn't know your address either, but I was
assured that the owl would reach you. Please inform me if you receive this letter. I've

included my address and phone number on the back, and am dearly looking forward
to hearing from you. I can't wait to see you again, but hopefully by then I'll already
know your name. I was reading Hogwarts: A History, and I really have to recommend
it to you. I didn't see it among your purchases at the bookstore, but it really is an
interesting read. I'm rather hoping to end up in Ravenclaw, but I suppose we'll see."
Harry had read Hogwarts: A History when he was nine-years-old, so of course he
didn't buy it just before his first year. He turned into Evan's side and lay down, his
face pressed to the Wizard's chest.
"Ravenclaw, huh?" Harry said at last.
"It looks like you're going to have to tell her your name at least. Apparently, you're
going to be spending seven years together, and then who knows. You might even
get married and have babies." Evan's eyes were closed, but Harry knew they were
twinkling in amusement behind his eyelids.
"Don't," he scolded, smacking Evan's chest lightly, "even joke about things like that.
I'm too young for babies, and she has horribly bushy hair anyway."
"And you're so short." Evan suddenly said, cracking open one eye to take in Harry's
reaction. "You're children will probably look like Cousin It."6
Harry didn't dignify that comment with a response. He just hit Evan harder this time.
XXX
1 " Happy birthday to my friend, Victoria. Not that she'll ever read this lol.
2 " Quirrell didn't meet Voldemort the year before Harry started Hogwarts. It was at
least two years before that. See HP-Lexicon.
3 " J.K. chose the name from Shakespeare's play because she felt that as Dentists,
Hermione's parents would chose a name that sounded clever and unique. I'm not
sure if I want Hermione and Harry to be friends, because Hermione will stay Light
and Harry will be Dark, but they can certainly be acquaintances for now.
4 " Rosier, according to A Dictionary Of Angels by Gustav Davidson, is "a former
lesser-rank angel of the order of dominations, now officiating in Hell". He is
considered the patron demon of tainted love and seduction, especially noted for
assuming a human form of great physical beauty. Evan is particularly handsome in
his natural form, much like Lucius is considered, both being Purebred aristocracy.

5 " Happy birthday to my friend, Lisa. Lol.

6 " Cousin It, from The Adam's Family. Literally, completely covered with hair the
colour of Hermione's, and he isn't that tall either.
* * *
Thanks for reading! I have a few twists in store for the year ahead, but none of it will
involve Voldemort returning. Please leave a review, and I look forward to seeing you
in the next chapter. I made a new banner for New Divide, and I like it more than the
first. It's also on my FFnet profile.
Hello to Rena Pegues, my new friend on facebook!

Chapter 13
Harriverse at HPFan " Hermione won't be in Slytherin, because Harry won't be in
Slytherin... Read the summary. Actually there are a few people who need to read the
prologue again, because I'm being asked a rather lot of pointless questions. And
NO, Voldemort isn't returning in this chapter either.
* * *
Words: 4,021
Chapter 13
September 1st 1991. King's Cross Station.
It was a little strange that Harry was only ever seen with his uncle. Evan usually
didn't mind it the child went off by himself, but whenever they ventured into the
Wizarding World, Evan went with him. Petunia never did. And that was hardly the
way to go about convincing people like Dumbledore that Harry was still a member of
a 'normal', 'ordinary' Muggle family. Petunia and Vernon had hardly ever disagreed,
while Vernon had been alive. But now, after his death, Evan's opinions were so
different to his wife's that the two were barely near each other, unless Evan was in
the mood to humiliate her.
As it was, he had to bring Harry to platform 9 and . And he had made Petunia
come with him. She had protested of course, claiming she needed to get Dudley to
his own school on time, but Evan had insisted that Harry's boarding school was
much more important than Dudley's public school. Petunia hadn't been able to afford
to send her only son to Smelting's private school.
There entire family was there. Dudley, trembling with fear, pressed against his
mother's side to shield himself from the magical people. Petunia, cradling her
swelling right cheek with one hand, the other arm wrapped around her son's large
shoulders as she glared defiantly at anyone who looked down their nose at her.
Harry and Vernon stood side by side, both smiling softly at the bright red steam train
that was docked in the station. Petunia and Dudley had been able to get through the
barrier when one of the others was touching them. Evan was going to have to take
them out one by one, since Harry wouldn't be leaving with them.
"It's amazing," Harry breathed. His trunk had a 'featherlite charm' on it, and he was
able to lift it up easily.

Evan pulled him into a brief hug, his fingers clenching on Harry's shoulders, before
he pushed the child away. His jaw was clenched, and while Harry was way too
excited about going to Hogwarts to be sad right then, he knew Evan was upset at his
leaving.
"It's ok. I'll be home for Christmas. And I'm sure you can find a way to see me,
right?" Harry's eyes had widened hopefully, and it pulled a smile onto Evan's mouth.
"I will definitely come to see you, Caen." He took a deep breath. Over Harry's
shoulders, he spotted the Malfoy family making there way towards one of the train
carriages. He nodded his head at them, and Draco waved back. "Now, onto the train
without, else it's going to go without you."
Harry snorted. "Now that just won't do."
"It certainly won't. Goodbye, child." The man moved away from Harry then, coming
to stand beside the Muggles. He raised his hand slightly, imitating a wave, and Harry
copied the gesture. Harry offered one more smile, and turned on his heels. He
walked towards Draco, dragging his trunk behind him, though he did throw another
grin over his shoulder at Evan as he boarded the train.
"Write to me!" Harry shouted through the window of the compartment he and Draco
were sitting in. The train began to pull away, gaining speed with every second. Harry
watched his aunt's face screw up in distaste as he passed her. He watched her
mouth carefully, frowning as he made out the words.
"Good riddance." She hissed.
Evan tensed beside her. A hand clamped around her throat, fierce tight and painful,
and he squeezed until she began to release horrible gasping breathes, wheezing
and fighting to breathe. He let her go, his face a cold mask of anger, before he
turned away from her completely and continued to watch the Hogwarts Express take
his son out of sight.
XXX
Draco sat with his back pressed to the wall, and his legs stretched out over the seat.
Harry sat opposite him, around the other side of the small table that separated them,
but he sat properly, with his feet on the floor and his back against the back of the
chair. Draco rolled his eyes and gave a small chuckle at Harry's pointed stare.
"Oh relax. There isn't anyone sitting there, or wanting to sit there, so obviously it's ok
for me to take up both seats. And anyway, I'm far more important than anyone else

on the train."
"What's your point?" Harry asked with a small smile. He always found Draco's antics
amusing, even when the boy was being seriously self-centric.
"Therefore," he drawled, "I have more right to put my feet on that chair, than anyone
else does to sit on it. This conversation is over, Potter," Draco added loudly, just as
Harry opened his mouth again. The brunette's mouth snapped closed, a frown
spreading across it, before he rolled his eyes and let it pass.
"Whatever, Malfoy." He answered lightly.
Draco pulled out a pack of Exploding Snap cards from a pocket inside his cloak and
slid them across the table towards Harry. "How about it?" When Harry nodded,
Draco grabbed the pack back, and opened it. He shuffled the cards, and was just
about to start dealing them when the compartment door slammed open.
A gangly looking boy with red hair and no shortage of freckles stood in the doorway
looking sheepish. "Sorry about that. Didn't realize I pushed so hard." He dragged his
trunk into the compartment, and he seemed to be struggling with it, but neither Harry
nor Draco stood to lend him assistance. "You mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is
full." He didn't wait for an answer before he lifted the trunk up, arms wobbling
precariously, as he tried to shove it onto the rack above Harry's head.
The brunette's eyes were wide as he watched. He shifted across the seat, pressing
himself against the window, just in case the redhead dropped the trunk onto the seat
where he had been sitting. Draco was watching it all with great amusement. Still
sprawled out across the seat, his grey eyes sparkled as he watched the boy struggle
with the heavy trunk.
"I could cast a featherlite for you," he offered amiably. The redhead turned to offer
him a smile, almost dropping the trunk at the same time. Draco let out a soft snort,
"but I won't."
He started dealing the cards, handing Harry's half towards him and keeping his own.
He turned over a card first, waiting for Harry, and then he played again. The boy had
stowed his trunk by this point and was looking between the two empty seats. He was
obviously not very bright, because he swept around to the other side of the table and
smacked Draco's legs down off of the seat.
"I'm Ron-" He started but a snarl from Draco stopped him.
"Red hair, freckles, hand me down clothes. You must be a Weasley. My father told

me all about you." The blond kicked out his legs, swinging them back onto the seat
and pushing Ron onto the floor. "And you so clearly do not have any manners.
Disgraceful, it is, that they let your kind into Hogwarts!"
Ron's face had gone red and blotchy with anger, and he opened his mouth to say
something back to Draco, but then heard Harry's attempt to abort his laughter. He
whirled around angrily, sneering at Harry. "What's so funny, Mudblood?" Harry raised
an eyebrow at the insult, and Draco narrowed his eyes, indignant on Harry's behalf.
"You think it's funny that I'm poor and have a lot of siblings? Do you? Well at least I
come from a Magical family! More than you can say, huh? Bloody hell, I saw those
ugly Muggles with you at the train station, and I saw Snape showing you around
Diagon Alley." Ron tugged at the hem of his sleeve nervously. It was tattered, and
there were patches sewn over the elbows. The robe was a few inches too short for
the boy as well, and obviously a hand-me-down.
Once upon a time, Harry would have had so much in common with the rude
redhead. But that was before Evan killed his uncle. And before Ron had
thoughtlessly insulted both Evan and his mother in one sentence. People who didn't
think before they spoke deserved to suffer the consequences their words brought
upon them. What was it Evan had once said to him? My words fly up, my thoughts
remain below: words without thoughts never to heaven go.1 Shakespeare had
possible wrote that line with a Weasley in mind, Harry thought snidely.
"Do you have a problem with Muggleborns?" Harry asked softly, not at all affronted
for himself. "I thought that was a Slytherin prejudice? No offence Draco."
"I- uh, no?" Ron said ineloquently.
The blond suddenly butted in, "and for your information, that, is Harry Potter!" Draco
pointed at him, waving his arms to emphasise the name, and he had the biggest
shit-eating grin ever on his face.
Ron's face paled as fast as it had reddened. In comparison to how red it had been,
the paleness made Ron look rather like an Inferi. Harry watched him warily, waiting
for some extreme reaction, either hatred or adoration. But the boy merely nodded
slowly, trying to process the information, and then suddenly his eyes widened
comically. He reached out a hand towards Harry. "Harry, mate, why didn't you say
so?"
Harry didn't take the hand, so Ron moved to sit beside Harry. The brunette frowned.
He was sitting by the window, which left one seat open by the aisle, but as Ron
came nearer, Harry slid right across the seat until he was sitting on the edge and

there was no room for the redhead.

"You wouldn't want to sit next to a Mudblood, would you?" Harry asked slowly, an
eyebrow rose as he tapped the fingers of one hand slowly against the table. Ron
sputtered for a moment, his eyes darting back to the other chair where Draco had
kicked him away and then up to his trunk. He turned then, left the trunk there, and
left the compartment completely. "My mother was Muggleborn, you know."
"I know," Draco said softly. He played lightly with his set of cards.
"Do you have a problem with it?"
"It's your turn, Potter. Lay a card already." Harry overturned one of his cards and
placed it on top of the small pile in the centre of the table. Draco's hand closed over
the pile, and he shouted, "snap," before it could explode.
"And I obviously have no problem with your parentage, idiot," he added fondly,
before he began to deal for a new game.
XXX
September 1st 1991. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The train slowed down until it eventually stopped. Students milled into the corridors
of the train, eyeing each other warily. Everyone but the First Years wore black robes
with their House crests on the right breast pocket and stripped ties. Harry, Draco and
the rest of their year mates wore plain black robes and no ties at all.
Well, some of them, like Ron who was sure he'd be in Gryffindor, had a red and gold
tie, which belonged to his second eldest brother once, stuffed into his robe pocket.
Draco was certain he would be in Slytherin, but Narcissa was going to stick with the
tradition and owl the ties and crests along after the Sorting had taken place.
Harry didn't know where he would end up, and he found it strange that so many of
his year mates were walking along telling everyone how they would be in so-and-so
House because all of their family had been. It was a ridiculous belief. All of Harry's
family had been in Gryffindor, but that was the only House Harry had completely
narrowed out of the equation. He was definitely not ending up there.
"First Years ov'r here!" A loud voice called. Harry looked over when he heard Draco
gasp. The blond was staring at a man who was almost as tall as the train. A large
hand waved them over and Harry cringed as he briefly imagined Dudley's face on
the giant's body. His hands were bigger than Harry's head.

Harry spotted Ron walking over. He had left a compartment with two other redheads
and a black boy. One was a friend, and the other two were obviously brothers, and
all three were much older than Ron and were shouting after him, things that made
Ron scowl and blush and walk away that much faster.
"Leave yer trunks. Argus'll get 'em." The giant continued.
Whoever Argus was, Harry didn't know, but he trusted that someone who worked for
Hogwarts knew what he was talking about. The children were hoping off of the train
in groups, most of them running ahead in the direction opposite Hagrid, towards
carriages that were tied to strange wraith-like horses. Harry followed the other first
years away from the rest of the students.
"What are those?" Harry whispered to Draco, pointing back in the direction of the
carriages. They stopped beside a lake, watching warily as Hagrid ushered them into
groups of four. Several boats hovered on the surface of the black water, and the lake
stretched out for miles in front of them, so far in fact that Hogwarts wasn't even
visible yet.
Hagrid stopped beside them, a sheet of parchment in his hands. He ticked off names
as he put the children in the boats, making sure everyone was accounted for. He
heard Harry's question, and answered at the same time as Draco.
"What, Harry?" The blond said.
Hagrid dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief. "Yer can see the Thestrals?" He
asked, "yer poor boy, yer!" He gave a sniffle, that was strong enough to ruffle Harry's
hair, and then tucked away his handkerchief. "Now, into the boat wit yer." He
grabbed Harry by the collar of his robes and lifted the child clean off of the ground.
Hagrid waded into the water and put Harry down gently into one of the boats. Those
who were already seated in a boat were trembling lightly, not having yet forgotten
being picked up one handed and carried over a lake.
Before Hagrid could grab for Draco, a girl suddenly shoved her way between the
blond and Hagrid. "Hermione Granger, sir. I should be on that list."
"Er?" Hagrid scratched at his chin, while he looked at the parchment. "So yer are.
Suppose yer'll be in this here boat then." He lifted Hermione up and put her down
beside Harry. Draco did manage to land himself in the same boat as them, along
with a slightly podgy boy who trembled with terror every time one of the other three
so much as looked in his direction.
"Oh," Hermione said slowly, "that's Neville Longbottom. He's lost his toad." Harry

didn't bother asking how she knew that. He just nodded his head, and resolved
himself to spend the rest of the boat ride in silence.
When the castle finally came into view Harry couldn't help but gasp. It was brilliant!
He couldn't think of any other word to describe the beauty in front of him. The sun
had just begun to set (having wasted the day travelling) and the splashes of gold and
pink spread out across the sky just beyond the castle, making it look as if Hogwarts
had a halo of light. Harry smiled softly at the thought. It was beautiful.
And it was going to be his home.
"Oh my," Hermione breathed out, her hand pressed to her chest. "Wow."
"My thoughts exactly," Harry said in agreement.
"I've seen it before," Draco said smugly, "my father is a school governor. I've seen
Hogwarts loads of times!" But even though that was true, Draco didn't look any less
impressed than the rest of the first years. This was, after all, Draco's first time seeing
Hogwarts from the outside.
"Thank you, Hagrid," a stern looking woman said, as she helped the giant dock the
boats at the edge of the lake. "My name is Minerva McGonagall," she offered
Hermione a small smile, remembering the Muggleborn girl, "and I am deputy
Headmistress at Hogwarts and Head of Gryffindor House."
She led the way into the castle, and it was all Harry could do to avoid the others
stepping on him. He wasn't the tallest in his year, and everyone was so excited and
awed, their heads were snapping left then right trying to take in as much as possible,
but no one was really watching where they were going. A loud yell and a crash
alerted McGonagall to the fact that Ron Weasley had just walked straight into a
Knight in Armour. The Knight raised his sword at Ron, the slits in its helmet narrowed
and he took a step forward. McGonagall flicked her wand and the Knight fell still
again, moving back into its usual position.
"Mr Weasley, if it isn't too much to ask, could you please watch where you are
going? The sorting is about to start." She tsked at him in displeasure and then
carried on walking. Most of the children were too nervous to laugh, but Draco
managed a grin full of smug superiority, aiming it at Ron just as they brushed by him.
Harry fought back a soft chuckle.
"When I call your names," the Professor told them, "walk forward, sit on the stool and
then you will be sorted." The first to be called forward was a blond girl named
'Abbott, Hannah'.

Hermione took a deep breath as her name was called. She straightened her back
and shoulders and walked forward unhurriedly, trying to appear calm. She sat primly
on the stool, her ankles crossed and her hands folded in her lap. As the hat touched
her head, her eyes darted in Harry's direction. She so desperately wanted to be his
friend.
"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat cried. Hermione grinned widely in Harry's direction and ran
towards the red and gold table.
"She was convinced she'd be a Ravenclaw." Harry muttered to his friend. "I wonder
why she got Gryffindor?"
"Maybe she thought you'd go there?" Draco suggested, as the next name was
called.
"She thought wrong," Harry hissed back.
When it was Draco's turn, the hat had barely touched his head before screaming,
"SLYTHERIN!" loudly. Harry smiled as his friend beamed and primped at the silver
and green table. Draco looked around, smirking, eyeing his Housemates in distaste
or curiosity or respect, depending on who they were. Most everyone looked towards
the Malfoy heir with pleased smiles on their faces.
"Potter, Harry," McGonagall said. Though, the 'Harry' part was drowned out by the
suddenly cries that filled the Great Hall.
'Is that really him there, that one?' one person whispered.
'The Harry Potter?' another cried.
'He's so short!'
'Is that him? Are you sure?' someone asked, wide eyed.
Harry rolled his eyes. He stepped forward, ignoring the whispers and strode towards
the front of the Hall. He sat on the stool and just before the hat fell to cover his eyes
he caught sight of Draco smiling at him.
"Well who do we have here? Ah, Harry Potter! How are you? Now let's see...
Cunning, bravery in moderation, hmm, you have a rather vindictive streak as
well young man. I'd hate to get on the wrong side of you. Gryffindor is not the
House for you, I'm afraid. Ah hah! What's this? A great mind, the thirst for
knowledge and to prove yourself. I suppose there is only one choice left, but

Slytherin would have done you good as well. You would have found true
friends there... Oh but you already have a friend there! Clever, clever of you to
seek friends outside of your House. Well, that settles it. The answer must be...
It was the longest sorting anyone could remember and many people were looking
worried, wondering if maybe Harry Potter didn't belong at Hogwarts. And then the
Hat spoke out loud.
"...RAVENCLAW!"
Everyone at the grey and blue table burst into applause, flying up out of their seats
and laughing and grinning wildly. The Slytherin's slumped dejectedly into their chairs,
eyeing Draco worriedly, for most of them knew that Harry and Draco had been
friends (on the train at least). At the Gryffindor table, most of the students consoled
themselves that at least Harry wasn't in Slytherin. But Hermione Granger began to
cry softly. She could have gone to Ravenclaw, but she had chosen not to, because
everyone had told her how Harry Potter's parents were in Gryffindor and that was
where he would end up too. The Hufflepuffs cheered along with the Ravenclaws:
they hadn't ever expected the Saviour to end up in their House.
Harry took his seat at the table, allowing an older boy to make space for him
between his friends. Most of the first years sat at the front of the table, closest to the
teachers, but Harry had sat down directly in the middle of the Ravenclaw Quidditch
team.
"I'm Roger Davis, I've been made captain this year," he told Harry, reaching out to
pump the boy's hand enthusiastically. Two other boys introduced themselves as
Adam Bradley and Benjamin Chambers, both Chasers.2
The sorting soon came to a close, and Harry was so busy shaking hands that he
completely missed whatever it was that Headmaster Dumbledore said. The food
appeared, and it seemed to be enough to make people leave him alone a little. They
all started eating, but as Harry loaded his plate with food, he couldn't help but sweep
his eyes around the Hall, taking in the people, and teachers and ghosts, and
tapestries. The sky above them was beautiful and black and speckled with stars, but
Harry knew it wasn't real. It was merely charmed, but that didn't make it any less
beautiful.
Ravenclaw received ten new Ravenclaws, not including himself. As far as he could
remember, that was the most new students than any other House got this year. He
felt rather pleased about that.
As he was eating, he managed to catch Draco's eyes. He watched the blond

worriedly. Harry knew Draco had been looking forward to being in the same House,
and while he had tried to tell Draco several times that he probably wouldn't be in
Slytherin, the blond wasn't known for his listening skills. The blond met his gaze
evenly. His eyes narrowed for a moment, before a smile settled on his mouth.
"Idiot," he mouthed over at Harry. The brunette beamed.
Harry kept eating. He tried to ignore Hermione who was waving in his direction, tears
on her face. He told himself he shouldn't feel guilty. It wasn't his fault she ended up
in a House that didn't suit her. If she had stayed true to herself, instead of wanting
solely to be with Harry instead of where she would fit in best, then she wouldn't be
crying right then. He looked over and flinched at the horridly betrayed look on her
face. It wasn't his fault, he told himself. And they weren't even friends for that matter,
so why did he even care?
He turned away from her resolutely.
Now wasn't the time for him to feel sad or guilty. He should be happy. He was finally
at Hogwarts, and he had his own, real wand, (though he was totally keeping his
training wand as well), and he had landed in a House that made him happy, and that
he knew would make Evan proud. He'd write to Evan once they were shown their
rooms.
Harry was sure his grey-and-blue-stripped tie would arrive the following morning with
the owl post.
The two redheads who had stepped off of the Express with Ron drew his attention.
They were leaning on each other, faking loud sobs that made Harry's mouth twitch in
amusement, while howling, "We didn't get Potter!" Harry ducked his head to hide his
smile.
Hogwarts was going to be interesting. He would bet on it.
XXX
1 " "My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: Words without thoughts never to
heaven go." " Hamlet, Act 3, Scene III, by Shakespeare.
2 " Roger Davis is two years above Harry, as is Chambers and Bradley (or possibly
three years for the last two) according to the HP-Lexicon. They didn't have first
names, so I made them up.
* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review.

I'm heading to Turkey next Monday, so if you never hear from me again, my friends
have traded me for a camel (someone actually tried to do that to a girl I once knew
lol), but ignoring this unlikely event I should be around before the 9th. If I'm not
working, I'll try and update.
I'm working on Black Complication as well, but it's been so long, I have to re-read the
entire story. That's 22,000+ words to get through in one sitting. It's hard, especially
since I keep getting distracted. I'm pretty busy with last minute things for the rest of
the week, and work (oh my priorities), so if I update, I update. If not, then I apologize
in advance.

Chapter 14
I'm back from Turkey... and fortunately I haven't been traded for a camel. Sorry,
Araea Swiftwind, but I did not see ONE handsome camel. So I had to pass.
And anyway, according to a Facebook Quiz, I am worth "no camels... but MAYBE
one chicken"... fail.
I hate this chapter. I don't like it at all.
* * *
Words: 3,538
Chapter 14
September 2nd 1991. Hogwarts.
As the sun rose, light streamed into the room, just above Harry's bed. His eyes
fluttered. A few of the other boys stirred as well, but they just rolled over and tried to
get back to sleep. However, the moment Harry's eyes were open, he sat up straight
in the bed, a huge grin spreading over his face.
Classes were starting today.
It was his first day at Hogwarts.
"Come on, come on," he shouted at his roommates. Out of the other five boys, only
one sat up.
"What time is it?" He grumbled sleepily. His name was Kevin Entwhistle.
After casting a 'Tempus', Harry told him, "it's 7am. Breakfast is on from 7-10, and
classes start at 9. It's time to get up. No one wants to be late on their first day,
especially not a Ravenclaw."
Three of the others stirred at that. Anthony Goldstein disappeared into the bathroom
without a word. Michael Corner rubbed at his eyes grumpily, but rolled from the bed
anyway. Terry Boot followed his example, exclaiming about how his parents would
be disappointed if he was late to class. As a family of Ravenclaws, he was expected
to be studious and attentive, just like his parents had been. Harry rolled his eyes,
making sure that no one could see him do it, before turning his attention to the last
person in the room.

Stephen Cornfoot, the only Muggleborn among them, was still fast asleep. Harry
slipped from his bed, and made his way to Stephen's. A nudge to his shoulder wasn't
enough to rouse the boy, and Harry, having been raised by a Death Eater, wasn't the
most compassionate person alive.
"Well I tried," he told the others, before disappearing into the bathroom after
Anthony.
The remaining three boys watched their dormmate sleep and frowned after the BoyWho-Lived. "Wake him up then?" Kevin nudged Terry.
"Why should I? If the Muggleborn wants to sleep through his morning classes, let
him. I have to eat breakfast and then go study. Excuse me." Terry grabbed his robes
and toiletries off of the top of his trunk and went into the bathroom.
"I agree with him," Michael said, giving a small shrug.
Just because they weren't Slytherins didn't mean they would tolerate Muggleborns
that were lazy and refused to do well at school. They were Ravenclaws for Merlin
sake! Sleeping in, when you could be studying, and on a weekday was a terrible
thing to do. Blood purity aside: that was how you divide the good people from the
bad. Michael told Kevin as much, and left the dorm as well.
When Harry came back into the dorm, the other four boys flanked him. Kevin was
ready, but was still hovering by Stephen's bed. Apparently the boy slept like a log.
With another roll of his eyes, Harry pointed his wand at the bed. "Abscindo!" He said
the word softly, and the other eleven-year-olds didn't recognize the spell, so they
didn't react until Stephen gave a loud squeal and leapt from the bed, blood dripping
down his arm.
"What did you do?" Anthony whispered.
Occasionally, some Dark children ended up in Ravenclaw. Since these children
didn't recognize this particularly 'light' Dark spell, then Harry obviously wasn't so
fortunate this year, or his roommates were very good actors.
"Cutting hex," Harry said simply, as he picked up his book bag. "He's awake, isn't
he?"
Stephen was curled up on the edge of the bed, sobbing lightly, his bleeding arm
clutched to his chest. "I'll bring him to the nurse." Michael offered. Kevin had stayed
beside him all morning, trying to wake him, so now he stepped away, happily
relieving the burden of the other boy onto someone else.

Harry frowned. He was usually a nice guy. Honestly, he was. But he had no patience
for laziness. Maybe the boy wanted to sleep in, and fair enough, he could. On a
weekend. Or once they received their schedules, and if they had free classes until
11, then Stephen could sleep in all he wanted. But today was their first day, and
Harry didn't want anyone giving his House a bad reputation.
"I'm going to breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day, you know." He left.
He was the Boy-Who-Lived, after all, even though he was being a little bit uncaring.
But maybe he just wasn't a morning person? Everyone but Stephen and Michael
followed Harry from the dorm, and then out of the common room entrance.
The Great Hall was half full by the time Harry got there. The elder years had gotten
the hang of waking as late as possible, eating as quickly as possible, and still getting
to class on time, so they weren't there. Mostly, it was the first and second years, the
prefects and Head boys and Head girls who were in the Hall.
Draco waved Harry over to the Slytherin table.
In 'Hogwarts: A History', it said that the Headmaster never gave a speech in the
morning because the students were never all there at the same time. Unlike lunch
and dinner. Harry really only needed to sit at his table when Professor Flitwick was
handing out their timetables.
"I thought you would be the first one here." Draco smirked.
Harry sat on the bench beside the blond and helped himself to some food. "I would
have been." He told Draco about Stephen and the Cutting hex.
"Stupid Mudblood," was all Draco said in response.
"It was rather annoying. They just ignored him because I did, or stood there
attempting to wake him, because I made a feeble attempt, but no one, in a room
filled mostly with Purebloods, no one thought to use magic. It's a pity. I bet Hogwarts
wasn't like that when Evan was in school."
"Father used to say that the last one awake in his dorm every morning would get
hexed. It sort of always sounded like fun."
"You did it, didn't you?" Harry tried to suppress a smile, but he couldn't help but let it
bloom across his face. "Who?"
"Well I simply had to! The opportunity was right before me, and I could not let it pass

by. Harry, what kind of Slytherin would I be then?" Draco smirked. "And it was
Theodore Nott." Draco pointed at a mousy, dark haired boy a few seats down, whose
head was hanging over his food.
Harry couldn't get a good look at his face, but he thought he recognized him. "Isn't
he the son of Theaodore Nott? Wasn't he a you know, you know?" Draco gave a
nod. "I think I met his brother once. Terrance looked just as beat down as Theo
does."
"Maybe their father is like your Muggles?" Draco asked concernedly. He didn't like to
see anyone abused, especially after meeting Harry.
"Maybe."
Needing to change the subject, Draco plastered a grin on his face and shoved Harry
sideways. "So it's 'Theo' now, is it? Harry has a crush! Harry has a crush!"
"Your behaviour is the epitome of undignified." Harry hissed. He turned his head
away from Draco pointedly, but ended up staring at Theo Nott, who was staring back
at him. Looking hurriedly away again, Harry's eyes darted to the other side of the
Great Hall, where Hermione was watching him, her eyes red and puffy. She waved
at him.
Harry looked away again.
XXX
Their first class had been Charms with just Ravenclaws. Professor Flitwick had been
just as excitable as he had been during the welcoming speech the night before,
except this time, he didn't fall over at the mention of Harry's name. Afterwards, the
Ravenclaws shared a class with the Gryffindors for Transfiguration, where they were
all immensely pleased to see Ron Weasley thoroughly embarrassed by Professor
McGonagall. A small break followed the two morning classes, before the students
were expected to head on to Herbology with the Slytherins.1
It wasn't that it was a very interesting class that made it memorable. But rather what
happened in it. One would think that being the famous Boy-Who-Lived would have
made Harry immune to teasing, but apparently not.
They had been forced to partner with someone outside of their own House.
Professor Sprout had been most insistent, and when Crabbe and Goyle had
pointedly ignored her and continued to stand beside Draco she had frowned,
scowled, and then smiled sweetly, before releasing a cutting of Devil's Snare onto

them.
"Now, partner with someone outside of your House, please," she repeated.
With a long-suffering sigh, Harry cast 'Incendio' on the plant, freeing his year mates.
He made his way to Draco's side, offering the other Ravenclaws a smug grin as he
was awarded five house points for perfect spell casting. Harry had stopped just
beside his blond friend, when Draco suddenly shoved him sideways. Harry looked
up, frowning. But before he could speak, Draco smirked widely at him and gave
another shove. This time, Harry fell against someone. The other person
automatically reached out to grab his shoulders, steadying Harry against his chest.
Harry looked over his shoulder and winced. "Sorry," he whispered to Theodore Nott.
The elder boy looked down at him with a frown, his eyes narrowed, but his hands still
on Harry's arms.
"I see you've already picked a partner, Harry." Draco gave another grin, and Harry
promised himself silently that he would smother the blond as he slept that night.
Somehow, despite the fact that they slept at opposite ends of the castle, somehow
Harry would get him back. "You, Boot. You're Pureblooded, aren't you? You're my
partner. Come here!" A hand waved imperiously, and Terry was afraid to do anything
but obey. He shuffled forward, and hesitantly stood beside the blond. He shot the
brunette apologetic looks, but Harry was too busy glaring holes in Draco to notice.
"Suppose we're partners then?" Theo asked. He spoke so softly that Harry could
barely hear him. He wouldn't look Harry in the eye either. Instead when he spoke, he
looked at Harry's mouth, his fringe hanging down into his eyes. "Sorry about that."
Theo added with a shrug.
"It's not a problem." Harry stood at Theo's worktable, noticing with a frown that Theo
was standing alone, and the area directly surrounding him was empty as well. "I
really don't mind."
"Most people would have." Theo added with a shrug. Then he seemed to realize
what he had said, and flinched back, shrinking into himself. Theo didn't speak again
during the lesson unless it was work related, and Harry noticed that he purposely
ignored Draco's whispering.
"Hey Harry, did you tell Nott you loved him yet? Oi, traitor, Harry loves you. Harry
has a crush! I suppose he's a better choice than Granger." It went on for most of the
lesson, and despite the numerous dirty looks and stinging hexes Harry sent his way,
Draco just refused to stop. Crabbe and Goyle had even started cracking their
knuckles in Theo's direction whenever the word 'traitor' was used.

The second the bell went off, Theodore practically flew out of the greenhouse.
History of Magic was next. Harry was with the Gryffindors again and Draco was
headed to Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs.
"What was that about? With Nott?" Harry asked, frowning. "Was it really necessary?"
Draco just shoved. "Yeah maybe I should be nicer, because he's probably being
abused, but, still..." He trailed off uncomfortably.
"He's a traitor, in't he?" Gregory Goyle asked, looking at Draco for clarification. The
blond gave a nod, and then he and Goyle followed the rest of the Slytherin first years
away from Harry.
Neither Evan nor Lucius had ever spoken to him about those who had betrayed the
Dark Lord. Well, they spoke about Snape, but that was different. No one was really
sure if Snape actually was a traitor. Maybe he really was a spy, and maybe he
wasn't. So, Snape didn't really count. Real traitors weren't a conversation that
Harry's Death Eater associates liked to talk about. Next time Harry saw Evan, he'd
make sure to ask about the Notts.
XXX
Lunch was a strained affair. Hermione had followed him the whole way from History
of Magic over to the Slytherin table, and had obtusely refused to see that she wasn't
welcome. So with Hermione on one side of him, and Theodore somehow ending up
sitting on the other side of him, and Draco opposite him alternating between laughter
and glaring, Harry didn't enjoy his lunch one bit.
When the bell rang for Potions to start, Harry was more than happy to leave the
Great Hall. He wasn't looking forward to a class with Snape, but at least it was with
the Hufflepuffs. Which meant, no Hermione, no Theodore, and no Draco who Harry
desperately wanted to throttle.
Professor Snape wasn't at all happy to see Harry Potter at Hogwarts. He had hated
the boy's father, and he hated the idea of the boy as well. Honestly, he didn't hate
the boy. He just didn't know him, but he didn't care to get to know him. Regardless of
what Headmaster Dumbledore said, or Minerva, or Filius said, Severus didn't think
he would ever like the child that should have been his. Severus would have happily
gone his whole life without running into Potter's spawn.
And to make matters worse, his own godson was conspiring against him! Draco was

apparently good friends with Potter, despite only knowing each other a day! Draco
had had the gall to demand Severus give Harry the Slytherin password so that he
could visit and sleepover whenever he wanted. It was an unbelievable request.
Certainly only a Malfoy would dare.
Severus had, of course, refused. And he had spoken to Filius over lunch to make
sure that permission was not granted for Draco to remain in the Ravenclaw dorms
either. Draco could do better than Potter. Imagine what Lucius would say if he knew!
Snape scoffed to himself, a smirk spreading across his face as he imagined Lucius
Malfoy putting Potter in his place.
He grabbed the door handle, and swung it open. The Hufflepuff who had been
leaning against the door fell into the room, landing at Snape's feet in a pile. He
looked up with a blush and hurriedly pulled himself together. The students rushed
into the room, all avoiding the heated gaze Snape had on them and settled into their
seats. Harry was the last to enter, and he met Snape's glare dead on. His face was
blank, his eyes wide and unguarded as he met Severus'. Harry offered a smile, one
that bared his eyeteeth and stretched his cheeks wide. He had seen Evan smile at
Petunia like that often, and each time Petunia had cringed away in fear. Severus
gave a small, barely noticeable flinch, recognizing the gesture from his Death Eater
days, but not knowing who he had seen smile like that before. Snape focused on
Harry's eyes, pushing into his mind, needing to know why Lily's son was grinning at
him that way.
Harry had been reading about Occlumency for some time. Occasionally, Evan
allowed him to practise. Rosier had never been much good at it, but Lucius' shields
were passable enough to fool most of the Wizengamot. Whenever Harry was alone
with Lucius, they would practise. Even with two years of practise and magical theory,
Harry still had quite a way to go. He doubted he would ever be an expert at the art,
his mind was too open, his nature too feeling to ever be completely hidden behind
blank faces and walls. But he was able to push Snape away, just a gentle nudge to
Severus' own mind, almost like a flick on the ear.
The Professor's mind drew back sluggishly. He hadn't seen anything, of that Harry
was sure. But he would probably be suspicious now. Harry would have to make sure
not to meet his eyes too often. Maybe he should let Snape view some of his
memories? Lucius had claimed that Snape hated him, and Harry was prepared to
hate back, but maybe seeing some of the Dursleys' actions would thaw Snape to
him a little? It would be beneficial if all of the Hogwarts professors liked him!
Snape glared. Something had touched his mind, and the only person close enough
to him to have attempted Legilimency was Potter. But the boy wouldn't have the

skills or the training, or the brainpower, Snape thought with a sneer.

"Harry Potter," he hissed, putting his suspicions aside for the moment, "our newest
celebrity." He held the door wider, beckoning Harry inside silently. The moment
Harry's passed through the threshold, Snape allowed the door to close with a slam.
Every student in the room jumped at the noise. "Take your seat, Potter. Now let's
begin-"
XXX
During dinner that evening a package came for Draco and another came for Harry.
Harry was sitting at his own table for once, eating slowly and trying to forget the
rather inane speech the Headmaster had just given. Hedwig2, a snowy white owl
who was as beautiful as she was intelligent, came soaring across the Great Hall and
landed silently beside Harry's plate. She had been a gift from Narcissa Malfoy, who
had also bought her son an eagle owl named Edos.3
The package contained Harry's bronze-and-blue stripped tie, plus two spares, and a
crest that the House Elves would sew onto his robes. Two more robes, plus crest,
were inside the box as well. And there was a letter.
"Meave. Two shall pass in the hill where they stay. Rejoice my return before
they steal you away. Titania." 4
Harry folded up the letter and placed it in his trouser pocket. He looked over at
Draco, who was reading a letter of his own, before smiling into his pumpkin juice.
Evan was coming to see him in two days. Harry hadn't even realized he had missed
his father until just then. The fact that Evan was coming so soon meant a lot to
Harry. He was glad that Evan missed him as well. Briefly he wondered if Lucius
would visit them as well, or if he would be just another parent and wait until the
holidays. The thought of not seeing Lucius until Christmas cause a pang of
something to spread through his chest, but Harry brushed it aside. Draco wasn't
upset about not seeing his father, so what right did Harry have to be? Lucius was
probably sick of seeing him by now anyway... or maybe... maybe Lucius liked seeing
Harry too? Harry gave another smile, his head ducked over his cup so no one would
see.
"Thinking about Theo, are you?" Draco asked suddenly, having snuck up behind
him.
"What? No!"
"You are, aren't you? You really do have a crush on Theo!"

"I do not have a crush on Nott," Harry insisted, even as he shifted aside to let Draco
sit beside him.
"But you do have a crush? Already? It must be on Granger!" Draco scowled at the
idea. The pitiful Mudblood was still staring over at Harry from the Gryffindor table.
For all her book smarts, she was too stupid to see that Harry didn't want to be her
friend.
Harry didn't want to tell Draco that the reason he was smiling so widely was because
he was thinking about his father. That would be slightly awkward, not to mention
weird. Draco didn't smile like that when they talked about Harry's father. It was all so
confusing. But maybe it was a part of growing up, and he'd understand when he was
older?
"What did you want?"
"I wrote to father about you." Draco said loudly. They were still going along with the
game that they had only just met. "He said he's very pleased that you are my friend.
He hopes to meet you at Yule time." Draco turned his head slowly, purposely settling
his gaze on his godfather and raised an 'I told you so' eyebrow. Snape had insisted
that Lucius wouldn't approve of Draco's new friend! Draco had tried to argue with
him, but the man had been rather stubborn. Draco was determined to show his
godfather that, as always, he had been right.
At the Head table, Severus scowled.
Beside him, Professor Quirrell watched both boys with a smile. "Don't they make a
lovely couple?" He asked Severus.
Severus, who had just taken a sip of his coffee, spit it back out again. His eyes
narrowed into slits. "They are not, absolutely not, a couple, Quirinus. Is that
understood?"
"Well not now. But in a few years, maybe?"
"No." Snape said harshly. "Never." He turned to glare in Harry's direction.
The brunette, who could tell by the disgusted look on his professor's face that they
were talking about him, leant purposely over to hug Draco.
"I'm so glad we're friends."
Draco hugged him back. "Well of course you are," the blond said pompously, "I am

fabulous after all."

As if he could hear what Harry had said, Snape's eyebrow gave a twitch, and his
glare hardened.
"I still think they'd make a nice-" Quirrell insisted.
"No!"
XXX
1 " I'm following the outline of my school timetable, way back when, when I was
Harry's age and in school in England. So long ago now... Uni sucks!
2 " Hedwig is actually the patron saint of Orphans. Shock, horror.
3 " Giggle... Edos is the god of Fertility. Either Roman or Greek can't remember
sorry. He has a very big penis; it's about twice the size of his whole body. Draco
should take it as a compliment.
4 " Titania is the name of the Fairy Queen from "A Midsummer's Night Dream".
'They' refer to faeries, who usually steal children away, and live under hills or in
forests. Meave is another name associated with fairy queens. Bet no one guessed it
was Evan, being clever and secretive?
* * *
Thanks for reading. Please review.
Sigh, uni just started up again, and my internet is randomly not loading pages even
though it tells me I have a connection! So I will write chapters and never upload
them, apparently.

Chapter 15
Here is the next chapter. Sorry, still no updates for Brothers in Arms or Black
Complication, sorry. But I do have FOUR chapters planned out so far for New
Divide. If I can finish planning, I can start writing chapters and then you'll all have a
new LV/HP fiction to read...
This would have been up Sunday, but Supernatural distracted me. On the plus side,
I have an idea for the Soul Music/Soul Mates sequel. This would have been up
Monday, but I got called into work, after asking for the day off already. She guilted
me into going in anyway...
* * *
Words: 3,982
Chapter 15
September 4th 1991. Hogwarts. The Forbidden Forest.
Evan watched him silently. Harry was usually quite graceful, but apparently the roots
of the trees in the Forbidden Forest seemed to have it out for him. It was after the
third time that Evan saw him fall that Harry noticed him there. Green eyes met
brown, and a scowl settled on Harry's mouth.
"Well thanks for the help," he drawled sarcastically.
"Anytime." Evan smirked. He waved his wand, and the roots that still lay in Harry's
path all sank back into the ground. It was the new moon of the month. It was pitch
black without the moon or any stars, and Harry could barely see a foot in front of
himself. He'd given up on maintaining a 'Lumos', since every time he fell over, it
extinguished itself anyway.
"I've missed you," Harry said softly. A moment later he was pressing himself tightly to
Evan's chest. The Death Eater's arms came around him, squeezing him tightly, and
a soft kiss was pressed to the top of his head.
"It's been a week, and yet it felt like eternity. Time surely does fly, Caen." Evan
mused, his arms still holding his son.
"I thought that only happened when you were having fun?" Harry pulled back a little,
and Evan taking the hint let him go completely. They stood facing each other, a soft
smile on Harry's face, but Evan's was blank.

"I'm this close to grabbing you and making a run for it." A hand came up to cup
Harry's cheek. The child frowned, then placed his hand over Evan's.
Evan wasn't usually a very sentimental guy, nor was he one to talk about his feelings
often. So Harry did what he always did when even was having a 'chick-flick moment'.
He ignored it. "How'd you get here anyway?"
"I apparated to Hogsmeade and flew the rest of the way. My wings are very tired," he
trailed off slowly. Harry had to chuckle at his tone of voice and the way he dragged
the words out for at least three seconds each. "How did you get here?" He asked, a
grin finding its way back onto his face.
"I followed the yellow brick road." Harry said with a straight face. If Evan had been
stupid, he might have believed Harry was being serious.
Remembering the way Harry had stumbled and tripped and fallen, all in the time
where Evan could see him, and undoubtedly during the time Evan couldn't either, the
Wizard snorted and said, "more like the road less travelled by."
"And that made all the difference," Harry agreed, while giggling. "I wanted to ask you
something." He said, turning serious. There was no point asking why Evan had
asked to meet him. Harry knew it was because he had been missed, but he also
knew Evan well enough to know that Evan would either admit and change the
subject, or lie and say he came for a different reason. Harry knew Evan had missed
him. Whether Evan said it or not didn't matter.
"Oh? About the lovely Miss. Granger? Well I'm afraid you don't have my permission
to marry her. You'll have to elope to Gretna Green, my boy." Evan steepled his
fingers beneath his chin and peered at Harry through fluttering lashes.
"It's a good thing I'm already in Scotland," Harry drawled.
"I see you've given this some thought. Be made aware," Evan continued to tease his
child, "that if I hear a word about you taking the lady away and not marrying her, well,
you'll be worse for wear, chap. The virtue of a lady must never be in question. For
once lost, you'll never get it back."
"Ok that's enough Jane Austen-esque. Can we get back to what I wanted to ask?"
Evan gave a chuckle, but he nodded his head. "Was Theaodore Nott a Death
Eater?"
Evan's head jerked to the side when he heard the name. "Yes," he said, but he didn't
turn to look at Harry. "Why?"

"I wanted to know about his sons. Evan, are you ok?"
Rosier grabbed Harry's arm, pulling the boy with him towards a large tree that had
been a little way behind them. One of its branches was low enough and thick enough
to sit on. Evan lifted Harry slightly, and the boy wiggled his way into a comfortable
position on the branch and waited. The Death Eater leant against the trunk of the
tree and folded his arms across his chest. "Why do you want to know about the
Notts?"
"The youngest is in my year. Draco and the others, well they aren't very nice to him,
even though he is in Slytherin. Why is that?" Harry was genuinely curious. Theodore
hadn't really done anything wrong as far as Harry could see; yet the others were
almost unbearably cruel to him. He was treated the same as Harry supposed the
Gryffindors would have treated Draco had the blond been in their House (as unlikely
as that would be). How would Theodore have been a traitor? He wouldn't have been
old enough to have betrayed the Dark Lord.
Evan sighed. "It was a long time ago, Caen. Theaodore Nott was never a nice man,
and," Evan was interrupted by Harry, who gave a snort of laughter, "ok, I'm not a
very nice man, but you know I would never hurt you?"
"I know."
"Theodore and Terrance do not have that assurance. He wasn't always so bad, I
suppose. I was never close to him, never spent much time with any of the others to
be perfectly honest. I much preferred to spend my time annoying Bellatrix or trading
banter with my Lord. There was a time, when Theaodore's loyalties were tested and
he failed that test. The Ministry kidnapped his wife, and the Dark Lord refused to
rescue her because he knew it was a trap. The Ministry had proof that Theaodore
was a Death Eater, and they hoped that by taking his wife, they'd have the chance to
ambush the others that came to her rescue."
Evan trailed off, running a hand over his face. With a sigh, he continued. "Theaodore
wasn't happy with our Lord's decision. He went to the Order, begged them to save
his wife in exchange for information about our side. He was inducted into the Order
of the Phoenix, a group of misfits led by Dumbledore in the hopes of driving back the
forces of darkness."
"And stealing from the rich to give to the poor?" Harry quipped, watching the way
Evan kept clenching and unclenching his hands until his knuckles were bone white.
The brunette gave a chuckle. "They believe they are righteous. And we believe we
are right. But who is wrong?" He waved his hand, brushing off whatever answer

Harry might have given, and got back to the topic they had been discussing. "After
Theaodore's induction, he led the Order to Voldemort's safe house. Many of our
side, not even fighters, just wives and children and the elderly, those who had no
choice but to hide because maybe a son or daughter or grandchild joined the Dark
Lord, many were killed. While this was happening, Voldemort had relented, and he,
another called Mason and myself went to the Ministry to rescue the Mrs. Nott. We
managed to return her body. When Theaodore realised she had been killed, and that
the Order hadn't saved her, he begged the Dark Lord for forgiveness."
"And because he is a merciful Lord, he forgave." Harry whispered. His face was
pale, and briefly he wondered if Theodore had ever been told why his father was
considered a traitor.
"Yes, he did. But Theaodore was evicted from the Inner Circle, delegated to mainly
grunt work, meaningless raids and the such. He drank a lot more, or so I was told.
The boys were very young at this point. Terrance would have been 2, and Theodore
merely a baby, not much older than you and you would have just been born around
then. I'd wager that the elder boy got the brunt of his father's anger."
Harry jumped down off of the branch. He wrapped an arm lightly around Evan's
waist, inviting the man to hug him closer, which he did. "That's horrible. But it's not
really Theo's fault, is it! The others should be a little nicer to him."
"What is with the sudden interest, my child?"
"He reminds me of me," Harry said softly, scuffing his shoes in the dirt. "He seems
so resigned to being hated, and to never having friends. It isn't fair. I have you now,
and Draco and Lucius. He should have someone." Harry stared at the floor sadly.
Evan grabbed Harry's chin, and lifted his face up. "I believe he has you. If you wish
to befriend the boy, by all means, do so. He is a Pureblood. Just because his father
made a grave mistake, does not mean he will." Evan pulled something out of his
pocket and unrolled it. A chuckle escaped him. "This arrived for Lucius. Draco sent it.
Lucius thought it would amuse me to read, though he was not so impressed. Shall I
read you some?"
"Ok, sure." Harry gave the letter a confused glance. "Why not."
"You'll never guess what father. You will not guess, so I will inform you immediately.
Harry has a crush. He could possibly have a boyfriend by the time you reply, I am in
no doubts. He seems quite taken with Theodore Nott, you know, the traitor's son.
Calls him 'Theo' and everything, and they've partnered up in Potions. And Nott
stares at Harry all of the time, I don't like it, father. But I suppose Harry does, so I'll

leave it alone. Well, obviously I'll tease him terribly. Perhaps you should buy me a
camera for Yule and then I can take embarrassing photos of Harry and Nott
together?" Evan stopped reading, smiling at the flush that had inflamed Harry's face.
"What embarrassing things could a pair of eleven-year-olds be getting up to, I
wonder?"
"I don't fancy Theo." Evan raised an eyebrow. "-dore."
"So it is Miss. Granger who will win your heart? Perhaps, as you age, Theo, dear
Theo, might be in with a fighting chance?" A slow smirk worked its way across
Rosier's mouth. "Or maybe... it will be Draco who sweeps you off your feet?"
Harry thought of Lucius, who looked so much like Draco, with those grey eyes and
the soft blond hair, and he smiled. And then he thought of Draco. Draco who looked
so much like Lucius, but who wasn't. Draco who was his friend. His first friend his
age, his only real friend his age, and he tried to imagine kissing Draco. "NO! That
would be so wrong. No, Evan, gross!" Then he thought about kissing Lucius, and his
heart beat faster. Harry frowned. Did that mean he wanted to kiss Lucius, or did it
mean it was also wrong, but not 'gross' wrong because Evan hadn't been implying
that?
Relationships were confusing, Harry decided. There was a reason people waited
until they grew up.
"Look, I don't have a crush on Granger, or Nott, and I will never have one on Draco."
"Never say never, my Caterpillar." A hand came forward, brushing back the fringe
from Harry's eyes. "Whoever wins you will be very lucky indeed. But you have years
yet until you need make a decision. Who knows, it may be the Dark Lord himself
who claims you."
The look on Harry's face was priceless. Wide eyed and with his mouth open, he
turned to stare at Evan. The man laughed, softly at first, but then louder and bolder
until he was clutching at his stomach, completely overtaken by mirth. The sight of
Evan so out-of-character shocked Harry a second time.
"Lord Voldemort has no interest in taking a lover. He is above such menial pursuits."
Evan drawled after he had calmed down.
"A man after your own heart then?" Evan glowered. "Hey, if you can tease me, I can
tease you. Does little Evan have a crush on the big bad Dark Lord? Oh I bet he
does." Harry cooed.

Evan's hand clipped him lightly on the side of the head. "If you have nothing else to
pester me with, may I suggest we enjoy our remaining time together in blessed
silence?"
Evan slid down the trunk of the tree until he was sat on an exposed root at its base.
Harry curled up in his lap. In the dark, they stayed like that, not moving until the sun
began to rise. "Here." Evan said, handing Harry a potions vial. "Pepper up," he told
him. "It should keep you going until lunch."
"You're a bad influence on me. Most parents give their kids a bedtime. You keep
yours up all night." Harry groused, before downing the potion in one mouthful.
Evan hummed lightly. He pressed a light kiss to the top of Harry's head, just a bare
brush of lips against hair, and when Harry looked up, he was gone. A green-andbrown butterfly hovered in front of his face. Harry reached up to brush the tip of his
little finger against Evan's wings, and then the butterfly flew away.
With a smile on his face, Harry made his way out of the Forbidden Forest.
XXX
September 12th 1991. Hogwarts.
Flying lessons were starting that afternoon, and unfortunately Ravenclaws were
paired with the Gryffindors. Harry was convinced that Dumbledore was out to get
him personally, because he had been assured by every Slytherin he knew that he
could avoid both Ron and Granger because for every other year previous the
Gryffindors had been paired with Slytherins. It was either an unfortunate
coincidence that this year was the year they decided to change that practise, or a
conspiracy.
"Hello Harry," Hermione said softly as she came to stand beside him.
"We're meant to line up, in our Houses. Gryffindors are over there." Harry pointed to
a line of children standing two feet away from him. Not very far, but further away than
Granger was right then. She was practically on top of him, smiling at him with watery
eyes that made him feel extremely guilty for not begging for her friendship, even
though he didn't actually like her.
"You know, it's my birthday on the 19th." Hermione told him. "The Gryffindor ghost,
his name is Sir Nicholas, well he suggested I have a party. He's invited, of course,
and I was hoping you would come."

Harry was saved from having to answer when Professor Hooch cleared her throat
loudly, "everyone place their hands over their broom, and say 'up'."
"Up," came the calls from all of the students. Harry's broom zipped instantly to his
hand, along with a handful of the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors that he knew to be
Pureblood. Amusingly enough, Ron's shot up like a rake and smacked him in the
face. Hermione's rolled around on the ground, shaking lightly, and the Muggleborn
from his dorm, Cornfoot, was holding his hand against his chest while crying.
"Oh dear." Hooch said, walking over to Stephen. "Looks like you've broken a finger
or two."
"The broom just, just," he gave a soft sob as he spoke, "it just came up and smashed
me in the hand."
"Not to worry, dear. Nothing unusual. Someone broke an arm an hour ago you
know.2 Come on then, I'll take you to Madam Pomfrey." She whiled around,
narrowing her eyes at the rest of her class. "Now the rest of you better behave. I've
already had to deal with two others for showing off on the brooms while I was gone."
"But we didn't even get to mount the brooms!" Ron complained, his face turning a
nasty shade of red.
"When I come back, we can finish our lesson, Mr. Weasley. But for the meantime, try
and have some compassion for a year mate." She strode away, pulling Stephen after
her.
"That big baby ruined our class." Ron muttered. A few of the other Gryffindors
agreed with him, mumbling about how they had been looking forward to flying for a
fortnight and now their class was postponed.
"Oh honestly," Hermione chided, "it isn't the end of the world you know. That boy
could have been killed, and all you are worried about is showing off on a stick?" She
clucked lightly and shook her head. "Honestly, Ronald." She sounded so much like
his mother that Ron blushed, then, catching himself, he shot her a vicious glare.
"Shut your mouth Granger. Filthy little know-it-all, always butting into other people's
business, telling people what to do, how to cast spells, it's a wonder you have no
friends." He sneered at her.
"That's not true!" Hermione said. Her hands were trembling, and she hurriedly placed
them on her hips, trying to hide how his words were affecting her. "I do so have
friends."

"Prove it. Name one," Ron spat, with an ugly sneer on his face.
He was reminding Harry more and more of how Dudley used to be. Hermione looked
around the group. The Ravenclaws stared at her, all of them knowing that they were
not her friends. Her own Housemates turned their faces away, refusing to meet her
pleading glances. Hermione moved towards Harry. "He's my friend," she whispered.
Her eyes were teary, her bottom lip trembling, and Harry could hear the desperation
and hope in the wobble of her voice, but he still turned his face away from her.
Ron chuckled, loudly, clapping his hands together with glee. "See, Granger. No one
wants you here. Why don't you piss off back to the library?" He turned away from
her, nodding in Harry's direction and offering him a small smile. "Hey mate, how are
you?"
Harry's eyes widened. Completely confused he just continued to stare at Ron until
the redhead turned away again, distracted by something else.
Hermione stood sobbing, ignored by half of her year mates. Eventually, Harry
couldn't take any more. "Stop crying!" He shouted, turning to face her for the first
time. Once again, she looked at him, so utterly betrayed and red-faced. He flinched
and lowered his eyes. When he looked back up, Hermione was half way across the
Quidditch pitch, sprinting back towards the school.
"What was that about?" Professor Hooch asked as she hurried back towards them,
without Stephen Cornfoot.
A few of the Ravenclaws looked ready to tell the truth, but before they could, Ron
butted in. "Potter made her cry, ma'am." Weasley turned to Harry and shrugged his
shoulders half apologetically, before looking back to the Professor.
"Well." She frowned. "Detention tonight, Potter."
"Sorry, mate," Ron whispered as the lesson started up again. "Mum would kill me if I
got detention so close to the start of the year."
"Considering I don't have a mother, it must be ok for me then." Harry drawled. Ron's
eyes widened in horror, but before he could say anything, Harry had mounted his
school-designated broom and shot up into the sky.
"Very good, Potter!" Hooch shouted after him. "You should try out for the team next
year!"
Harry watched them all. Most of them only got a foot or so off of the ground, even

Ron who had previously claimed to have engaged in aerial dogfights with Muggle
helicopters. Harry, who was lazily floating around the highest reaching Quaffle hoop,
gave a sigh. It was amusing, he thought, how insignificant everyone looked from up
high. Like ants. All small, and puny, regardless of blood status. All so easily crushed.
And then there was him, the only one of them that could watch them all at the same
time, who could track them, and keep an eye out, the one who was high enough to
protect himself. His eyes narrowed as he caught a glimpse of red hair.
If they tested him, he could crush them.
XXX
When his detention had finished, Harry had expected to head straight back to his
dorm and just collapse into his bed. All of these late nights couldn't be good for him.
Unfortunately for him, when he left Filches office, Theodore Nott was waiting outside.
"It's after curfew." Harry said softly, eyeing the other boy warily. "What do you want?"
"Filch doesn't bother the Slytherins. We receive privileges every time we pass on
information to him about other students."
"You sell your year mates out to Filch, so you can get away with things?" Theo
nodded, a small smirk on his face. "Sneaky. I like it."
"Yes well, I didn't think it up, but I'll pass on your approval. As for what I wanted, well,
I thought maybe we could talk. Or hang out, or I could walk you to your dorm
maybe?" Theo's eyes were the same colour as Evan's, and when Harry caught their
gaze, he couldn't make himself look away. He imagined Evan as a child, around
Theo's age, and wondered what his family life must have been like. "Never mind. I
just thought." He said when Harry didn't reply.
"Look, whatever Draco has said, he's being a prat. I don't fancy you. I like girls!"
Harry insisted. "Actually, I'm too young to like girls either. But I'm sorry, anyway, for
what it's worth."
Theo chuckled, his face turning red. "Actually, Malfoy made it pretty clear to me that
you would never, ever fancy me. So, yeah, we're clear on that score. But I thought
maybe we could be friends?" Harry stayed silent again. "Unless you'd rather have
Granger?"
They both laughed, lightly and softly, and Harry turned to Theo and grinned. "I'd pick
you any day."

"Good." He held out a hand, and while it didn't shake at all, Harry knew he was
nervous. After what Evan had told him, and seeing what he had of Theo's
relationship with his dorm mates, Harry knew that the boy didn't have very many
friends, if any. "Friends?"
Harry took his hand and gave it a firm shake. "Frien- Ah!" He gave a cry. He fell to
the left, crashing into Theodore as the staircase they were on suddenly swung
sideways. "What the hell?" He cursed, looking around wide-eyed. Their staircase
was the only one moving right then, the others were all still. It was rather strange.
Harry didn't he had seen a staircase move on its own before, usually they were all
moving simultaneously. But this was only his second week, so what did he know?
"This is the third floor corridor we're forbidden from being on!" Theo exclaimed. He
was grinning, his eyes darting left and right, checking to see if anyone had noticed
them. "Wanna check it out?"
Harry thought about it. Ravenclaws were studious and curious about knowledge. If
he was caught, he could just say that he had been taking the opportunity to learn
something new. Professor Flitwick liked him very much, so he'd probably get away
with it. And Snape wouldn't let one of his Slytherins be expelled, so Theo was safe.
"Of course I do," Harry said.
Ten minutes later, as they were running back down the stairs and away from the
three-headed-dog that had tried to bite of their heads, Harry wondered if maybe he
should have been in Gryffindor after all. It had been a rather stupid thing to do,
opening a locked and warded door, just to see what was inside. A door that was
locked and warded in a forbidden area of the school as well. No. He was definitely
not Gryffindor material, he decided as he split up with Theodore and headed back to
his dorms.
A Gryffindor would have tried to go inside. Whereas Harry wasn't afraid to simply run
away. Self-preservation as opposed to bravery.
Maybe he should have been a Slytherin?
XXX
1 " "The Road Less Travelled", by Robert Frost.
2 " Obviously not Neville, since he is in Harry's class. But I doubt it would be unusual
to have someone hurt him or herself learning to fly. Let's say it was a Hufflepuff,
since in canon all of the Slytherins were fine flyers.

* * *
I skip weeks at a time, have you noticed? That's because I am using the time line on
HP-Lexicon. Not much really happens in canon, does it, not when you consider that
it's spread out over the space of more than a year. Wow.
Enjoy. And please review.... I want to reach 1000 (at least) before the story ends.

Chapter 16
It took me a week more than it should of, but in my defence I've finally started work
on New Divide and have two chapters completed, and 11 planned out. I'll start
posting sometime before Christmas, lol, if I ever manage to pre-write all of the
chapters.
I don't like this chapter of Butterfly. I think I could have done better, or it could have
turned out better, but since it's already late I shall just give it to you and promise to
do better next time.
* * *
Words: 4,921
Chapter 16
September 27th 1991. Hogwarts.
Quidditch practises had started the week before. Harry had never really been a big
fan of Quidditch, and he had never had much opportunity to fly except for the times
when he had stayed over at Malfoy Manor, so he didn't like flying per se. But it was a
nice, relaxing pastime nonetheless. Quidditch was anything but relaxing.
Theodore was fond of it though.
In the past fortnight, he and Theo had spent a lot of time together, whispering and
inventing conspiracy theories as to why there was a Cerberus of all creatures hiding
inside Hogwarts. So far, the best theory they had involved Snape (who Harry
disliked), Hagrid (who Theodore distained) and both of them blackmailing
Dumbledore. It wasn't very realistic, and Harry couldn't actually fathom Snape and
Hagrid working together for anything, and if Snape was truly close to Dumbledore as
Lucius said he was, then why would Snape want to blackmail the Headmaster?
They had decided to take a well-deserved break, and Theo had demanded they go
outside to watch the practises.
Ravenclaw were flying at the moment. Every time someone made a dive or threw
the Quaffle, or swung their bat, Theo would leap into the air, cheering or shouting
profanities demanding on if he agreed with the movement or not. Harry watched
passively, smiling fondly up at his excited friend, and wishing Draco had decided to
join them. The blond refused to spend time near the 'traitor', and so Harry only really

saw the boy during classes with the Slytherins. And that was only if Draco was
quicker than Theodore to pair up with him.
It upset Harry, who had grown so use to only spending his time with Draco and
Evan, to now spend most of his time without the both of them. But if Draco wanted to
be immature, he could be. Harry had lived half of his life alone, and he was fine
being alone. He had Theodore, so he couldn't really be said to be alone, not like he
was at that Muggle school. If he had to be without Draco, well he loved his friend, his
first real friend, but he wasn't going to curl up and cry at the loss of him. They slept in
separate parts of the castle for Merlin's sake! They hardly saw each other anyway.
Harry would get along just fine without the blond.
"Oh shit, did you see that!" Theo shouted, clapping his hands together. Apparently,
while Harry had been daydreaming, the Slytherin Quidditch team had arrived on the
pitch and tried to force the Ravenclaws to leave. Adam Bradley had just been
punched in the face. Harry winced as he looked down from the stands. The Chaser
had been kind to him, offering him a seat at the Ravenclaw table every morning for
his first week at school. Even now that Harry had made his own friends, the elder
boy still smiled and waved at him whenever they caught each other's eyes.
"That has got to hurt," Harry said sympathetically. "Your House sucks."
Theo grunted in agreement. He was half leaning out over the teachers box where
they were sitting, trying to get a better view of the fight. By now, Adam's friend,
Benjamin had thrown two hexes of his own and the Slytherins had resorted to simply
tackling the other Chaser and pinning him down while Marcus Flint kicked him. The
rest of the Ravenclaw and Slytherin teams joined in, and for a handful of minutes it
was an out and out brawl.
Harry contemplated firing down a hex, something painful but not permanent, just to
snap both sides of out it. But he didn't want to draw attention to Theodore. The
Ravenclaws might not attack him just for being a Slytherin, but they wouldn't defend
him either. He would probably end up on the wrong side of a few of those Slytherin's
wands though, because of the actions of his father when Theo was only a baby.
Harry didn't want to get his friend hurt, so he clenched his hands and kept his wand
firmly in his pocket.
"What in Merlin's name is going on here?" Someone yelled. Harry gasped as
Professor Flitwick, Snape and Madam Hooch appeared on the pitch. Flitwick was
panting softly and Snape was scowling as usual, but Hooch was practically glowing
from righteous indignation. "How dare you all! Fighting like common Muggles, and
on my Quidditch pitch no less. Have you no respect?"

"I would have expected better from you," Snape drawled, his voice low and harsh.
The Slytherins flinched. Snape's eyes drifted to the Ravenclaws, whom Flitwick was
in the process of telling off. "Had I any reason to think there were brains in those
thick heads of yours. How dare you make yourselves look bad? In front of an
audience, no less." His gaze drifted up to Harry and Theo, locking onto the boy's
green eyes, and Harry met his stare unflinchingly, and smiled that terrifying smile
Evan had taught him. Snape dragged his eyes away. "Some example you have set.
Ten points from Slytherin."
Ravenclaw had lost a total of fifty points, and the Charms Professor was insistent
that they leave the pitch and give up the following days practise as punishment.
Severus wasn't going to take away a practise from the Slytherin team, because
honestly they were atrocious players. They had won all of their games for the past
handful of years by brute strength and cheap tricks alone. They needed all the
practise they could get.
"Leave, now."
"But Professor!" Montague tried to plead.
"What part of 'leave' was not understandable?" Snape hissed. "Get off of this pitch,
and get out of my sight. Now." He turned from them, his robes snapping around his
feet as he strode back the way he had come, followed by the other two professors.
The Ravenclaws wondered off glumly, heading back to the broom closet and the
changing rooms. Some of the Slytherins followed their lead, but Montague and Flint
scowled at one another and threw their brooms down onto the ground petulantly.
Marcus bent down to pick up his broom, but suddenly Harry had an idea.
He had been reading ahead in some of his classes. Evan always liked it when Harry
was prepared for class and Harry loved the feeling of getting a spell right on the first
try simply because he had read the theory. There was no better feeling than knowing
something. Evan had tried to teach him some darker spells, like he 'Cruciatus' but
Harry hadn't been able to dreg up the anger necessary to perform it correctly.
He grinned. He thought he might have this one perfected, and so far he hadn't been
able to practise for fear that Hogwarts' wards would pick up on the Dark magic. But
the Quidditch pitch was outside of the wards, and technically off of Hogwarts'
grounds as well.
He raised his wand, pointing it down at Marcus Flint. "Imperio," he hissed under his
breath. From the corner of his eye, Harry notice Theodore's head snap around. Wide

brown eyes stared at his face and then his wand as Harry waited to see if the spell
had worked.
Flint went still, and tense, and he remained half bent over with his hand outstretched
towards the broom.
"Leave it there," Harry whispered. Marcus heard the words, they echoed inside of his
head. The Slytherin stood up and straightened out his robes. "Tell your friend to
leave his broom as well. Go back into the castle." Flint grabbed hold of Montague's
sleeve and began to drag him away from the two brooms. When the Slytherin beater
tried to protest, Flint promised that everything was ok, that the brooms where meant
to stay there, insisted they had to go inside right now. Harry watched them go,
smirking as Montague shouted at his friend for acting crazy, but allowed himself to
be led inside regardless.
"What did you do?" Theo's voice was soft, and his eyes were huge and round when
Harry turned to meet them. He looked like a fawn caught in the bright gaze of some
predator.
"You don't have to be afraid of me." Harry promised him. "In 'Hogwarts: A History' it
says first years cannot join the Quidditch team, as such, first years cannot know the
password to take brooms out of the broom closest unless there is a Professor
present. I thought you might enjoy going for a fly, since you were so focused on their
practise earlier."
Theo gaped at him. "You did this for me?" The boy asked, before throwing Harry a
huge grin. "Whoever gets there first gets the better broom!" He hollered, already
running towards the stairs. Harry followed sedately. He wasn't really interested in
flying, he usually just lay on he broom and let it float him around in the air, but there
was no doubt that Theo would want a practise game of some sort. Harry figured it
would only be fair to let Theo have first pick of the brooms as well, since this was a
treat for him.
When Harry finally reached the ground, Theo was already mounted on a broom,
hovering just a few centimetres in the air. "Come on Harry," he called, waving the
other boy over.
Theo loved to fly, but in all honesty he wasn't very good at it. The simple movement
of raising his hand to wave at Harry was enough to set him off balance, and if not for
the fact that he was so close to he ground, he might have actually wobbled enough
to knock him from the broom.
"Be careful," Harry said softly, as he threw a leg over his own broom. It rose steadily

into the air as soon as he was seated on it. Theo frowned at the ease with which
Harry rode his broomstick. The boy didn't even appear to be trying. Even Draco had
looked like he was paying more attention during the Slytherin flying lessons.
The first time Harry had flown, he had easily outstripped Draco in more than just
speed. The blond had refused to talk to Harry for the rest of the day, claiming that he
had lied about it being his first flying experience so he could make himself look good.
Eventually, Lucius had grown bored of Draco's petulance and calmly explained that
sometimes Wizards were simply 'naturals'. Harry's father had been one. James had
been spectacular on a broom, one of the best Seekers to ever go through Hogwarts,
and if it hadn't been for the war against Voldemort, James might have very easily
gone professional. Draco had accepted that Harry might be a 'natural' flier, but that
was only after Harry had appeased him by promising never to join the Slytherin
Quidditch team when they got to Hogwarts. Draco wanted to be their Seeker!
"Want to play a game?" Theo asked as he wobbled his way into the air.
"What kind of game?" Harry asked. He flew lazy circles around Theodore, keeping
close enough to catch the boy just in case, but far enough away as to not knock him
down by accident.
Theo pulled out a golden ball from his robe pocket. "My brother sent it to me." He
handed the Golden Snitch to Harry, who swept forward and plucked it nimbly.
"Terrance? Does he not go to Hogwarts?" Harry asked softly. Suddenly, he realized
that he had never seen the boy nor had any of the Slytherins ever said anything
about him.
"Our father insisted he be home schooled. I was, well," Theo coughed
uncomfortably. "My father likes my brother more than me, so when my Hogwarts
letter came, father was happy to accept my place here. Terrance has to be home
schooled."
Theo's face was turned away, and he was biting down on his bottom lip. Harry
remembered what Evan had said about Theaodore Nott being a drunk and taking
out the brunt of his anger over his wife's death on his eldest son. When Theo said
their father 'likes' Terrance more than Theodore, Harry didn't think that meant
anything good for the elder boy.
"Oh," he said at last. He twirled the snitch around in his hand before releasing it. He
didn't think it was a good idea to let Theo play a one-on-one Seekers match, but the
boy looked so downtrodden that Harry couldn't bring himself to say no. He'd go slow,
play carefully, and he'd keep an eye out for Theo in case the boy did fall off of his

broom. Broken bones could be fixed, Harry thought. He only had to make sure Theo
didn't break his neck.
Fifteen minutes later, and Theo actually did fall off of his broom. Harry had caught
sight of the snitch seven times since they had started playing, but he wanted to let
Theo win. Finally, finally, Theo had noticed it hovering directly above the ground. He
dived down towards it, and at first Harry thought he was pulling a Wronski Defensive
Feint, but then he also saw the flash of gold against the grass. And he noticed that
Theo was leaning too far forward on the broom, which meant he wouldn't be able to
pull up in time, which meant he was going to hit the ground headfirst and break his
neck.
Harry dived immediately, tilting forward on his broom and speeding towards his
friend.
Theodore seemed to realise he was going to crash as well, because he threw
himself backwards, still six feet from the ground, and fell off of his broom, free falling.
From that height, he wouldn't kill himself. But with the speed he had been going, it
would hurt like hell.
A hand caught him by the scruff of his robes, and suddenly he was rising again.
Harry pulled off the Feint perfectly, and began hauling Theo up onto the broom in
front of him. As Harry steered the broom lower, easing them into a landing, his hand
snapped out grabbing at air without even looking.
Theo dismounted the broom with a shamed smile. "Sorry bout that." He whispered.
"Ruining the game, and all."
"You didn't ruin anything," Harry told him, uncurling the fingers of his left hand. In the
palm of his hand was the snitch. He had caught it as they landed, and he handed it
over to his friend with a smile. "I believe this belongs to you."
Theo took it, a smile blossoming over his face. "You won. I knew you would win." He
paused and scuffed his shoe against the ground. "But it was fun right, wasn't it?" The
eleven-year-old asked hesitantly.
"It was." And Harry, who didn't really like playing Quidditch, said, "we should do it
again."
Before Theodore could say anything else, Harry heard someone calling his name.
He turned to face the direction the voice was coming from. There was a Ravenclaw
sitting in the stands, who had probably been there since the Ravenclaw team and
the Slytherin team stopped fighting and left. Harry tensed, wondering if it were

possible that they noticed him using an Unforgivable Curse.

"Harry!" Roger Davis panted. He was jumping down the benches, rather than taking
the stairs. It was quicker, but the fact that he was running and shouting at the same
time was enough to put anyone out of breath. "Where did you learn to do that?"
Harry shrugged lightly.
"You aren't supposed to be on a broom without a Professor near by!" He scolded.
"How did you get the brooms?"
"Two Slytherins left them behind after you guys fought." Theo piped up, his head
hanging so that he wouldn't accidentally meet the older boy's eyes.
"You could get into a lot of trouble, Harry." Roger warned him gently. "But I think I
have a way to keep you from being expelled."
Harry's eyes had widened at the world 'expelled'. He couldn't be expelled. He
couldn't be! There were so many great things he had planned to do, and he would
never be able to achieve them without a formal education. He supposed he could go
to Durmstrang, but his expulsion would be on his permanent record and who would
hire him then? What would the Dark Lord think? If the man did decide to take him on
as an Heir and a partner, how would he react knowing that someone like Harry,
someone who was smart and had a future of such magnitude waiting, had thrown it
all away to make someone else happy? What sentimental Hufflepuff bullshit. Harry
cursed at himself mentally. The Dark Lord would not be pleased. Evan wouldn't be
pleased! His heart skipped a beat as he thought of how unpleased Lucius would be.
He didn't know why, but the thought of Lucius not liking him anymore hurt more than
the thought of being on the receiving end of Evan Rosier's anger.
"I don't want to be expelled." He said after a moment of silence.
"I know you don't," Roger told him with a sly grin. "And that's why you have to do
what I say."
IXXX/I
September 30th 1991. Hogwarts.
It was the following Monday before all of the arrangements had been made. Harry
had written to Evan, who had undoubtedly shared the news with Lucius, but judging
from the lack of temper tantrums Draco was indulging in, no one had informed the
young blond. Harry swallowed nervously. He had put it off long enough and no he

had to tell his friend.

He made his way towards the Slytherin table. Theo sat on one end, closet to the
teachers and pretty much ignored by everyone, but he sat up straighter and waved
at Harry as the boy walked passed him.
"Hi Draco," Harry said softly.
"Oh, it's you," the boy drawled, turning his head slowly to face his friend. He tried to
appear uninterested, as that annoying Parkinson girl giggled and clung to his arm,
but Harry could see the flush of excitement on his face. And the curiosity that burned
in his eyes. This was the first time Harry had spoken to the blond Malfoy in almost a
week. "What do you want?"
"I need to talk to you. In private," Harry added when Draco made no move to leave
the table.
"What about?" Draco asked, slowly following his friend from the Great Hall.
Just as they reached the doors, a flock of owls appeared overhead. Most everyone's
mail had been delivered that morning, but what Harry was due to receive was rather
a bit bigger than just letters and such. It took seven owls to carry the parcel in
through a window and then over towards Harry. Draco gaped up at the long,
obviously shaped package with shock.
"About that." Harry plucked the wrapped up broomstick from the owls' grasp. They
hooted at him once, and together they dive-bombed the nearest table, which were
the Hufflepuffs, and began helping themselves to some bacon. "Come on then,"
Harry said, taking Draco by the arm and pulling.
It was just Harry's rotten luck that made it possible for Ron Weasley to walk into the
Great Hall just as the two others were trying to leave. His blue eyes landed on the
parcel, immediately guessing what was inside, and he shouted, "Potter! You aren't
allowed to have a broom!"
Whispers started up around the room. Girls giggled and boys predicted that Harry
was going to get expelled. Ron looked murderous and Draco's face wasn't much
different. The blond was eyeing the broom with anger and he snapped grey eyes to
Harry's sheepish face.
"And you couldn't have gotten me one?" The blond demanded.
"Well you aren't on a team," Harry whispered back, trying to defend himself. "And I

didn't buy this!"

"I did." Professor Flitwick had pushed his way into the group of three boys and he
turned to Ron first. "There was absolutely no need for your nosiness or your loudmouth exclamation. Subtlety is the way to go, my boy. Five points from Gryffindor for
ruining a perfectly good surprise. Harry, maybe you should go hide that broomstick.
Nimbus 2000's are rather expensive and we wouldn't want anything to happen to it
before Ravenclaw's first Quidditch match."
"December 14th!" Someone from the Ravenclaw table shouted. Harry didn't
recognize her, but he guessed she was on the team too.
Roger Davis shouted across the hall as well, "against Slytherin!" Usually, this would
have been a bad thing. But this year the Slytherins were having their first match
against Gryffindor in November, so hopefully they would be pretty much all out of
cruelty for the Ravenclaw match. And anyway, this year they had Harry Potter:
youngest Seeker in a century, on the team. Despite the fact that the boy had no
formal training or experience, he had caught every snitch Davis asked him to that
Saturday, and the rest of the senior team were satisfied that Harry simply couldn't
lose.
"Yes, yes," Filius agreed cheerfully, "It should be an interesting match. Now, carry on,
boys." He waved Draco and Harry out of the doors, and with a hand on Ron's
shoulder made sure the redhead couldn't follow.
"What the bloody hell!" Draco hissed angrily.
"It's not my fault! I'm sorry! Don't be mad! I would have told you sooner but I was
sworn to secrecy! I don't even want to be on the team!" Harry spat them out one
after the other, not giving Draco any time to process the words.
"What happened?" Draco asked, a sneer on his face.
"Theo and I were just messing around. He fell, and I caught him, and the Ravenclaw
Captain saw me do the Wronski Feint and he insisted I had to join the team. I would
have been expelled otherwise! He lied to Professor Dumbledore, Draco. He told him
that I was practising under his supervision, but Roger said I had to be on the team or
he'd tell the truth!" Harry whined. He didn't want to be on the team, he hated playing
Quidditch most of the time, but he wanted to be expelled even less.
"That sneak, son of a bitch," Draco cursed. He gave a whistle of appreciation. "He
could have been a Slytherin. Though, when you didn't tell me straight away, I should
have guessed it had something to do with that traitor."

"Draco stop calling him that. It wasn't Theo's fault."

Draco ignored him. They were outside of the Slytherin common room now, and
neither of them thought it would be a good idea to bring the Houses' newest
competitor inside of the snake den, so to speak. Outside of the entrance, Draco
began ripping the paper off of the broom. Harry watched him silently; not at all
bothered that Draco was opening his gift from his Head of House.
"It's a work of art!" The boy breathed out. He had last years newest model, and since
he couldn't play Quidditch till the following year, his father had refused to buy him a
Nimbus 2000. The 2001 model was due next September, and Draco would be
damned if he didn't at least own that one!
"It's alright, I suppose." Harry acquiesced.
"Alright? Alright! It's magnificent. Look at those bristles, see how straight they are?
And the polish on the handle. And look! It's even engraved with the model... and
you're name is on it, Harry!" Draco's hands were running up and down the length of
the broom and Harry's face flushed red as it reminded him of something else he had
seen on late night television once.
He coughed and turned his face away. "Shall I leave you and the broom alone?" He
teased in a pretty good impression of that whats-his-name actor's bedroom voice.
Draco obviously hadn't seen much, if any, late night TV, since he completely missed
the point of Harry's teasing. "It's your broom. Why would I keep it?" He handed the
broom back with a frown.
"Never mind," Harry said, shaking his head. "Look I better go hide this before class
starts. I'll see you in Herbology later." That was the only class the Ravenclaws
shared with the Slytherins, outside of their flying lessons. When Draco was quicker
than Theodore, he got to pair up with Harry.
When Harry entered his common room, his broom held loosely in one hand, he
almost didn't believe his eyes. Immediately, he tightened his grip on the Nimbus
2000, holding it protectively against his chest. Practically every Ravenclaw was
gathered, packing tightly into the common room, and all eyes turned to land on Harry
as the statue stepped aside to let him enter.
"Uh...?" Harry said softly, eyes sweeping around for any possible way to escape the
throng of people and hide his broom, grab his bag, and run.
"CONGRATULATIONS!" they shouted as one. The sound was almost deafening,

and Harry winced, clutching his ear with his free hand. Roger Davis ran over,
pumping his hand enthusiastically.
"That was brilliant. At breakfast. What Weasley did!" He said excitedly. "It was the
perfect way to show off to the Slytherins. We couldn't just come out and tell them,
and it felt a bit cowardly hiding you away after you actually had a decent broom. But
this, that, what happened it was brilliant."
"Uh, look thanks Roger, but I'm going to be late for Transfigurations, and you know
how McGonagall gets." Roger nodded sympathetically, and he even escorted Harry
towards the first year dorm.
Other player on the team reached out to shake his hand or pat him on the back as
he passed. One girl, who was Asian and rather pretty, but very young looking,
scowled at him as he went by her and turned her face away. A red haired girl, who
was obviously her friend, copied her, snubbing Harry as well even though she kept
trying to watch him from the corner of her eyes.
"Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe," Benjamin Chambers told the first year.
"Don't worry about them. Cho was going to be Seeker. She tried out a fortnight ago,
but you're just so much better. We made her reserve, and she isn't very happy with
it." He shrugged his shoulders lightly, giving Harry a wide smile. "Anyway, enjoy
Transfigurations."
Harry was about to walk up the stairs to his dorm, when the meaning of Ben's words
hit him like a tonne of bricks. Benjamin and Roger watched him worriedly. Harry's
back was stiff and he walked up the stairs slowly, his free hand clenched at his side.
He had Transfigurations. With the Gryffindors.
With Ron.
Harry sighed and wondered silently if the two fifth years would bother waiting for him.
If they didn't, he could possibly get away with hiding in his dorm for the duration of
his first class. He really didn't want to deal with the shit Ron was going to try and
pull. No doubt, also, Hermione Granger would want to give her opinion. While she
hadn't bothered him at all since their first flying lesson, she probably wouldn't be able
to help herself now. Once a busybody, always a busybody. If Ron drew attention to it,
Hermione would need to make a comment. She wouldn't be able to help herself.
Harry grabbed his book bag, and made his way back down the stairs. It would be all
right, he thought, as long as those Gryffindors don't land him in detention tonight. He
had a Quidditch practise that evening.

When he got to the bottom of the stairs he was relieved to note that most of the
common room had cleared out, and that neither of the boys who had walked him
over were waiting for him. Unfortunately, Cho Chang was. Harry could tell by the
pinched look on her face that what she wanted to say to him wasn't going to be
pleasant.
"Get it over with," he told her, crossing his arms over his chest impatiently.
Instead of speaking, she reached up and slapped him right across the face. Harry's
head turned to one side with the force of her slap, and he blinked stupidly for a
moment before turning back to face her. She was crying now, fat tears streaming
down her cheeks. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but she beat
him to it.
A wail, worthy of moaning Myrtle, left her throat and then she sobbed loudly. "You are
a horrible boy!" She told him, loudly. And whoever was left in the common room
turned to look at him.
Harry stormed passed them all. Let them think what they liked, he didn't care. He
wouldn't let the ridiculous conclusions of those pathetic children bother him in the
slightest. He walked silently to the Transfiguration classroom. The rest of his dorm
mates were already inside and so were the Gryffindor first years.
He waited, with his hand on the doorknob, and took a deep breath to calm himself.
He pushed open the door and went inside. Once he was seated, Ron Weasley leant
forward, shouting at him from the desk behind.
"Oi Potter! Care to explain?" His voice was nasally, and it grated on Harry's already
frayed nerves.
He dropped forward, uncaring of who was watching and let his head bang painfully
off of the table. He was having such a bad day. And it was only first period.
By lunchtime, he was sure he'd actually kill someone.
XXX
Chapter 15: In the previous chapter, I had, "'And because he is a merciful Lord,
he forgave.' Harry whispered." written. Only a handful of people got the point,
which was that I was taking the piss out of Canon!GoF and Voldemort's speech
during his resurrection. I wanted to point out to the one person who complained quite
vocally about Voldemort being 'nice'... he isn't nice. He is a bastard. He will kill and
torture people, including Harry and his own followers. But he had a huge ego and

loves himself, and he thinks death is the worst thing imaginable. To Voldemort, not
killing someone is actually being merciful (when in fact most people would rather die
than suffer through Voldemort's torture methods).
* * *
Thank you all for reading. Please leave a review. This is the longest chapter I've
done in a while... and I didn't even get to include Halloween like I had planned to!
Yesterday was 'random acts of kindness day' in Ireland, so I hope all of my Irish
readers were randomly kind to random people! Grin. I was going to hug my boss
(who is dislike intensely) but then I thought he might fire me, and hugged a friend
instead!

Chapter 17
Wow. So far I have 17 chapters, and I'm still only at Halloween of first year? This
story is going to be a lot longer than the original 40 chapters I had planned. On the
plus side, it means I'm going to start time jumping, cause not much really happens
between major events according to the HP-Lexicon, which is good cause Harry will
grow up sooner and, well, wink wink.
* * *
Words: 3,955
Chapter 17
October 12th 1991. Hogwarts.
The moon was full, so perhaps it wasn't the best time to go for a walk through the
Forbidden Forest. But Harry was with Evan, and Evan would never let anything hurt
his child. Once they had gone a certain distance into the forest, Evan had warned
Harry firmly that they were to both stay on the path that had been beaten into the
ground by centuries of use.
"Some creatures out here won't mind our presence," Evan said softly, "and some
will. Stay out of their territories unless the Gamekeeper is with you. The Giant
usually managed to stay safe enough," Evan grumbled.
Harry giggled lightly, ignoring the annoyance in Evan's voice during the mention of
Hagrid. Harry rather liked the man. He was entertaining. He supposed his idea of
entertainment at his age was a bit different to what Evan's would be. The adults
usually thought Hagrid was a magical disgrace, but Harry had enjoyed the time
Hagrid got drunk on Butterbeer and set his hut alight. He had stood, silently, outside
of the hut and watched it burn. It was only when he realised Hagrid was unconscious
inside the burning hut, did Harry cast 'Aguamenti' and put out the flames. His
detention the following night for being caught out after hours had been totally worth
it, especially since it was with Hagrid, and the man was tripping over himself to be
extra kind to Harry when he was told the boy had saved his life. Harry had rather
liked the feeling, and the look of awe on Hagrid's face. He wondered if that was
something like what it felt like to be a Dark Lord?
A rustling in the bushes caught Harry's attention. He snapped his head around, but
only caught a flash of blue before it disappeared into the trees. He frowned, but kept
his tongue. As Evan had said, while they were on the path, so far nothing had

bothered them. A clearing up ahead drew Harry's attention next. There were voices,
lots of different ones, and he could tell Evan had noticed as well by the tightening of
the man's mouth.
"Evan?" He asked tentatively.
"Just walk on, Caen." Rosier told him. "Don't look."
But Harry just had to look, especially when he heard the whispers of his name.
"Oh Evan, look!" Harry suddenly exclaimed, pointing towards a clearing to the right
of the path they were walking. "Centaurs."
The flash of blue that Harry had seen earlier turned out to be the colour of the herd
leaders flank and tail. His torso was pale white, and the hair on his head was blue as
well. His arms folded over his chest, and he shifted sideways, four legs moving
together, until he was blocking the view of most of his herd. They watched from
further away, whispering Harry's name, eyes wide on the Death Eater beside the
boy. The Centaur cocked a finger at Harry, his eyes on Evan watching him warily, but
the Death Eater was still walking.
"Can we go over?" Harry asked. He hesitated, staring towards the Centaurs, but he
wanted Evan's permission. Evan was the one who would have to protect him if
anything went wrong. The least he could do is wait for Evan to agree.
Evan turned to where Harry was looking, and sure enough a herd of Centaurs were
gathered together, watching the humans pass by. "Keep away from them." Evan
warned the child. "They won't appreciate you straying into their territory."
The blue Centaur titled its head in curiosity. He remained silent as the child he had
feared was being hurt by the Death Eater remained unharmed by his side. He turned
away from the humans then, nodding his head at his herd. He had relaxed more, but
some were still tense and wary, still glaring until the humans passed from sight.
Harry gave a scoff, but allowed Evan to push him along the path, away from the
creatures. "They're amazing! I wouldn't hurt them." The child proclaimed, frowning
over his shoulder at the herd that were slowly leaving the clearing.
"I know you wouldn't. But they would hurt you, Caen." Rosier told him.
They walked silently for a while, shoulder brushing and fingers touching lightly with
every other step. "Why?" Harry asked after a while. "I never did anything to them."

"But you're a Wizard, are you not?" The Death Eater gave a chilling grin, his head
turning so that he could look down on his child. "That's all the reason they desire,
love."
"Why though?"
Evan chuckled lightly. Harry's face was scrunched up in confusion, and indignation.
He wanted to make friends with the Centaurs Merlin-damn-it, so why couldn't he?
Why wouldn't the Centaurs like him? He was the Boy-Who-Lived, and a relatively
nice guy: everyone liked him (almost).
"My poor naive Caen," Evan cooed, reaching out to stroke the boy's check lightly. "I
sometimes forget that you are only eleven. A mere child. Fickle, pure and trusting."
Another chuckle escaped his mouth as the boy's eyes narrowed slightly. "But don't
worry, you'll grow out of it."
Evan pressed a kiss to the top of the child's head, before continuing to walk. Harry
rolled his eyes in annoyance. But he followed his father silently.
XXX
October 31st 1991. Hogwarts.
1The month of Samhain was drawing to a close. The Festival feast was already laid
out on the tables before them. The students cluttered around the Hall, grinning
widely behind their paper masks and from beneath their pointed uniform hats. Food
was gathered and placed on to paper plates, and many of the students chose to
walk away from their House tables and sit instead by the burning hearth directly
before the Staff table.
The ceiling of the Great Hall shone brightly with enchanted stars. Every couple of
minutes, a firework would go off outside and the lights would flash through the
windows and across the enchanted ceiling.
Harry watched everything with wide green eyes.
He had been raised by a Wizard, but never in a Magical household. He had no idea
that celebrations could look like this. Every thing was beautiful and bright and Harry
could practically feel the magic thrumming all around him. The veil between the living
and the dead was thin, for that night only, and the ghosts of Hogwarts were much
livelier than usual. They ran (well, floated extra fast) and sang and passed in and out
of various students making the human's shudder and scream. Harry watched it all
with a smile.

Lucius had sent his mask to him the night before. The accompanying letter had been
rather welcome.
Harry had spent a while thinking on the man since Evan's last visit. Evan had taken
Harry's hand and kissed the back of it, like Lucius had always been prone to doing,
and had then told Harry that the blond Lord was thinking always of him. Harry didn't
think he could have blushed harder if he had tried. Which was silly, actually, since
Lucius hadn't even been present. But Harry had truly appreciated the gift. Draco was
wearing a similar one, his face hidden by green gauze and silk, as he spun Pansy
Parkinson around and around the bonfire in circles.
Harry's eyes and forehead were covered complete. The fabric was black satin, and
the holes for his eyes were rimmed in green silk. Green gauze hung down from the
edge of the mask, creating a veil over his nose and mouth, tinting his pale skin the
colour of his eyes.
Originally, the Headmaster had wanted to have a traditional end of term feast. The
Pureblooded children were allowed to go home for the weekend to celebrate
Samhain with their parents and family, while the Muggleborns and Half bloods
enjoyed Halloween at Hogwarts. Harry, as a Half blood, apparently wasn't allowed to
leave the school for Samhain since he lived with Muggles. Incidentally, Lucius
wanted him to enjoy the holiday, as much as Harry wanted to enjoy it.
Lucius and the other eleven members of the Board of Governors had agreed that for
this year they would have a traditional Samhain celebration (damn the Mudbloods
and their Christian ways), and if it worked out well, then they'd do it again next year.
Dumbledore hadn't been happy. After all, he was the one who had gotten rid of the
practise in 1956 when he became Headmaster. But there had been nothing he could
do.
Harry was rather glad of that fact.
It was turning out to be a brilliant night. No one looked to be having a bad time.
There was a group of children bobbing for apples in the corner of the Hall, capturing
their prize in their teeth and offering it to their significant other. Some children were
burning parchment, having written a wish on it, and watching it crumble to ashes in
the flames of the bonfire. Others were hanging out of the windows, or gathering
outside on the grass, to watch Hagrid set off the fireworks.
Theodore was sitting at the table next to Harry. His face was bare, and the light of
the flames flickered over his eyes and made them sparkle. Harry watched him with a
frown, noticing the rabid way Theodore was watching a pink haired girl make her

way towards the Headmaster. He was sitting at the teacher's table, starring intently
at Harry.
"What's the matter?" Harry asked calmly, completely content to ignore the weight of
the Headmaster's gaze.
"Do you know that girl? She's wearing the uniform, but I've never seen her before."
Theo frowned heavily. He was unsure why, but he was very suspicious about her
presence.
"I think we would notice someone with pink hair walking around the school." Harry
narrowed his eyes on her face when she turned to leave the Hall. "Doesn't she look
a little old to still be in Hogwarts?" The two of them watched her go, their eyes locked
on her back.
The moment she was out of the Hall, a stranger ran inside. No one Harry knew, or
asked after the fact, had recognized him. He was tall and bald, with dark coloured
skin, and he accent was heavy but not recognizable.
"Help! Help! There's a troll near the Ravenclaw dormitory!" He shouted. He was
panting and flailing his arms about, but Harry didn't really think he looked all that
scared. His eyes narrowed as the stranger stared over at Dumbledore. Harry turned
to face the Headmaster, just in time to watch the old man nod. At the nod, the
stranger stopped shouting and pretended to faint.
"Everyone calm down!" Dumbledore said loudly. With a wave of his wand the fire
was put out and the decorations disappeared. "Follow your Prefects to your
dormitories and lock yourselves inside. Stay calm. Do not panic. We have every
thing under control."
We have, Harry thought to himself. Not we will have.
"Come on," Harry told Theo, as he grabbed him by the hand. "Something strange is
going on here, and I'm not about to head back to my dorm when that's apparently
where the Troll is. And isn't it odd that a Troll, stupider than the definition, managed
to get inside of Hogwarts all by itself?"
"You think someone let it inside?" Theodore asked quietly, even as he dragged Harry
over to the cluster of Slytherin students making their way to the dungeons.
Draco noticed his presence and grinned widely. A frown settled on his face at the
sight of Theodore though. "Harry! Are you coming with us?"

"Yes." He told the blond, casting a wary look around the hallway before saying more.
"I think they're doing something. I don't know what, but it's some kind of game the
Headmaster is playing. And I don't want to play along."
Draco scowled as Theo reached over to wrap an arm around Harry's shoulders
comfortingly. "It'll be fine. We'll take care of you." The brunette whispered.
"Yeah!" Draco said loudly, bumping Theodore out of the way. "I'm sure father can
have a word with the old fool. There's no way father or I would let anything happen
to you." He purposely didn't include Theo's name.
They were suddenly pushed aside by a crying Hufflepuff. She was a quiet girl who
barely spoke to anyone, but Harry remembered seeing Hermione with her once or
twice.
"Mr. Potter," she stuttered, looking up at him from beneath her fringe. "Have you
seen Hermione? I can't find her anywhere. I have to go to my dorm, and I don't think
she was in the Great Hall, because the last I saw her Weasley made her cry and she
ran off, but that was before the festival started, so she won't know about the Troll!"
When she finally stopped speaking, she took a deep breath, gasping in air as she
fought not to burst into tears. "Please help me?"
Harry wasn't sure if she was genuinely looking for the other girl, or if she had been
sent by Dumbledore to convince Harry to help search and thereby throw him in the
path of the Troll for whatever crazy reason had allowed Dumbledore to set loose a
Troll in a school full of children (probably the same reason that allowed him to hide a
Cerberus on the third floor), but Harry didn't want to risk Hermione's life because of a
suspicion. She wasn't his friend, and he wasn't willing to die for her (or for anyone
except Evan actually), but he didn't think he would be seriously harmed. Dumbledore
had said it was under control, so perhaps he was only testing Harry. To see if the boy
was worthy of being a Gryffindor or some other such nonsense? He could have to
speak to Evan about the old man's manipulative tendencies later, he promised
himself.
"Fine, I'll help you look." He told her and took off running in the direction of the
Ravenclaw dorms. No doubt that was where the Troll would be. If he happened to
find Hermione on the way, it was all well and good, and if not, then at least he'd find
out what the hell Albus Dumbledore wanted him to do.
Draco caught up to him a little while later. The boy was red faced and shaking. "Are
you insane?" He shouted, reaching out to shake Harry's shoulders. "You could be
killed."

"We could be killed," Harry corrected, even though he didn't think that was true.
"There is no 'we'." Draco told him firmly. "I have come to shake sense in to you, and
if that fails, I'll leave you here on your own and mourn for you after you've been
killed!" His voice grew in pitch as he spoke, until eventually he was simply whining at
his friend, filled with terror. "Please don't go looking for the Mudblood. Please just
come back and hide with us?"
"I don't hide. I will not hide." Harry hissed, and his hands clenched at his sides.
There had never been any point hiding from his uncle, so he had never bothered.
And he had no need to hide from Evan. Why would he want to start hiding now, now
that he was supposedly in the safest place in Britain? Only cowards hid. Future Dark
Lords were not cowards.
"Are you coming or not?" He spat out, and turned away before Draco could even
answer.
When Draco caught up next it was just in time to see Harry lock the Troll into a
bathroom. A sudden scream from inside the room had Harry cursing in annoyance,
and he hurriedly undid the locking spell. The door flew open, but the Troll didn't try to
leave. Instead it continued to swing its club at Hermione's head. She screamed
again, ducking beneath a sink and prayed loudly that she wouldn't die.
"Expulso!" Harry screamed waving his wand at the club the Troll was about to bash
Hermione's head in with. The club exploded into pieces. A rather large piece came
flying through the air and would have impaled itself in Draco's head if not for the fact
that someone suddenly tackled him from behind.
The blond looked up in shock, trembling wildly, and blushed red as his eyes met
Theodore's. "Thanks," Draco whispered.
"You're welcome."
Theo stood and hurriedly unsheathed his wand. He joined Harry, casting as many
distracting spells as he could, while Harry tried to drag Hermione out from under her
hideaway. Draco cast a few spells of his own, but Theodore mostly distracted him.
He watched the other boy warily, his eyes narrowed in calculation and he tried to
figure out if he had been wrong about the other boy.
He had saved Draco's life, and he was trying to save Harry's as well. He doesn't act
very much like a traitor, Draco thought.
The Troll suddenly had Harry by the scruff of his neck. He lifted the boy easily from

the ground and flung him sideways with a grunt of anger. Harry's wand clattered to
the ground by Hermione's feet, and the boy slumped to the floor a little way away
from her. With trembling fingers she picked up his wand, and pointed it at him.
"Ennervate," she whispered. She hoped she had gotten the pronunciation correct.
They hadn't covered this spell in class yet, but she had read about it in a fourth
year's textbook.
Harry stirred sluggishly.
Draco and Theodore were backed into a corner, both of them still shooting off spells,
but nothing did much good against the Troll's thick skin unless it was a very Dark
spell. No one dared cast one in front of a Mudblood.
Hermione rolled the wand forward, and Harry reached out slowly to grasp it. He
rolled it in his hands, blinking owlishly at it as if he couldn't remember what to do with
it. Suddenly, he was on his feet. His face burned with the shame of having been
knocked unconscious by a Troll during a "controlled" test. It was mortifying. Surely
nothing like that could ever happen to Lord Voldemort! Why had he allowed it to
happen to himself?
"Accio," he hollered with his wand pointed at the bathroom door. It ripped from its
hinges and flew towards Harry. He ducked out to the way, allowing it to slap off of the
wall behind him and break into two pieces. He pointed his wand at one piece and
cast, "Wingardium Leviosa."
The piece of wood rose into the air. Hurriedly, Hermione copied him and using her
own wand, she charmed the second half of the door to float as well. She flicked her
wand and her weapon flew into the troll's head, knocking it flat onto the ground.
Harry was slightly more sadistic. He manoeuvred his part of the door to hover just
above the stunned Troll's face, before lowering it with more force than necessary.
Harry flicked his wrist up and down, watching with satisfaction as the Troll was
beaten unconscious, every squishing noise and cracking sound brought sent a trill of
satisfaction through the young boy's body.
When the Troll had finally stopped groaning, Harry let the wood fall and ended the
spell. Hermione and Theodore were staring at him with wide eyes. Draco was
watching smugly, having always known what Harry was capable, considering that
Evan and Lucius mostly trained and taught them together. The blond had always
thought of Harry's cruel streak as beautiful, especially since he never got to see it
often.

"What happened here?" Someone gasped.

They all turned to face the horrified faces of Severus, Dumbledore and that pink
haired girl from earlier. It was her who had spoken.
"Oh God!" She cried, her hands covering her mouth. The expletive, using the name
of a Christian god, hinted to the fact that she wasn't a Pureblood. Which made it
more than likely she was working for Dumbledore. "What have you done to Declan?"
"Now my dear," Dumbledore said with a hard look, "that will be enough of that." He
turned to Harry then. Harry, who was spattered in Troll blood, still flushed and
panting with his wand raised and his face bruised from where he had been thrown
into the wall. "Would you care to explain, Mr. Potter?"
"It's my fault!" Hermione interrupted suddenly. For once, Harry welcomed her
presence and the annoying trait she had of butting into other people's conversations.
Her intrusion was welcomed for once. "You see, I heard about the Troll, and I
thought I could stop it. I've been studying spells, you see. And well, the others came
to rescue me, but when Harry dropped his wand, I, I, well, I've heard it's the brother
wand to the one You-Know-Who uses and I wanted to see what it was like. Uh," she
flushed heavily under everyone's disbelieving gazes, "apparently spells don't work
the way I want them to when I use other people's wands."
They turned to look at the completely ruined head of the Troll and then back to face
Hermione.
"I can see that, yes," Dumbledore agreed.
"One hundred points from Gryffindor for risking the lives of others and yourself."
Snape sneered at the look of surprise that crossed Hermione's face. She had been
so thankful to be alive, she had never thought of the consequences of her actions.
She didn't regret lying to protect Harry, because he had come to save her even
though he didn't like her, but now everyone in her House was going to hate her more
than they already did.
"Yes sir," she whispered with a sniffle.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for using another person's wand." Snape added with a
scowl. Harry twirled his wand lightly, considering for a moment casting something
horrible on the man, but then thought better of it. For now, he just wanted to enjoy
what was left of Samhain, go home tomorrow morning, and slip beneath
Dumbledore's radar for a few more months.

"But she saved my life!" Draco shouted indignantly. It was a complete lie, but she
had lied for them already, so that they wouldn't lose House points. It wouldn't be fair
to let her lose that many on her own. He didn't care much about Gryffindor or fair, but
he could see the way that Harry's hand was twitching around his fingers. It meant
the brunette boy definitely had a problem with the way Severus was treating the
other child.
Dumbledore hummed lightly. "Twenty points to Gryffindor for selfless bravery. Very
befitting of your House. I'm taking five points from the rest of you for getting
yourselves in to trouble and not going straight back to your dorms."
"Go to the Hospital wing," Severus hissed, narrowed eyes turning on Dumbledore.
He really didn't like it when Slytherin lost house points.
Once the adults had left them alone in the Infirmary, Harry turned to Hermione and
smiled. "Thank you for your assistance."
"Y-Your welcome, Harry." She blushed softly, smiling back over at him hesitantly from
her own bed. She sat up slowly, propped up on her elbows and whispered, "does
this mean we can be friends now?"
"We'll see." Harry told her. The other two boys were already asleep, and Harry soon
drifted off as well.
Hermione lay back slowly. He hadn't told her no, so it was a good sign. As of late,
Harry had been quite vocal about her leaving him alone. 'We shall see' was as close
to a yes as Hermione thought she was ever going to get. She spent most of the night
simply lying there, watching Harry sleep and smiling to herself.
It would be nice to have a friend.
XXX
1 " In the Celtic calendar, Samhain was actually the name of the month. The File na
Marbh, or Festival of the Dead, is what became later known as Halloween.
Oringinally, the fesitval involved lighting hearths and slaughtering cattle and
gathering crops from the field. It later involved sacrifical aspects, like offering food to
gods, and masking yourselves to keep hidden from the spirits that walked the earth
on that night.
* * *
Le Sigh! College is failing me, and someone is going around saying that "they heard

in passing" that me and another girl were insulting them. Fail, I haven't been in for
the past two days (I have a stomach bug) and honestly the thing I supposedly
"insulted" him over, I actually rather liked, so why would I insult?! God, I hate shit
stirrers.
Anyway, thanks to all who reviewed the past chapter. Reviews make me happy.
Please leave another if you have time. Quidditch match coming up.

Chapter 18
Well this has been a long time coming, hasn't it? I'm so unbelievably busy right now,
but I'm foregoing studying tonight, so that I can update. There's a month until my
exams and I'm stressed out already! (Gibbering insanely in the corner, sobsob).
* * *
Words: 4,156
Chapter 18
December 14th 1991. Hogwarts.
It was the second Quidditch match of the school year. It was the first that Harry had
played in though. He hated playing enough as it was, but playing for fun and playing
for sport were completely separate animals. When he was forced to play because
Draco or Theo wanted him to, he didn't really mind.
But now that he was playing as part of the team, when there were several other
team members expecting him to catch the Snitch, when a quarter of the school was
betting on him to win, and when he was playing against the House his two best
friends were a part of, well, he didn't like it one bit.
In actual fact, Harry felt rather queasy. And he really didn't want to go out onto that
pitch.
But a well-placed shove on his lower back by Roger Davis had him stumbling
forward. He toppled through the doorway, and had to job slightly to stop himself
falling onto the ground. The rest of the players for the Ravenclaw team filed out
behind him, brooms in hand, but Harry clutched his Nimbus 2000 to his chest,
knuckles white with terror.
He had seen how badly the Slytherin Beaters had messed up Gryffindor's Seeker in
last month's game, and Harry had absolutely no desire to end up in the Hospital
Wing with his face rearranged.
He did not want to do this.
Suddenly Madam Hooch was blowing the whistle, and everyone but Harry was
mounting their brooms and taking off into the air. He didn't have a choice (he had
never had a choice, it was this or expulsion), but now he had run out of time to try
and avoid his fate. He swung a leg over his Nimbus and slowly took to the sky.

The match had begun. Now Harry just had to try and catch the Snitch before he was
killed. 1
XXX
December 23rd 1991. Hogwarts Express.
The whistle blew one last time as the Hogwarts Express slowed to a stop. Harry was
ready and waiting with his trunk in his hand by the time the doors eased open. Draco
stood next to him, a smug smile on his face as he followed his friend off of the train
and onto Platform 9 and . Theodore and Hermione watched the boys walk away
with matching frowns.
In the past two months, Harry had learned to tolerate Hermione's presence. He
wouldn't say he liked her, nor did he go out of his way to seek her company, but she
had developed a habit of sitting beside him in class and when he chose to eat at the
Ravenclaw table and Harry just hadn't dissuaded her this time. Theo and Harry were
still good friends, but there were just some things that Theo couldn't know about,
things that Draco did know, and that fact made Draco puff up with self-satisfaction.
Draco had stopped calling Theo a 'traitor' ever since the boy had saved his life, but
he still couldn't quite bring himself to address the other child by name. He wasn't
cruel like he had been before and he didn't let the other Slytherins bully Theodore
anymore, but that didn't stop Draco from dragging Harry away on occasion and
leaving Theo standing forgotten with the Mudblood.
"Boy!" A voice shouted. The noise echoed across the crowded platform, and Harry's
head snapped up as he recognized his uncle's signature way of addressing him.
Vernon Dursley waved a chubby arm above his head, eyes narrowing when Harry
made no move to hurry towards him. By his side, Lucius Malfoy looked inordinately
pleased. He knew how eager Evan was to get back to Number 4 and allow the
Polyjuice Potion to wear off. And Harry knew it too: that's why he usually took his
sweet time when they went out in public together.
"Hello Uncle," the child greeted with a smile. Vernon's hand landed heavily on
Harry's shoulder, and the fingers squeezed lightly in greeting. But he didn't speak.
He was too busy staring at the curious, nosy girl who had walked right up to him and
held out her right hand.
"Hello, my name is Hermione Granger. I'm a friend of Harry's." She ignored the
chuckle Draco let out at the word 'friend', and continued to wait for the fellow Muggle
to shake her hand.

Evan Rosier sneered down at the appendage. "Stop waving that thing in my face
unless you want to lose it." He snarled after a long, uncomfortable moment of
silence. He did hold his hand out to Lucius though, a wide grin stretching across his
mouth at the affronted look on Hermione's face. Lucius shook it, and Harry noticed
the marble that was passed from one man to the other. It was a Portkey. "See you
soon," he told Lucius, offering him and his son a polite nod each.
"Yes," Lucius drawled, his eyes fixed firmly on Harry's pale face. A blush spread
across the child's cheeks as the man took hold of his hand and kissed the back of it
lightly, rubbing his lips sensuously across Harry's knuckles. "I look forward to seeing
you again."
Evan steered Harry away, his hand back on the child's bony shoulder. As they made
their way to the exit to the Muggle train station, Harry's eyes locked with Theo's. The
boy was standing on his own, staring longingly after Draco and Lucius who had
walked together to meet Mrs. Malfoy. His gaze landed on Harry, and the brunette
could see how badly Theo wanted to run after him, or Draco, or even Granger who
had now met up with her own Muggle parents.
A house elf appeared with a 'crack' beside Theo, and disapparated them away
again.
Evan pushed Harry forward, through the wall that acted as a barrier into Platform 9
and . The boy stumbled slightly, but caught his balance after a moment and surged
out of the wall calmly. Evan followed, graceful and composed as always, and began
to lead the way out of Kings Cross. Harry couldn't help but glance behind him, eyes
trying to see through the wall between Platforms 9 and 10, in the hope that he could
comfort Theodore Nott. The boy whose father had sent a House Elf to pick him up
from school after nearly 4 months apart. Harry allowed a small frown to settle on his
lips.
He looked over at the bulky shape of his uncle and cringed. His hand tightened
painfully on Evan's arm, fingers curling into the crease of Evan's elbow. He held on
tightly, even as he sped up his steps to keep on par with Evan's long-legged gait.
If not for Evan, Harry didn't want to think about what his life would be like. Maybe he
would have been the one abandoned at the train station, and not Theo?
XXX
December 24th 1991. Little Whinging.
Harry lay curled against Evan's side, too comfortable to be bothered actually getting

out of bed. They were still sharing Dudley's second bedroom, and though they had
magically enlarged the bed, Harry still found himself waking up most mornings curled
up on Evan's side of the bed. The Death Eater was happy to indulge the boy; in fact
he rather enjoyed the thought that Harry could trust him so unconditionally. And
really, if he had a problem with their sleeping arrangements, what could he do about
it?
He wasn't sleeping with the ungainly other child that resided in the house, and he
couldn't very well send the brat to sleep outside where the neighbours might see. He
did not want to even think about sleeping in the bed " or the room for that matter "
where Vernon and Petunia used to fornicate, regardless of whether he was alone in
the room or not. And since he had full control of Number 4 now, Evan didn't see why
he should have to sleep in the basement any longer. Sleeping with Harry was an
easy way to solve his dilemma, and it was something that had worked thus far for a
number of years.
Sometimes Harry wondered why Evan chose not to share a room with Petunia. After
all, wouldn't that mean sex whenever he wanted it (because Harry didn't doubt that
Evan wouldn't care about a trivial matter like consent), but then he thought about
having sex with Petunia. Then he understood. Actually, Harry had never seen Evan
consider anyone as a potential sexual partner, even though Harry knew Evan had
the 'urges'. He had woken plenty of times to the feeling of something poking against
his thigh or his back, depending on how he was lying, and he found it rather amusing
that Evan would usually disappear to the bathroom for some time afterwards. Harry,
so far, hadn't begun puberty and so he was temporarily spared from Evan returning
the teasing.
"Get up Harry," Evan drawled, his voice muffled by the pillow over his face. "Don't
you have sacrifices to prepare?"
Harry gave a snort, but obediently rolled from the bed. Evan continued to lie there
and Harry allowed him to, feeling charitable that morning and deciding not to force
Evan from the bed with a jet of cold water.
"Don't even think about it," the Death Eater mumbled.
"Completely innocent," Harry murmured as he shuffled from the room, still in his
pyjamas.
Yule is a winter festival that coincides with the Winter Solstice, originally celebrated
by the Germanic people as a form of pagan worship. It had spread to England, long
before the tradition of the Christmas Tree had been brought over by Prince Albert,

and it later became a part of the Christian festival.2 Yule generally began in the last
week of December and carried on until the second week of January, but the main
Yule celebration now took place on December 25th, because of the adoption of the
Julian calendar.
Harry and Evan would be spending the actual Yule festival at Malfoy Manor. Since
their return from Hogwarts, which had taken many of the professors by surprise as
none of them ever thought Harry might want to spend time with his Muggle relatives,
they had been watched by a handful of different people, all of whom Evan insisted
were Order members. Harry recognized the bald, black man and the pink-haired girl,
but they were the only ones he knew. The others left Harry alone, only coming into
sight if Harry ever left the end of Privet Drive. He wasn't even allowed to go to the
park, or the caf where his aunt worked, or to see Mrs. Figg without one of the Order
members following him inconspicuously.
Lucius had the foresight to provide them with a Portkey. If they never left the
property, the Order would have no cause to worry about Harry's whereabouts and if
they Portkeyed from the back garden, then the wards wouldn't be alerted to the use
of magic.
Harry crouched in the back garden; ignoring the hateful looks that Petunia was
shooting him through the kitchen window. He was used to this part of the ritual, the
waiting and hoping, and he was more than used to ignoring Petunia's spiteful
behaviour. The caf was closed for the next week, so Petunia had no option but to
stay at home and ruin everyone else's Christmas cheer.
Yule involved a sacrifice. Generally, it was to three Norse gods, but sometimes Harry
liked to mix it up and add in a few other gods, ones that were closer to home. Lucius
only ever worshiped the ones that could benefit his family in some way, and if he
approved of Harry's suggestions he was happy enough to include that god in the
festival. The sacrifice would be drained of blood, and the blood would be kept for
later in a chalice. The bringer of the sacrifice would be the one to toast the gods, and
while there would only ever be one blood sacrifice, others would gather a harvest or
create a flame and offer those to the gods as well. The first toast was to be drunk to
Odin "for victory and power to the king", the second to the gods Njrr and Freyr "for
good harvests and for peace", and thirdly a beaker was to be drunk to the king
himself and to the memory of departed kinsfolk. Since the Wizarding World had no
King, they generally drank to the health of their Heads of Families. As Harry and
Evan were celebrating with the Malfoys in the Malfoy's home, they would be drinking
to Lucius' health as well.
This year, it was Harry's turn to blood the sacrifice. But first he had to find one.

XXX
December 25th 1991. Malfoy Manor.
A banquet table ran the length of the room. All kinds of different foods were piled on
top of the table, so much of it and so heavy that it made the table appear to bend
inwards as if it were close to buckling. Harry watched wide-eyed as Evan led him
towards the top of the Dining Hall, where the Malfoy family waited. This wasn't the
first time Harry had celebrated Yule traditionally with his friend's family, but each time
seemed to be just as exciting and new as the last year's festival.
The table was pushed up against the far wall, and Evan and Harry used the cleared
area at the back of the room to make their way forward. In the centre of the room
burned a large circular heath, above which some poor House Elf had hung a kettle.
Something within the kettle bubbled and spat as the fire burned, and Harry cringed in
sympathy at the thought of that poor Elf trying to pour the blood into the kettle while
the fire burned below.
Lucius was in the process of painting symbols onto the floor by his feet when Evan
cleared his throat. "Would you like assistance?"
Lucius nodded silently, and handed over a stick of aspergills, the sacrifical twig, and
together they heated the stick and continued to paint the runes on the ground with
ashes.
"Are we ready to start?" Narcissa asked softly. Harry didn't really have much
interaction with Draco's mother. She usually prefered to spend time in France with
her lover, or visit her brother-in-law's distant relatives in Germany, since she didn't
really want to visit them, or Bellatrix, in Azkaban (horrid place that it was). But from
what Harry had seen of her, she was a kind enough woman though she appeared a
little cold outwardly, Harry knew she loved her son " and her husband, in a way. Also,
she was more than aware of the way Lucius acted towards Harry and she had had
the almost exact same conversation with him that Evan had had years ago.
"Yes, I am ready." Harry answered. This year was his show.
Unashamedly, he stripped off his clothes and the moment they touched the floor they
disapeared to the laundry room (or whereever the Elves had deemed to send them).
He took an aspergills twig from Lucius' outstretched hand, trying to ignore the way
the man's gaze travelled across his naked flesh, and lit the end of it by holding it
over a floating candle.
Harry walked towards the hearth. The fire burned brightly, and he leant back away

from the heat and the light of it. With a flick of his wand, the kettle lowered and Harry
waved the twig above the boiling liquid inside. The twig was dropped into the flames,
turning to ashes within seconds, and Harry conjured the beaker towards himself. He
caught the chalice in one hand, and used the wand with his other hand to tilt the
kettle forward and pour half of the blood into the golden cup. He sat the cup gently
down on the ground at Lucius' feet, surrounded by the pale drawings of the runes,
before he returned to the kettle.
Harry turned to Evan, who immediately cast protective charms on his hands, and a
cooling charm on the kettle. With a nod of thanks, Harry reached up to disattach the
kettle from the ceiling. He carried it, still half full with some poor creatures blood,
over to the table filled with food. He singled out the dishes that consisted wholy of
meat, and he poured without hesitation a generous amount of blood on each of
them, as if the liquid were gravy in disguise.
When the kettle was empty, Harry discarded it on the ground and made his way back
towards Lucius. He knelt at the standing man's feet, hiding the runes from view, and
he picked up the chalice and supped from it.
"To Odin," he said after the first mouthful.
"To Njrr and Freyr," he added once he had drunk again.
Harry looked up at Lucius threw his fringe, and blushed as he noticed the intense
way Lucius was looking down at him. Harry drank again, ignoring the way Lucius'
breathing picked up as he watched Harry swallow. "And to Lord Malfoy," the boy
breathed out softly, "to his health, and his happiness, and to his kin." He held the
beaker up and Lucius took hold of it gently, brushing his fingers against the back of
Harry's hands. He took a sip in silence before he passed it to his wife. Narcissa
drank and handed it to Draco, who took a sip and gave it to Evan. Evan handed it
back to Harry after he had swallowed a mouthful.
"We remember those who passed before us." He finished what was left in the
chalice and placed the cup down on the floor. He leant forward; bowing at the Head
of the Family he was temporarily a part of, before pressing a kiss to the ground by
Lucius' foot. "And those that are yet to come." He added softly before he stood up.
"Let us feast." Lucius said warmly, holding out his hand and a plain black robe. As
the chieftain, Harry would not be allowed to dress properly until the ritual was over.
And the ritual only finished when all of the food was gone.
As they ate, every one of them made sure to avoid the meat dishes marinated in
blood. Despite the fact that they could still taste that same blood on their tongues,

they stuck to the vegetables and rice and pastas that were available. The meat was
as much a sacrifice to the gods as the blood had been. It wasn't to be touched by the
humans.
The five of them slept in the dinning room that night, and the night afterwards as
well, thankful for the House Elves who brought them blankets and pillows and (rather
embarrassingly) chamber pots. It took, as was tradition, three full days for them to
finish their feast.
When they were finally allowed to leave the room, Draco demanded that it was high
time he got to open his Christmas presents. It was now the 28th of December, and
the presents had been left under the large and colourfully decorated Christmas tree,
waiting patiently until their owners had finished with their traditions before indulging
in the more modern and Muggle winter celebrations.
Harry opened his presents last.
There were many from his friends and Evan, and Petunia had even gone out of her
way to send him a pair of mismatched socks. Harry rolled his eyes at the gift, but
stuck them on his feet anyway, in too good a mood to let his spiteful Aunt ruin his
holiday. Evan eyes the socks with distain, but considering Harry had spent the last
three days half naked the man held his tongue, figuring that Harry was entitled to
wear two pairs of socks if he wanted to as he was probably cold (despite the fact that
they were both ugly socks that used to belong to Vernon Dursley and had holes in
the heels).
There was one present that Harry didn't know the sender of. He opened it hesitantly,
wary and cautious but trustful of Evan's protective stance over him, wand ready to
cast a 'Protego' if he had to. But there were no curses on the gift, and the silvery
paper opened up easily, melting away from the gift like running butter.
"What is it?" Draco asked impatiently.
Harry slowly lifted the cloak up. It was beautiful, undoubtedly, but Harry doubted it
was something he would ever wear. With a fur collar, and a patchwork of colour,
rather than a plain robe, it was something he had already decided to shove into the
bottom of his trunk. Even if the inside lining of the cloak shimmered curiously.
Lucius gasped, recognizing it immediately. "Put it on," he breathed. "It belonged to
your father."
Harry frowned at the mention of his real parent, but he put on the cloak as instructed.
His parents were dead, and they had been enemies of the person he wanted to be

allies with. He didn't remember his parents, but he was sure they had loved him, and
that was all there was to it. As soon as the cloak was wrapped around his shoulders,
Harry disappeared from the neck down.
"Cool! An invisibility cloak!" Draco gasped, "I want one father!" He added
immediately after.
A piece of parchment lay on the wrapping paper, previously hidden beneath the
cloak. Harry picked it up and read it out loud. "Dear Harry, this once belonged to your
father, and I feel it is time to return it to its true owner. Take good care of it." It wasn't
signed with a name, but Harry had an awful feeling this was another one of
Dumbledore's "controlled Boy-Who-Lived tests". Evan had been furious when he
learnt of the Troll incident, so Harry kept his suspicion to himself.
There was writing on the back of the parchment as well. Harry turned it over and
frowned. "'I give neither knowledge nor truth, and men have wasted away before me,
entranced by what they see. What am I?' I thought you might enjoy the challenge."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't know," he scoffed, "maybe some Narcissus looked into
a pool of water and caught sight of his reflection? Ridiculous."3
Evan allowed a small chuckle to escape his lips. "It might be interesting?" He
suggested, "something to pass the time if you ever quit Quidditch."
"Harry's never quitting," Draco gloated with a wide smirk. "He wouldn't dare." By
unspoken agreement, neither boy had let slip the truth about why Harry was on the
House team. Draco took great amusement in teasing the brunette in front of the
adults, terrifying Harry with the thought that Evan might learn of his near expulsion,
or even that Lucius might. They'd be so disappointed in him! He didn't want to
disappoint either man, his heart clenched painfully at the thought alone.
"Shut up," Harry hissed under his breath. Draco shot him a grin, but thankfully let the
subject drop.
"Perhaps it is time we take our leave?" Evan suggested. He rose fluidly to his feet,
brushing down his robes lightly and moving forward to grab Harry's shoulder.
"Collect your things." He pulled a flask out of his pocket and took a mouthful.
Severus' modified Polyjuice Potion (though Severus did not know the recipient of his
experiment) lasted much longer than the usual hour and didn't taste quite so bad.
Vernon Dursley shrunk Harry's presents and shoved them into his pockets out of the
way. His clothes were enlarged to fit his bulkier frame, and the items easily fit into
the tent-sized pockets.

"Thank you for having us," Harry said softly. He hugged Draco quickly, and nodded
politely at Narcissa. A gasp escaped him as Lucius unexpectedly pulled him into a
hug. Harry bit down on his lower lip to hide another gasp as he felt lips brush against
the edge of his chin and then again at the corner of his mouth as Lucius pulled away.
Evan was watching the blond with a narrow-eyed stare and Narcissa didn't look
much more pleased by the action. But Lucius re-took his seat calmly, as if he hadn't
just kissed an eleven-year-old, and smiled warmly at the flustered Harry. "Goodbye,"
the boy squeaked out.
Evan took hold of his shoulder and activated their return Portkey. Lucius held Harry's
eyes until the boy disappeared from the room with a 'pop'.
That night, Harry slept curled up against Evan's side, his father's invisibility cloak
draped over the blankets, covering his legs. He stirred restlessly, gasping and crying
out soundlessly. His hand rubbed at his forehead, the scar red and raw looking, and
tears escaped his closed eyes.
That night, for the first time since he was very young, Harry dreamt of green light and
his parents' deaths. And when he dreamt of Voldemort, Harry felt afraid.
XXX
1 " Quirrell is NOT possessed by Voldemort. Ergo, Quirrell has no reason to interfere
with the Quidditch match in anyway. I didn't see much point dragging it out, since
whenever someone else does, I tend to skip those paragraphs anyway!
2 " Both traditions were brought over to England from Germany, albeit many, many
years apart from each other. Information about Yule, the Winter Solstice, and the
lunar Germanic calendar can be found at .
3 " Narcissus was turned into a flower (Narcissi) by the gods for being vain. He used
to stare at his own reflection for days at a time. And no, it was the Mirror of Erised
(but I'm sure you all got that)!
* * *
Thanks for reading. Please leave a review. ALSO: my computer went weird, and
kept adding doubles of some letters... for example, "Hhaarry wentt to the sshop". I
tried to catch them all, but if I missed some then I am sorry.
Not including the Quidditch matches, nothing else interesting happens in canon until
April! Wow, so I'll probably have another time jump chapter after next then.

Chapter 19
Sorry for the wait. Sometimes people just forget what they had been meaning to
write... and sometimes their Internet breaks. My Internet has been gone since like
Thursday fortnight ago! The last time that happened, my ISP centre had been struck
by lightening! With all the flooding in Ireland lately, it would just be my luck if the ISP
centre were based in one of the flooded towns that have had their power cut off
indefinitely. Sigh.
Really, really couldn't remember what I had originally planned for this chapter... So it
probably is a crap chapter, but shrug.
GO READ "VOODOO" BY CONSTANTSNOW... Yay for a decent Gambit/Harry
fiction!
* * *
Words: 3,691
Chapter 19
January 5th 1992.
Harry watched them with a smile.
He lay on the grass in the garden, half hidden by the rosebushes. Evan watched him
through the window, hidden underneath Harry's invisibility cloak.
Three Order members stood around outside of Number 4, all of them waiting until
Harry's uncle brought him outside to return him to Hogwarts. They had reported to
Dumbledore that Harry seemed rather happy to be home: he avoided Dudley, he
ignored Petunia, and he spent strange quantities of time with Vernon. His behaviour
was the polar opposite of what Dumbledore had thought it might be. The
Headmaster knew there was no love lost between Petunia and her deceased sister,
and he doubted very much that she would have grown to love Harry either. He had
warned the Order of that fact. The Order members had waited around, keeping an
eye out for Potter and trying to keep the suspicious acting family within view of at
least one of them at all times.
Petunia Dursley had a job! Albus had been rather stunned to learn that small fact
when he had been told. Severus had been rather impressed by the knowledge. He
thought it was about time the lazy spiteful cow stopped relying on her husband for

monetary support.
Dudley Dursley was a bully and a liar, plain and simple. Kingsley had been the one
to follow the boy to school and back for the few days before Christmas break started,
just to make sure that he wasn't telling anyone anything about his 'special' cousin.
The boy was spreading rumours, except they had nothing to do with Harry being
magical. Instead, he seemed to believe that Harry spent the school year at a facility
for the mentally unstable. He took pleasure in shoving the younger children around,
knocking them over and stealing food and money from them.
Kingsley had expected his behaviour to be no different back at Number 4, and he
had been prepared to reveal himself and protect Harry from any harm. But,
strangely, Dudley avoided his cousin like the plague. He cringed whenever Vernon
was in the room, and he outright trembled when Vernon and Harry where together in
the same room as Dudley was. Kingsley couldn't understand the strangeness of the
Muggle family.
The strangest one of all of them, however, had to be Vernon.
Dumbledore had told them all that Vernon Dursley liked everything 'normal' and
hated 'freakish' things. Mudungus Fletcher didn't see why, if that were the case,
Vernon would take to spending the majority of his free time following Harry around
the house, or the town, or simply hiding away together in Harry's bedroom. Tonks
thought that last issue was odd and worrying, but Dung didn't pay it much mind.
Dursley had never shown an inclination towards young boys before, so why should
he start with someone as unnatural as a Wizard?
None of the Order members could quite decide whether the Dursleys were just
weird, or if they were a typically strange Muggle family. Harry was the only one's
whose behaviour made any sense. He didn't like his bully of a cousin, he didn't like
his spiteful aunt, and the only one he did like was his uncle, who actually treated him
well.
Evan of course knew about their thoughts. Their facial expressions were not hard to
read. The only one he had difficulty with was Severus, and even at that, the man's
Occlumency shields were too strong to breech as well. He did know, however, that
Snape took some sort of perverse pleasure in watching Petunia suffering at her lowly
caf job.
It had become a game to them. For the two weeks that Harry had been back at
Privet Drive, Evan had insisted on teaching him something. He gave essays,
questions, theories he wanted Harry to think on, spells to memorise and learn the

wand movements for, and then there were the times Evan wanted to use the Order
members to better train Harry. At first, Harry just had to sneak passed them without
anyone noticing. He had done pretty well, but he had been using the Invisibility
cloak. Evan had made him do it again without the cloak. Harry had also been made
to hex one of them, while sneaking passed, just to see if his 'Disillusionment Charm'
was strong enough. It hadn't been much of a test, seeing as Fletcher was drunk and
half asleep at the time.
This time, Dung, Tonks and Severus were there. Evan wanted to see if Harry could
get to the end of the road without being noticed. The boy had all of his things,
shrunken, in his pockets. Evan had his invisibility cloak, and so it wouldn't be too
difficult to breeze right passed the other Witch and Wizards and meet Harry at the
end of the road.
Harry looked over his shoulder. He knew Evan's gaze was firmly fixed on him. He
took a deep breath, and waved his wand, whispering the words as soft as he
possibly could. He held his breath, hoping that no one had heard him. He shuffled
forward, army crawling, away from the rosebush and over behind the azalea. He
poked his wand through the shrub and flicked it, casting a tripping-hex.
Nymphandora gave a cry and toppled forward, right on top of Dung. Her and
Fletcher fell to the floor with twin groans.
"Stupefy," he cast again, aiming at Dung's head. The man was out cold. He
continued to lie on the ground, even as Tonks scrambled clumsily to her feet.
"Bloody hell, woman," Snape hissed. He narrowed his eyes at her, before turning to
glare at Dung's unconscious body. "What happened?"
"I don't know! I just fell!" The teenager cried, rubbing her elbow with a grimace. It
was going to bruise before the morning. "I think Mudungus pushed me."
Severus rolled his eyes, before bending down to prod Dung with his finger. The man
didn't stir at all.
While the two adults were busy inspecting the fallen Wizard, Harry scuffled forward,
still crawling on his belly, until he was at the end of the Dursley's driveway. A tall oak
tree grew just outside of the gate, and Harry stood slowly, his wand raised and ready
just in case. He hugged the tree, took a deep breath, and shifted until he was in full
view of the Order members. Harry took a deep breath before refreshing his
'Disillusionment Charm' and adding a 'Featherweight Charm' to his shoes. Then he
took off down the street, sprinting as quickly as he could manage it.
No one looked up as he ran, so Harry could only assume that Severus thought it was

a Muggle making noise. Tonks was busy fretting over her swelling elbow, and Dung,
of course, was unconscious.
Harry crouched down behind the rubbish bin. There was a post box next to the bin,
but if he hid behind that he would be in full view of the front window of Number 1.
Mrs. Delaney would be sure to come outside and shout at him, announcing his
presence to the world and the Order of the Phoenix. So he stayed, squatting, behind
the bin.
"Well done," Evan said, as he dropped a hand onto Harry's shoulder. Two seconds
later, Evan pulled him to the side, and together they spun on their heels and
disappeared with a 'crack'. "I am impressed. Or perhaps Snape is growing stupid in
his old age? I didn't not think you would make it passed him."
"Then why did you-?" Harry questioned.
They had arrived outside of Kings Cross. It was busy at that time of the morning, and
Harry had to twist and turn his body to avoid all of the elbows and feet and
briefcases that seemed to coincidentally find his body. Evan had no trouble
navigating the crowds. People seemed to instinctively avoid the man. He wasn't
Polyjuiced: he felt, that if Harry were caught practising magic, it would be hard to
explain why a Muggle like Vernon would be actively encouraging it. Evan had
planned just to turn into a butterfly and fly away. His car was parked one street over,
in the event of such circumstances, so that way Vernon could just drive back on to
the road and pretend he didn't know a thing.
"It was a test, child. It would teach you nothing if I made you do things I knew you
could do. That is the point of testing someone, to see what he or she cannot do, and
then help him or her learn to do it. You did very well." He paused, frowning heavily.
"Would you like me to come through?"
Harry considered it for a moment. He did want Evan to accompany him onto
Platform 9 and , and to be able to wave goodbye to the man out of the train
window like everyone else did. But it wasn't practical, or safe. Having Evan Rosier,
wanted criminal and presumed dead, turn up as himself in a popular Wizarding area
was asking for trouble. Even as the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry would have a snowball's
chance in hell of saving his father from Azkaban.
If Evan had been Polyjuiced it wouldn't have been such a problem. With the influx of
Muggleborns to Hogwarts since Dumbledore became Headmaster in 1956, the
Ministry have had to find a way to allow the non-magical parents onto the platform
and passed the barrier, so that they would be able to see their children safely on the

train in person. It was a simply idea, but ingenious. Most Witches and Wizards (well
all of them, actually) were prone to carrying their wand on them at all times. All a
Muggle had to do was be accompanied by a wand carrying magical person and they
would be able to pass easily through the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10.
If someone saw Vernon Dursley standing beside Lucius Malfoy, the general
assumption would be that the Muggle had followed close enough behind the Wizard
so as to trick the barrier. No one would think too much on it. Plenty of Muggles saw
their children off without consequence. Why should one more be different?
"No. You shouldn't come through." Harry said, softly. He leant forward, allowing Evan
to tug him closer, and his arms wrapped tightly around the elder man for a moment
and squeezed. "I'll see you for Imbolc though, right?"
"No. Albus doesn't allow holidays other than Christmas, Easter, and the summer
period." His usual drawling voice had turned into a whine, and Harry smiled at the
frown that graced Evan's face as he mentioned the Muggle holidays. "If you ask me,
it's pathetic. The Mudbloods are ruining our world."
A sudden gasp from beside them had both dark haired Wizard's heads turning to
look. A family of four hovered beside them, and Harry recognized one of them as
Stephen Cornfoot. Stephen was the only Muggleborn Ravenclaw in Harry's year.
The blond boy was lazy, and unmotivated, and he didn't do very well in class in
comparison with the other Ravenclaws (but he was naturally smart enough to do
better than most of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs in their year). He and Harry didn't
get on very well. On their first day of school, Stephen had refused to wake up and
attend breakfast promptly on time, and so Harry had hexed him. Stephen had spent
his first two classes in the Infirmary.
"Oh look who it is," Harry drawled, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "It's nice
to know you aren't always late for everything. And look! You even managed to dress
somewhat decently this morning. Makes a change from every other day of the year,
doesn't it, Cornfoot?" Harry's nose wrinkled in disgust. He was obviously being
sarcastic, because Stephen's clothes were rumpled and his shirt was untucked and
half buttoned, and his shoes were scuffed and flecked with mud.
"I was in a rush this morning, Potter." The other boy grumbled, a blush on his
cheeks.
Another grin crossed Harry's face. "Overslept again, did we? Surprise, surprise." He
turned his back on his year mate, and nodded politely to Evan. "Goodbye," he said
softly, trying to keep his voice toneless. It wouldn't do for Cornfoot to realise that

Harry was friends with a Pureblood, Mudblood hating, Wizard. He walked away
without a response from Evan, and strode confidently through the barrier, his head
held high.
Evan watched him silently. When Harry was completely out of site, he glanced once
at the Muggles, and then disapparated, uncaring of who might see him. When his
Lord returned, the Muggles would be made to know of them anyway.
And then the Muggles would know their real place in the world.
XXX
February 2nd 1992.
Imbolc is one of the four principle festivals of the Gaelic calendar. Most commonly it
is celebrated on February 2, falling halfway between the Winter Solstice and the
Spring Equinox. Originally dedicated to the goddess Brigid, with the infestation of the
Christian period, it was changed into St Brigid's Day. Imbolc is a festival of the hearth
and home, and a celebration of the lengthening days and the early signs of spring.
Celebrations often involved hearthfires, special foods, divination or simply watching
for omens, a great deal of candles, and perhaps an outdoor bonfire if the weather
permits it.
Considering it was a festival that was intended to bless the home, it was meant to be
spent with ones family. But Dumbledore no longer allowed student to go home for
Imbolc. There would be no reason to send the Mudbloods home, and it wouldn't look
right to be discriminating against them by making only them remain at Hogwarts for
that Sunday.
Harry didn't really mind. He was more than capable of convincing Draco and Theo to
light candles for each of their immediate family members, and say the bless prayers
along with him. When curfew was set to begin the night before, Harry had gathered
the ashes from the fireplace and smeared them across the headboard of his bed,
trusting Theo and Draco to do the same, and then left out his invisibility cloak,
draped over the door to his dormitory.
It was believed that Brigid walked the earth on Imbolc's Eve, and blessed those
articles of clothing left in her path. If the ashes or fires that were lit outside of the
homes had been disturbed, then Brigid had been there and blessed that home. The
articles of clothing left outside were considered to have healing powers.
Ever since Harry had been given the cloak, he had been having nightmares. No one
seemed to know why, because he had never dreamt of his parent's deaths, or of

Voldemort, since Evan had come to live with him. Lucius thought it might have been
because of the Dark Mark, and Harry's curse scar, the Horcrux inside of him, was
attracted to the Mark, recognizing it as part of itself and feeling safer for its presence.
With Harry now spending so much time away from Evan, and with his Light father's
cloak, which had been in Dumbledore's possession for an inestimable amount of
time, Dumbledore having done who-knows-what to it before giving it back, perhaps
Voldemort's Horcrux was feeling threatened? Lucius had insisted, quite amused by
his theory, that the Horcrux was trying to remind Harry who he belonged to and what
side he was on.
Harry wasn't a fan of nightmares. Who was?
He didn't like being reminded nightly about who had killed his parents, and about
how he was thinking, planning, to join that same man. Nor did he like to consider the
idea that Voldemort's soul piece considered Harry as an object that already
belonged to them. Harry hadn't picked sides yet. He still wasn't sure how Voldemort
felt on the matter!
Harry had hidden the cloak, ignored it unless if was useful, but when Imbolc's Eve
passed by, he could resist leaving it out in the hopes that it would be blessed.
Blessed items were meant to contain healing powers for the following year. Perhaps,
it would heal him from his nightmares?
It was a nice thought but, since he wasn't entirely sure that nightmares were a form
of illness Brigid was capable of healing, he didn't quite want to risk going to sleep
early. If he had a nightmare and woke up, the chances were he wouldn't get back to
sleep again that night. But if he waited until later, until he was physically so tired that
he couldn't stand, there was usually less chance of him dreaming.
Harry had the cloak thrown over him as he wondered through the hallways of
Hogwarts. The note that Dumbledore had sent him, along with the cloak, was
clutched tightly in one hand. He had spent his last handful of sleepless early morning
hidden in the library, studying, trying to make Evan proud and figure out the riddle. At
the bottom of the page, Harry had wrote, 'Mirror of Erised'. Now all he had to do was
find it.
Harry stumbled across it quite by accident five minutes later. He had ducked into a
corridor to avoid Mr Filch and his horrid cat, and when Mrs. Norris had come after
him, Harry had ducked through the only door in that hallway.
The Mirror stood in the centre of the room, and apart from it, the room was empty.
Harry walked towards it slowly, allowing the cloak to slide from his shoulders and

pool on the ground behind him. His fingers reached forward to trace the letters
engraved on the top of the mirror, and in his head he translated it, before repeating it
out loud.
"I show not your face, but your heart's desire." He bit his bottom lip, before moving to
stand directly in front of the full-length mirror. His reflection stared back. "What is it I
desire?"
Lucius appeared behind him, and Harry chuckled softly. He reached out to trace
Lucius' face on the surface of the mirror, surprised to note that apparently his heart
desired the blond Wizard.
"So this is the Mirror of Erised," someone said. The voice was familiar, and despite
the fact that Harry hadn't realized someone was in the room with him he didn't jump.
Instead, he turned slowly to face Lucius, a small smirk on his face. "What did you
see?" Lucius asked, as he turned Harry around to look back into the mirror.
Their bodies were pressed against each other's, Lucius bending down slightly to rest
his chin on the top of Harry's head. "I see me, and you, and the wall behind us.
Exactly as we are." The child pulled away from Lucius' touch. "What does that
mean?"
Lucius chuckled lightly. "It means you are content, and that you desire nothing. It
may change in the future, or it may not. But at this time, you are happy with your
life."
"How did you find me?" Harry turned around so he was facing his friend's father.
"I came to spend the evening of Imbolc with my son, but I am told he is asleep. I
used a 'Point Me Spell' to find you, since you were not in your dormitory."
"You'll have to teach me that spell." Harry whispered, offering a soft smile.
"They teach it in later years at Hogwarts. But if you do not wish to wait, I'm sure I
could be persuaded to instruct you." A pale hand shot forward, brushing back Harry's
fringe, before allowing its fingers to run down a flushed cheek. Grey eyes drank in
the look of surprise and pleasure on Harry's face, the blush on his cheeks and the
way the child's eyes fluttered shut. "I would be happy to, in fact."
"What do you want from me?" Harry breathed out softly, his chest rising and falling
faster than it should have been. His hands trembled as he backed away, knocking
lightly into the Mirror.

"Right now? Nothing, but that may change in time. Actually, I assure you, it will
change, and I will want as much as you will give me. Surely you have noticed that I
care for you?" Lucius had a smirk on his lips, and he raised one eyebrow in a silent
question, as Harry blushed darker. "Do you care for me?"
"I am interested by you. The thought of you not liking me, or being disappointed in
me, hurts my heart. It's like with Evan, but not the same, not in the same way. I want
him to be proud of me, but I want you to like me. Does that make sense?" Harry
blinked his eyes, frowning and trying to make sense of his own thoughts.
Lucius longed to tell him, to explain to Harry, that what he was saying sounded like
the beginnings of a crush. That it was as if Harry was finally learning to differentiate
familial love from romantic love. But he had promised Evan and Narcissa to let Harry
realise things for himself, and then to let Harry approach him if that was what the
child desired. Instead, Lucius reached out to cup Harry's cheek again.
"I understand perfectly." He pressed a light kiss to Harry's chin, crouching down so
that he could hold his lips comfortably in that place for a full minute before drawing
his mouth away. "And you will too, in time."
"What do you think I'd see, Lucius, if my heart does decide to change?" Harry
wondered.
Lucius took him by the elbow and begun steering him towards the door. Harry
glanced back at the Mirror, just in time to see his reflection throw something round in
the air and catch it quickly again. The colour red flashed through Harry's mind, the
light refracting off of the glass and the hidden object, and the boy suddenly knew
whatever secret the Mirror was hiding was an important one.
But it was also something he was sure he wanted nothing to do with. So, he said
nothing, and let Lucius lead him away.
XXX
A/N: If anyone is wondering. Tonks is 18 years old, and has actually just finished her
final year at Hogwarts, while Harry is in his first. Tonks was a Hufflepuff. It takes 3
years of training to qualify as an Auror, so right now, she's helping Dumbledore
scheme because she isn't inducted into the Order until she qualifies either.
GLARE EPIC GLARE! My power just went, and even though I saved beforehand, I
still lost like 500 words! Word Recovery is rubbish! And I've also lost the notebook I
had with all of my Quidditch notations in, so, yeah, no more Quidditch teams?

* * *
Wow! Don't you love it when someone PM's you or Review Replies with "OMG, it's
you? Blah blah blah!" Seriously... my ego is swelling (more so than usual). I'm afraid
I'll no longer be able to fit it down the rabbit hole!!

Chapter 20
Ok so the exams are over! Three went well, one went shit (so let's not talk about it),
and I couldn't think of a decent clue-rhyme-riddle to use in this chapter, but oh well.
On the plus side, YEAR ONE IS OVER! And I know what I'm doing for Year Two!
Please enjoy. And Reviews are Angel Food! :)
* * *
Words: 4,031
Chapter 20
March 27th 1992.
It was Slytherin's last Quidditch match of the year. Despite the fact that they were
playing Hufflepuff, and were practically guaranteed an easy victory, Draco, Theo and
every other Slytherin in the school had gone to watch the match. The Slytherin
seeker was refusing to chase the Snitch, content to simply keep Hufflepuff's seeker
out of reach, and watch as his team scored Quaffle after Quaffle. When the score
was 260-20 Harry decided to leave.
It was quite embarrassing. As a Quidditch fan, he couldn't help but be disappointed
by the Hufflepuff team. The too easy win for Slytherin made the game rather boring
and pointless, and he didn't take much pleasure in watching the Hufflepuff's cringe
and wince either. His friends cheered and booed and laughing loudly, but Harry had
watched the game with a blank face, rolling his eyes with every goal and sighing in
disappointment whenever Slytherin fouled.
The others noticed him get up, but they didn't try and stop him. Draco was rather
engrossed in the game, and Harry was rather surprised that the boy had noticed him
leaving in the first place. He returned Draco's nod, and waved away Theo's offer to
go with him, and left.
He didn't know why, but once he was back inside of the castle, he found himself
heading towards the Mirror of Erised. Harry knew that whatever Dumbledore wanted
from him had something to do with the Mirror being there, but he couldn't help
himself. He had always been a curious child, and here was an opportunity for
learning. There was nothing more that Harry wanted, other than a family who loved
him, than knowledge. Nearly everyone he knew lived his or her lives by the adage
that 'knowledge is power'. Despite the fact that 'power corrupts', people still sought to

attain it. Wealth, fame, notoriety: everyone wanted it. Wanted it all. But most people
never achieved it.
It wasn't about that for Harry.
Harry supposed he had a little in common with Lord Voldemort. Both wanted
knowledge, both wanted to know, and both would go to lengths to learn. But while
Voldemort was ignorant and needed to learn, he also enjoyed it. Harry needed to
learn too, but not to fit in, not to convince people that he was one of them "
Pureblooded. If Voldemort did not accept Harry among his ranks, did not welcome
Harry with open arms like Evan assured him he would, then Harry would need to
know how to defend himself, for surely the only other option would be to die? He
refused to lie back and let Voldemort kill him. He knew Evan loved him, but enough
to betray the Dark Lord?
He would only have himself to rely on, and in order to live, he needed to obtain as
much knowledge as possible. It would take years, but eventually he would be on par
with the Dark Lord. He had promised himself that when he had learnt that he was a
Horcrux. He was worth more to Voldemort, he knew he could be, than just a
container for his soul. Harry was worth more.
The urge to examine the Mirror bubbled away inside of him. He feared what he
would find, and he was cautious about everything to do with the object. Dumbledore
wanted him to find the Mirror for a reason, and whatever reason it was had to be a
bad one as far as the Dark side were concerned. Regardless of the fact that he was
neutral for the moment, Harry knew that any plans or ideas Dumbledore concocted
concerning him couldn't be good either.
The Mirror was in the same place as it always was. Harry had visited the room four
times since the start of February, when he and Lucius had been in the room
together. Each time, Harry simply saw his reflection, just the way he was with the
room behind him. Lucius had told him it meant that Harry was content with life. It
might change, the blond had said, or it might not. Harry half desired to know what it
might change into. Would he see a lover? Or a child? Or himself by Voldemort's
side?
He didn't know what he wanted. How was a Mirror supposed to show him his true
desires and wishes and needs, when he couldn't decide what to want? He had so
many desires, but each one arose so many questions within him, and when he
answered those to the best of his abilities, he realised that he couldn't desire what
he had.

He wanted to join Voldemort. But did Voldemort want him? Would Voldemort simply
kill him? Or torture him first? What if Voldemort hurt Evan for taking care of him? But
what if he didn't join Voldemort? What if he joined Dumbledore? He didn't want to
join Dumbledore, but if he did, would he be safe? Would Evan be safe? What would
Lucius think about him joining Dumbledore? Would Lucius hate him? Why did he
care what Lucius thought? If Lucius liked him, he might convince the Dark Lord to
spare him, but would Voldemort listen? Did he really want to join Voldemort, or were
those around him influencing him? No, he wanted to join. But would Voldemort let
him, or just kill him?
It went around inside of his head, like a broken record, repeating itself continuously
until Harry was sick of it. The doubts and the questions made his head hurt, and
there was no one who could assuage them except for Voldemort himself. And
Voldemort wasn't available right then.
Instead, he looked into the Mirror. One hand pressed against the glass, leaving a
smudge in the shape of his palm and fingertips. He pressed harder, pushing against
the Mirror, trying to force his way through.
"What do I want more than anything else?" He asked his reflection.
It wasn't unusual for reflections to respond in the Wizarding World. Harry had grown
quite used to having his mirror image tell him his hair was atrocious first thing in the
morning, or for a pocket mirror to insist that he needed to clean the lint out of his
pockets during the afternoon. But he had never had his reflection offer him up a
stone before.
Harry dropped his hand and moved backwards. A frown took over his face, and his
eyebrows drew down together, as his eyes studying the object resting in the palm of
his other's hand. The reflection held it out unhesitant. It was a small red stone,
shinny and rough around the edges, and Harry was compelled to reach out and grab
it, to take it for his own. It had been drawn from the reflection's trouser pocket, and
Harry patted his own, checking for anything that he knew shouldn't be there. There
was no stone in his pocket, and the Mirror-Harry smiled widely at the action and
stretched his arm out further.
"Take it," the reflection mouthed. "It's yours. You know you want it, more than
anything."
It was like the whisper of the wind, brushing faintly against the shell of his ears, only
the words didn't comprehend. Harry had to squint his eyes, locking his gaze onto the
mouth in the Mirror, and lip-read the words he could not hear.

His hand itched to take the stone. It was his, wasn't it? It was what he desired most,
right? As suddenly as he thought that, Harry remember the night he had been in the
same position, with Lucius at his back, about to lead him away, and his reflection
had started to throw something shinny and red into the air, before catching it and
hiding it in his pocket. The memory jarred him, like a punch in the face, and he
jumped back away from the Mirror.
Dumbledore was behind this, Harry thought angrily. He turned away from the Mirror,
quickly, before the stone could disappear into his pocket. He didn't want the stone.
He didn't even know what it was, so why would he want it?
What he did want was to know why Dumbledore was so determined to give it to him?
And it must have been Dumbledore. Because who else would play such
disconcerting, intriguing games?
XXX
May 4th 1992.
Apparently there were many 'stones' in the Wizarding World. Harry had spent rather
a few nights within the library, hidden under his Invisibility Cloak, researching. So far,
none of the references he had found referred to a stone that was red.
Apparently Dumbledore had grown impatient with him. That evening at dinner, an
owl came for him. Birds swooped low over the heads of the children, dropping letters
and packages, and evening editions of newspapers or magazines for those that
subscribed to them. A school owl perched on the table beside Harry and held out a
leg. Harry was sitting at the Slytherin table, and Draco reached over and untied to
note from the bird's leg. He unrolled the parchment without waiting for permission,
but Harry was used to his behaviour by now and took no offence.
"What the hell?" Draco mumbled. "Harry, you have some seriously messed up
friends."
The brunette frowned, reaching out and taking the note from Draco to read for
himself. Theo stopped eating, his hand moving to rest lightly on his wand. "Are you
ok?" He asked softly, worried for his friend.
"Yes I'm fine. It's fine. I need to go." He pushed away from the table. His plate was
barely touched, and his stomach was still rumbling, but Harry ignored it. It wasn't
important if he was hungry. He could always beg food from a house elf later, or
convince Hermione to conjure him some. Apparently, food cannot be conjured when
it does not exist, but if you cast the spell in the Great Hall (where people eat

everyday), leftovers will appear.

The Forbidden Forest was forbidden for a reason, and most people were wise
enough to heed that fact. Beltane had passed a few nights ago, and the trees right at
the very edge of the forest bore witness to that. Rags and scarves and ribbons and
belts were wrapped around the trees, knotted tightly in a mismatch of brightly
coloured fabrics, calling the attention of the Goddess Bel. The further into the forest
Harry walked though, the more apparent it was that not many people would have
dared as he did. The cloth offerings slimmed out, then vanished, after about two
minutes of walking, and by now Harry was so far into the forest that he couldn't even
see the flashes of colour when he looked back in the direction he had come.
Everything around him was a dark green, turning black in the twilight. But he wasn't
afraid.
Not of the forest, at any rate.
Harry looked down at the note in his hands. It wasn't sinister sounding, and it wasn't
threatening looking either. A simply note on simple parchment, but Harry knew it had
come from Dumbledore. And it was about the Stone.
Flamel created me to give new breath to life. I am like the Hand of Midas. A
month I will wait for you to come seek what you truly desire. 1
Harry sat down on a fallen branch, the note held out in front of him. He knew who
Midas was; he had heard the story in primary school. But he hadn't read about a
stone that could turn things to gold by touch? Unless... Flamel. Wasn't he an
alchemist? Perhaps?
Harry stood again. He crumpled the note up and shoved it into his pocket. He ran
back in the direction he had come, tripping and falling several times, his feet caught
on roots and vines and his face catching on branches, but he didn't care. There was
something he needed to know. He was willing to go to lengths for knowledge.
XXX
June 4th 1992.
It had been exactly a month. Harry had known what kind of Stone was hidden within
the Mirror of Erised, but he did not try to obtain it. The Philosopher's Stone is a
legendary alchemical substance, supposedly capable of turning base metals,
especially lead, into gold; it was also able to create an elixir of life, useful for
rejuvenation and for achieving immortality. For a long time, it was the most soughtafter goal in Western alchemy, meditated upon by alchemists like Sir Isaac Newton,

Frater Albertus, and eventually created by , Nicolas Flamel, with the help of Albus
Dumbledore.
Harry wanted to know why Dumbledore would offer up something so powerful to a
child, especially one the man couldn't control? But perhaps that was the point.
Maybe he was trying to see if he could in fact control Harry, to see if it were possible
that Harry might one day work for him, fight for him. Regardless of whether or not
Harry joined Voldemort, he knew he would never join the light side. To do so would
mean that he would risk killing a friend or a family member every time he engaged in
a battle with a Death Eater. He wouldn't risk that. He had enough Slytherin within
him to know it was better to run and hide than it was to betray your family.
Harry sat curled up on the cough in the Gryffindor common room. It wasn't actually
that he wanted to be there, but he and Hermione had been partnered for a last
minute Transfigurations project, and at least this way Dumbledore couldn't
'accidentally' stumble upon him, like he might have done if Harry were in the library.
Hermione had gone up to her dorm to get something, leaving Harry surrounded by
Gryffindors that liked him almost as much as they liked his Mudblood associate. He
pointedly ignored their glares and drew a book out of his bag. Opening it to the page
he wanted, Harry stared down at the picture, ignoring the text he had read so many
times already.
"What's that?" Hermione questioned him as she sank onto the couch beside him.
She had her Transfiguration notes in her arms, and a quill tucked behind her ear.
"The Philosopher's Stone." Harry told her softly, worried about someone
overhearing. Ron Weasley was huddled beside the fireplace, within hearing distance
of them, and also being glared at by the other Gryffindor's. The rumour was that, the
week after Dumbledore sent Harry the clue, Ron had been caught trying to smuggle
a dragon out of Hogwarts. His mother had sent several angry Howlers, Ron had
been badly burnt and spent the weekend in the Infirmary, and he and Seamus
Finnegan had lost 150 House Points each.
"What does it do?" Hermione inquired, leaning over to trace the shinny red stone
drawn on the page.
"Here," he said handing her the book. "Read about it another time. I'm finished with
that book anyway." She looked curiously over at him, and he shrugged. "It wasn't as
interesting as I thought it might have been. My curiosity is satisfied."
She took the book with a smile and laid it on the ground by her feet. She handed her
notes to Harry and together, they dove into their project.

All the while, surrounded by the metaphorical enemy, Harry wondered how
Dumbledore was taking his defeat.
XXX
Same time.
The boy hadn't come. No, that was a lie. The boy had come, but he hadn't stayed.
Nor had he taken the Stone.
On the ground in front of the Mirror was the same sheet of parchment Dumbledore
had owled to Harry a month ago. At the bottom of the clue, Harry had written,
"Philosopher's Stone. And no, it is not what I desire most."
Kingsley Shacklebolt sighed. "Are you sure, Albus?"
"There was something wrong with him when he arrived here," Dumbledore said,
folding up the parchment and tucking it into his robes. "I need to make sure he is
who we need him to be. Perhaps the Muggles raised him wrong, or his near death
experience left some sort of trauma upon him, but he is nothing like his parents."
"I'm sure you aren't the very same as your father?" Left unsaid was the fact that
Dumbledore's father had been in Azkaban. "All children are individual, Albus. They
are there own person, set to live their own lives and make their own mistakes."
Albus sighed, a frown on his face as he looked back into the Mirror. A blond haired
boy nodded to him, winding his arms around Albus' reflection's waist and he smiled
warmly before burying his face against Albus' neck. Dumbledore flinched, imagining
he could feel those lips moving against his own skin, the way Gellart had done it so
often when they were teenagers. "It's for the Greater Good," the blond promised.
And Dumbledore believed him.
"Sometimes, that's a bad thing." The old Wizard said at last. "Harry should have
been more like his parents. He reminds me too much of another boy who once came
to school within these hallowed halls."
"Yourself?" Kingsley asked, a small smirk on his lips.
"Voldemort." Dumbledore took a strange delight in watching his friend flinch at the
name. Kingsley accompanying him had ruined his plans for the night, and it felt good
to get back at the man for that, even if Kingsley hadn't known anything about it.
Dumbledore had planned to wait for Harry to take the Stone and leave, or to hand
the Stone over and leave, but either way once the boy was gone, the Wizard had

planned to lose himself in the fantasy the Mirror offered. Men had wasted away in
front of the Mirror of Erised, but Dumbledore planned only to indulge for one night.
The Mirror would be gone from Hogwarts the next day. Tonight was his last night to
spend with his lover.
"Would you leave us, Kingsley?" He asked softly, reaching forward to run his hand
over the glass face of Gellart Grindelwald. When Kingsley was gone, Gellart reached
forward, and offered Dumbledore the Philosopher's Stone.
Dumbledore took the Stone, and slid it into his pocket, beside his note to Harry. The
boy hadn't taken the Stone, despite knowing what it does. But that didn't mean
anything. Perhaps Harry really didn't want the Stone, or maybe he hadn't known that
Voldemort was searching for it? Regardless, Dumbledore had been in possession of
it for long enough and it was time to return it to the Stone's rightful owner.
And it was time to say goodbye to his lover as well.
XXX
June 20th 1992.
Slytherin won the House Cup again that year, not that anyone was surprised. Harry
didn't mind so much, he was proud of his House, but he was pleased for his friends
as well. Anyone was better winning it than the Gryffindor's, which was an opinion
shared by the majority of the Slytherins and Ravenclaws. Ravenclaw would have
won on Quidditch matches alone, except for Slytherin's monumental win against
Hufflepuff back in March shot them straight into the lead. Evan Ravenclaw crushing
Gryffindor in May hadn't been enough to save Harry's House from second place.
The Hogwarts Express was almost overcrowded, or so it seemed. The Slytherin side
of the train was packed with people, celebrating and congratulating, and the
Ravenclaws had joined them. The Hufflepuffs weren't exactly welcomed, but they
came anyway, shaking hands and patting shoulders, full of well wishes and smiles.
The other end of the train was filled with Gryffindors, but it looked rather empty in
comparison.
The Platform was just as crowded, bodies crushed in on top of each other, pushing
and shoving to get to their families, hugging and shouting and laughing. Most of the
Purebloods waited on the train, their families hung back against the walls of the
Station, keeping out of reach and away from the sweaty bodies that knocked against
one another.
Harry watched them through the window, smiling and happy, and so uncouth. He

couldn't help but snort lightly. He loved hugs as much as the next needy child, but
watching Mrs Weasley scoop her unwilling children into smothering hugs was a bit
much in his opinion. Fred looked like he could barely breathe! Draco appeared
beside him, a sneer on his lips, and he let out a disgusted tsk before heading
towards the door.
A House Elf appeared in the compartment, wearing a dirty pillowcase with an
elaborate 'M' sewn across the chest.
"Dobby's be missing Harry Potter, sir!" The Elf said. Despite the fact that the Elf
belonged to the Malfoy family, Dobby overlooked Draco's trunk, grabbed hold of
Harry's things and disappeared with a 'pop'.
Harry laughed softly, but Draco's angry comment was cut off by the appearance of a
second Malfoy elf, which hurriedly took hold of Draco's things and disappeared too.
"Favouritism. From your own servants, even!" Harry teased as they stepped off of
the train. He was carrying one handle of Theodore's trunk, while the boy in question
held onto the other strap. "I don't see why you don't shrink it down, Theo?" Harry
questioned as the heavy box thumped against his calf again.
"My father won't unshrink it for me." The boy admitted.
Harry frowned, and Draco scoffed. "You have a wand, don't you?" The blond said,
his chin tilted up in contempt. "Unshrink it yourself."
Theo didn't respond, and Harry frowned harder at his silence. Something wasn't right
in the Nott household, and Harry was determined to find out over the summer. Theo
had become a close friend of his, almost as close as Draco, and even though there
were secrets between them, Theo wouldn't be keeping them much longer if Harry
had his way.
"I'll see you next year." Harry said, dropping Theo's trunk to the ground beside a
House Elf who was waiting impatiently to take Theodore back home. "Write to me?"
"I'll try." The boy offered tentatively, before the Elf whisked him away.
"Well, Harry," Draco said, his voice turning coy, "aren't you going to greet my
Father?" Harry's head snapped to the side, Draco's wide-eyed look didn't fool him at
all, and he knew the blond was up to something.
"What?" Sure enough Lucius and Narcissa were making their way over, but Harry
didn't look at them for long. "What are you eluding to?"

"Did you know, sometimes, you talk in your sleep?" Draco threw the comment out
quickly, and then hurried towards his parents, knowing that Harry would never say
anything in Lucius' presence.
The brunette shot him malicious looks, eyes cutting into Draco's flesh as handily as
a knife, but the blond just scowled back and fluttered his eyelashes teasingly when
Lucius' back was turned. Lucius glanced back and forth between the two, but before
he could question their odd behaviour and the tenseness between them, a hand fell
onto Harry's shoulder and squeezed, nails biting into his skin through his shirt.
"Come freak, I haven't all day." Petunia Dursley scowled down at him. Evan had
decided she needed to make a public, magical, appearance if they were going to
avoid Dumbledore's suspicions over the summer holidays. She wasn't happy about
the fact, but from the bruise she was trying to hide under her concealed, Harry
guessed she didn't have much choice.
"Yes Aunt Petunia." He almost felt bad for her, and then he remembered how much
he hated her, and instead felt glad it was her suffering, and not he. "Let's go home.
I've missed my Uncle very much."
Harry waved at Draco, momentarily forgetting about the blond's teasing comments,
and allowed his aunt to leave him off of Platform 9 and . The further away they
drove from the train station, the more he should have felt like he was leaving home.
But he didn't. There was no grief, or resentment, or apprehension. He would be back
next year, so there was nothing to mourn.
He wondered if the adage about home being where the heart was was as true as the
one about knowledge being power? The closer he got to Evan, the more he felt like
he was going home.
XXX
1 " Midas was a King who was 'gifted' with the ability to turn whatever he touched
into gold.... Rocks, food, water... his daughter. He prayed to a Goddess to have the
'curse' removed.
* * *
Ugh, there is something wrong with the scrolling thing on my mouse. Glare.

Chapter 21
I know this is late in coming, and I have my excuses but I doubt you want to hear
them.
Instead, enjoy the start of Arc 2. I have my ideas, and my plans, and I hope you like
(or will like) what I have in store for you all and for Harry!
* * *
Words: 3,693
Chapter 21
July 31st 1992.
For Harry Potter, it was more than just a normal day. Today was his twelth birthday.
Evan had invited some of Harry's friends to visit, but so far none of them had turned
up. Draco was deffinately coming, and Hermione said she's take the underground
and visit for an hour or so, but he hadnt been able to contact Theo at all.
A pile of unopened letters sat on top of Harry's desk. The first few letters had been
opened, but Harry had gotten no reply, but after a while his letters had begun to
return unopened and Theo had sent no explanation for that fact. It was worrying, but
Draco had just shrugged it off when he was told. Draco had offered to floo over
(since a Muggle house wasn't connected to the Floo Network, Harry couldn't do the
same) or firecall or something. The blond boy was certain that Theodore couldn't
ignore them both all summer, regardless of whatever Harry had done to upset him.
Harry felt that it was more than just being 'upset'. He hadn't actually done anything to
make Theo angry with him, or to entice Theo to outright ignore him. With what Harry
had learnt from Evan about Mr. Nott, he was rather worried for his friend's safety.
The sound of apparition startled Harry out of his thoughts. Evan called up the stairs,
telling Harry to hurry up. His first guest had arrived.
"Hey Draco," Harry said grinning, as he practically ran down the stairs. The boy had
been side-apparated by his father into the garden of Number 4, Privet Drive. The
children hugged, patted each other on the back, all the while grinning, and then
Draco handed over his gift.
"I thought you'd like it, being a Ravenclaw and all," he said with a roll of his eyes. He
was slightly miffed that Harry hadn't wanted to be with him in Slytherin, but he knew

his friend deserved to be in the 'clever people's House'. "I can get you something
else if you don't like it?"
"I'm sure I'll love it." He grabbed Draco's hand and led him into the living room.
Lucius and Evan had waited in there, allowing the boys' time to greet each other
privately. "Hello Lucius," Harry whispered, ducking his head shyly to avoid the blond
man's stare.
"You're looking very well this afternoon." Lucius reached out to take Harry's hand,
and he brought it to his mouth for a light kiss. The boy blushed: he was used to
Lucius being free with his lips, but he still felt uncomfortable with his own father
watching him. "I also have a gift for you."
"Thank you very much!" Harry grinned, and then shook his gift lightly, "but I still have
to open Draco's."
Evan's hands fell on Harry's shoulders, and he guided the boy towards the sofa and
pushed him down. "Go ahead then, don't keep us in suspense any longer."
Petunia had gone to work at the caf, and Dudley had been told to go to a friend's
house for as much of the day as possible. Piers and Dudley would probably be at the
park, beating up small children, but at least they wouldn't be around to ruin Harry's
birthday. The four of them were alone, Harry and his family, with presents and a
huge cake sitting on the coffee table in front of them.
Harry ripped the paper off of the gift Draco had given him. "Oh!" The boy gasped, his
fingers brushing lightly over the cover of the book. "This must have been so
expensive!" It was a leather bound copy of Hogwarts: A History, complete with a
gold engraving of the school crest on the front and the author's signature on the
inside cover. "I can't wait to read it!"
Draco smirked, his pale cheeks flushing in pride. "The bookstore owner said that this
was the original copy. There are footnotes on the pages, handwritten additions, and
even an introduction written by the author." 1
"Draco, it's amazing! Thank you so much!" He gushed, his fingers curled around the
spine of the book. He beamed at his friend, face flushed and his eyes wide and
happy. "Now, what did you get me?" He turned to grin at Lucius, and the elder man
allowed his lips to twist into a soft smile.
He reached into his robes and withdrew a small package, which immediately resized
when Harry touched it. The spell had been cast before they entered the house, and
so the wards did not recognize the re-sizing as 'magic'. Harry pulled off the wrapping

paper, bouncing in his seat from excitement as he immediately recognized the shape
of the object through the paper.
The words 'Nimbus 2001' gleamed in gold letters on the handle of the broom. Its
dark wood was polished heavily, and it sparkled and shone as Harry tilted the broom
from side to side, examining it. The bristles were long and smooth, all of them facing
the same way and they practically vibrated as Harry's hand touched them, their need
to be in use almost as strong as Harry's need to use the broom.
"This is- You shouldn't have... I- I- I don't know what to say. Wow! Oh, thank you,
Lucius, it's the best- I really wanted- wow!" Without thinking, Harry launched himself
across the space between them. Evan had to jump forward and grab hold of the
cake before it fell off of the table, but Harry didn't notice. He was on Lucius' lap, the
broom still clutched in one hand and the other arm wrapped tightly around Lucius'
neck as he gave the man a hug. The blond's arm went around Harry's waist, holding
the boy, pressing them closer together, and he smiled down into Harry's hair listening
as the child mumbled his thanks over and over again.
"Harry, Harry, Harry," Lucius said, slowly pushing Harry back. "You shouldn't thank
me yet, you don't know what else I've done." Harry looked up at him, his eyes
hooded as he tried to think what Lucius could mean. Due to the way he was raised,
he was instantly suspicious, but Lucius only chuckled as Harry narrowed his eyes
and frowned. "Close, my love, but not quite what you are thinking. I don't require
anything back from you, nor would I ask." He cupped Harry's chin, his thumb lightly
drawing circles on one cheek before moving down to rub against Harry's bottom lip.
"Father bought me one for my birthday as well!" Draco exclaimed, and Lucius
nodded lightly. "I'm trying out for Seeker this year, so that way we can play against
each other. It'll be like the one-on-one matches we used to have! Oh, and-" Lucius
shot him a glare, and Draco immediately fell silent.
"Let me tell him, son. It's my surprise." The man was positively smug looking now.
He raised both hands to cup Harry's face, ignoring Evan who was scowling at their
position, and pretending not to be affected by Harry shifting on his lap. "Not only did I
gift Draco with the same broom as you, but the entire Slytherin team as well."
"WHAT!" Harry shrieked, jumping off of Lucius' lap, his hands balled in anger. The
broom lay on the sofa, forgotten. "You did what? That is SO UNFAIR!"
"Now, now," Lucius chided, as he stood. He grabbed hold of Harry's hands and
squeezed lightly. "Now you have more opportunity to astound us with your Quidditch
brilliance." He was smirking at the child and, beside Evan on the other sofa, Draco

was looking pretty pleased as well. Lucius leant closer, so only Harry could hear, and
whispered, "I'm sure you'll do amazingly. A store of brooms could never make up for
your skill and grace." He pressed a soft kiss to Harry's cheek (out of sight of Evan's
gaze) and took his seat again.
Harry scowled at his friend's father, but in the end he just took a deep breath and let
it go. He moved around the coffee table and sat himself down beside Evan, his
upper body tilted so it was pressed against his father's side.
"What did you get me?" He teased; looking coyly up at the Death Eater threw his eye
lashes.
"I will be buying your gift when we go to collect your school supplies. You will just
have to be patient." Evan had pulled a knife from somewhere, and he leant forward
to cut the first slice of cake. Harry was given the first slice, and as per tradition they
skipped the whole 'lighting candles and singing thing', and instead tucked straight in
to the sugary treat. After Harry's first bite, the doorbell rang.
Logically, he knew it was Hermione. When he opened the front door, the grin on his
face slipped off when he saw her, and not Theo. He was happy to see his associate,
but he missed his friend. Theo hadn't come to his birthday party. Theo wasn't
answering or reading any of his mail, and Hedwig had made enough journeys for it
not to be a coincidence.
Harry was really worried now.
XXX
August 4th 1992.
Hermione scowled as she was dragged forward. Her feet were soaked with rain
water and mud, and she stumbled as Ron Weasley pulled harshly on her arm. It had
stopped raining now, but the ground was sodden and her hair was stringy and wet
still. She shivered lightly, tugging her arm from Ron's grip so she could cross them
both over her chest.
"Come on," the redheaded boy urged, "let's get inside where it's warm."
Behind them, the Weasley twins followed, smirking at each other. Hermione scowled
at them over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed and she was obviously annoyed. It
had only been a few days since Harry's pseudo-party, and Hermione had been very
pleased that Evan had invited her to visit a second time during the holiday. She had
been planning on going today, but out of the blue a flying car of all things had

appeared outside of her bedroom window. Ron had all but kidnapped her from her
own house!
Not to mention that his driving was atrocious, and more than once Hermione had
actually fallen out of the door of the car while it was mid-flight. The rain had started
somewhere past Surrey and Fred hadn't been able to work the electric windows,
which resulted in the windows being open for the entire journey. Most of the car's
interior, as well as its passengers, were soaked through by the time they landed in
the cornfield in Ottery St. Catchpole.
Hermione had tried to insist that she didn't need to be rescued, that her parents were
not keeping her hostage, and that she hadn't responded to Ron's letters because
she did not like him, not because she was being prevented from responding. Ron,
unfortunately, would not listen to her.
She had to jog to keep up with the taller boy. Ron's elder brothers were still trading
grins with one another, amused at their youngest brother's dense behaviour. Ron
had woken them at an ungodly hour, determined to rescue Hermione because she
was his link to befriending Harry Potter, pleasing the Headmaster and gaining fame
and fortune! They had rolled their eyes, but had agreed to go with him to her home in
Woking to make sure he didn't destroy their dad's car. Headmaster Dumbledore had
been to visit their parents early in the summer break, and apparently Ron had
overheard the adults talking about how Harry needed a more Gryffindor-like
friendship. The twins chuckled, knowing full well that Ron had likely taken on the role
as his own, whether anyone wanted him to or not.
"Would you stop?" Hermione hissed, as Ron reached over to grab her arm again.
"You don't even like me! And I don't like you, so I demand you stop touching me, let
me go inside and phone a taxi! Or at the very least, allow me to floo to a train station,
Woking or Redhill will be fine."
Woking Station was actually in the town she lived in, and very close to her home.
Redhill was further south, closer to Little Whinging, where Harry lived.2 Guildford
Station was situated in North Surrey, and she hadn't had time to grab any cab money
when Ron had unfairly hustled her out of her bedroom window.
"Of course I don't like you," Ron said, scoffing. He grabbed hold of her upper arm
and pulled Hermione forward. She stumbled, but Fred's hand on her elbow steadied
her. The elder Weasley scowled at his younger brother, but Ron merely rolled his
eyes. "What does liking you have to do with anything, Granger? But while you're
here, you might as well invite Harry to visit too! We can all hang out, or something."
He pushed her through the open doorway into The Burrow and then guided her

towards the fireplace.

"Harry doesn't have the Floo Network connected to his house." Hermione informed
him primly, folding her arms across her chest angrily. "And no, I will not force him to
come here and endure your presence. You know very well that Harry and Draco hate
you!" She told him, her eyes narrowed.
"What does Malfoy have to do with anything?" Ron laughed cruelly. "He wasn't
invited." With a whistle, a scruffy old owl appeared on the windowsill, holding its leg
out patiently. "Errol will bring your letter to Harry. Wait for a reply, ok?" He told the
owl, ignoring Hermione's stuttered protests.
She couldn't believe the nerve of that boy! No wonder she went out of her way to
avoid most of Gryffindor House. If they acted like Ron for the most part, the
Slytherins were right to put Gryffindor down. It was actually embarrassing, Ron's
behaviour.
"Don't mind him." George said, shrugging softly.
"He seems to think he'll be," Fred said, trailing off and allowing his brother to finish
the sentence.
"Harry's new BBF!"
"Idiot," they said together, plopping down into a kitchen chair each.
"Well, yes, that's wonderful and delusional of him, but may I please go home now?"
She sighed heavily as Molly Weasley appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.
Hermione's eyes slid shut and she prayed for patience as Ron began nagging her
about writing Harry a letter, and Mrs. Weasley tried to force feed her, and then Arthur
Weasley was there, asking her questions about electricity of all things! She was half
tempted to trick Harry into coming here, just so she wouldn't have to suffer alone.
XXX
August 11th 1992.
Lucius had firecalled Evan almost immediately after the strange house elf apparated
into his study. It was holding the small black diary that had once belonged to Lord
Voldemort, and Lucius had paled horribly as the Horcrux was touched and petted by
a stranger's servant.
"You should keep better care of this," the Elf told him. It was wearing a bright pink

pillowcase, with an elaborate 'G' on the centre front, sewn in gold and turquoise. The
same colours had been used on the back of the pillowcase to form the letter 'L', and
around the bottom, the pillowcase was hemmed with silk of royal purple. The elf
looked ridiculously comical, and Lucius could not think of one associate of his that
would have so little taste as to dress their servant as such.
"This is very important," the elf added, its dirty nails scrapping over the front of the
leather. Lucius reached forward, prying the elf's hands off of the book, and he
hurriedly tucked it into a draw. "He'll want it back soon, the Dark Lord will." The elf
wasn't talking like a normal House Elf either, and its eyes kept rolling in its head, as if
it were possessed or under the 'Imperius'. "Take better care of it, Lucius."
And there it was, Lucius thought, the dreaded hissing sound on the 's' at the end of
his name. Voldemort had always dragged the word out like that, hissing it, instead of
just speaking it, but only when he was feeling playful. Lucius' wand was on the
House Elf, ready to question it, but by the time his brain had kicked into gear the elf
was gone.
He had called Evan seconds after, first ensuring that the diary was safely warded
and locked away. They had many things to discus. Such questions were on Lucius'
mind. Who had the elf belonged to? And could it be possible that the Dark Lord had
sent that message?
When Draco had noticed that Evan Rosier was in his home, he immediately left for
Privet Drive. The Portkey he borrowed from his father dropped him in a heap in
Harry's back garden, and Draco hurriedly picked himself up and brushed off his
robes. Without knocking he pushed open the backdoor and walked into the kitchen.
Petunia Dursley had not been expecting visitors. Her husband (who would always be
her husband even if he was acting freaky and actually being nice to her freakish
nephew) had gone out somewhere, and the freak was up in his bedroom. Dudley
had gone to Piers' house again, and she had been enjoying alone time in the kitchen
watching some stupid daytime chat-show. Draco presence frightened her enough
that she threw the remote control at his head, shrieking.
Draco ducked. He barely avoided being hit in the face, and it was all he could do to
leave his wand in his pocket and not attack the Muggle bitch. He stomped past her,
seething and clenching his fists, and she watched him with her mouth agape.
Harry appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "Is everything ok?" He panted, chest
heaving. "Oh, Dray, it's you. I thought something was wrong."
"That- that woman! She threw something at me!" He whinged, his eyes narrowed.

"She does that sometimes," Harry said with a shrug, brushing off Petunia's
behaviour as if she were a disobedient dog. "Evan went out, so she thinks it's ok to
act like her usual horrid self while he's gone."
Draco nodded in agreement, leaving out the fact that he had rather startled her, so
he probably deserved to have something thrown at him. But damn it! How dare she
hurl something at a Malfoy?
"You know," Draco drawled as they headed back upstairs to Harry's room. "I don't
think I've ever asked you before, but how come your Aunt still seems to think Evan is
your uncle? He wasn't even Polyjuiced. Surely he doesn't use the Potion all of the
time?" Draco's eyes had widened in horror at the thought of having to pretend to be
the fact, ugly Muggle all day, every day. He shuddered.
"Of course not. The first time we all went out together, Evan hexed her and Dudley.
Regardless of whether he uses the potion of not the two of them will only see
Vernon. As far as they are both concerned, Evan IS Vernon, only he's just had a
complete personality change. No one knows he is dead, except for us lot and your
father too. I haven't even told Theo." Draco beamed, feeling very smug all of a
sudden. "But I was thinking about it, you know. Do you think he'll mind that I didn't
tell him sooner?"
"Speaking of Theo," Draco said, interrupting Harry's train of thought. He wasn't too
keen on having to share what secrets of Harry's he did know with other people, even
if that person was a mutual friend. "I tried firecalling him the other day. His house elf
told me to tell you to stop sending unwanted letters, and that we were both naughty,
horrid boys who were disturbing her young master and angering her master." Draco
swallowed heavily. "I'm not sure, but I think there might have been blood on her
uniform."
"That settles it. We have to go visit him! It's not normal, for anyone to be
sequestered away like that!" Harry insisted. He was already running around his
bedroom, gathering anything of use such as gold and his wand and his invisibility
cloak. "We have to go check on him at least."
"Of course, if you like." Draco offered gamely. "But how are we getting there?"
"How did you get here?" Harry questioned with a frown.
"Portkey, but it's only set to come to your garden, or to the Atrium at home." Draco
gasped, his eyes going wide and he pulled his wand out of his robe. "Come on, I
have an idea." He grabbed Harry's hand and all but ran from the room, the brunette

trailing behind him. When they were outside of the house, and away from the wards,
Draco flung his wand arm out in front of him, his wand in his hand, and he grinned
widely as a crack like cannon fire echoed down the street.
A large purple bus hurtled towards them, breaking at the last possible moment to
avoid running them down, and while Harry scrambled backwards out of the way
Draco merely stood his ground. He turned to look at his friend, sprawled out on the
pavement, and he smirked.
"Welcome to the-" A fairly young man with pimples and greasy hair started to say as
the doors opened, but Draco interrupted him.
"The Knight Bus will bring us where we want to go," he told Harry, raising his chin
into the air. He boarded and passed a small handful of Galleons to the Conductor.
"We would like to go to Canterbury.3 Theodore Nott lives with the Archbishop of
Canterbury at Lambeth Palace."4
Stan Shunpike, the Conductor of the Knight Bus, looked over at the driver. Ernie
nodded his head, and put the bus in gear. Harry jumped on, and took a seat (not
paying, as Draco had paid for the both of them), and as the bus pulled away from the
curb Harry had to grab on to the window frame to stop himself from falling off of his
chair.
They were on their way, and Harry was not looking forward to the ride.
XXX
1 " Who wrote Hogwarts: A History? I can't find it on the HP-Lexicon!
2 " Redhill, Guildford and Woking are all real railway stations in the Borough of
Surrey. Surrey town is actually a very small place. Little Whinging is a fictitious town,
but Woking is a real place. I couldn't find reference to where Hermione lived, so I
chose this place. It's not close to Harry's house, but it's not too far away either. I
have no idea how close Redhill Station is to Little Whinging, so I'm sorry if what I
wrote is incorrect.
3 " Canterbury is located along the M2, to the very south-east of England. Surrey is
South of London, along the M25. They are no where near each other!
4 " Lambeth Palace is actually the residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury.
Theaodore Nott is a rich and influential man, and despite the fact that he is not
Muggle, he was enthroned at Canterbury Cathedral in 1983 (the actual date of the
real Archbishop's enthronement was February 27th 2003!) and now works as a

liaison to the Ministry on behalf of the Catholic Church. EDIT

* * *
Thank you for reading. This chapter was unbearably hard for me to write, so I hope
you all feel kind enough to review? I'll feel better...
Also, who else is addicted to "School of Wizardry" on Facebook? LOL!

Chapter 22
Wow who would have thought it would be so hard to write the "Harry-and-Dracokidnap-Theo" scene? Short chapter, on account of the previous statement. The
possessed House Elf kidnaps Harry next chapter: guess whom it takes Harry to?
Apologies for the delay, but at least I did 2 chapters of The Abyss: check it out!
* * *
Words: 3,965
Chapter 22
August 11th 1992.
They must have been about half way there when the first person got off of the bus.
Three more got on though, so they had to wait a little while so that everyone could
pay and find their seats.
"Is that where Theo really lives?" Harry finally asked his voice breathy with surprise.
"Well of course! Did you think his father betraying the Dark Lord was the only reason
we think of him as a traitor?" Draco scoffed. "Imagine, living completely surrounded
by Muggles!" Harry gave a pointed cough, and Draco rolled his eyes at him. "Well
you have no choice, do you? But Theaodore Nott didn't have to take the job!
Apparently his wife was from Canterbury, so they moved there when the Ministry
offered him the job. He actually has a degree in Religion from a," Draco cast an
inconspicuous look around the bus, making sure that no one of consequence was
riding with them, and then said, "Muggle University! A Muggle school, Harry! A
degree in Muggle religion, what was he thinking? It's as bad as taking Muggle
Studies to NEWT level!" The blond sneered darkly at the thought.
"Do you think that has anything to do with why the Dark Lord wouldn't rescue his
wife for him?" Harry asked curiously. It was always a good idea to remember little
facts such as this; it helped put Voldemort's character into perspective.
"Well he did, didn't he? But Theaodore wouldn't wait long enough! Traitor," Draco
muttered, his face flushed in anger. "Father never mentioned anything about the
Dark Lord disliking Nott's education. At least he was educated, I suppose, but none
of the others made a habit of keeping their dislike silent. I think, if some of the other's
had their way, Theaodore would be dead and not his wife."

"So he isn't popular," Harry said to himself, "it won't be too hard, then, to get Theo
out of his custody?"
Draco's eyebrows furrowed and he scowled slightly. "Why? I doubt Rosier will adopt
him anyway! The man barely stands having me around without father there, and
we've been friends for years!" Draco gave a chuckle, smirking now. "Why would he
want another child around, Harry? He isn't known for being a paternal person!"
Harry looked at him curiously, thinking the words over, but didn't speak. He'd talk to
Evan and Lucius about it later, after they found out the truth about Theo's home life.
Lucius had always been kind to children, even the Muggle ones that were kidnapped
on raids. He hadn't hurt them, but he didn't save them either. Though this time it was
a Wizarding child at stake, so maybe Lucius would be more open to the idea? Surely
there was some sort of child protection system in the Wizarding World? Someone
would have to help Theodore.
They spent the rest of the bus ride sitting in silence, both of them staring out of
opposite windows. Trees blurred together as they sped past, and Harry felt
something coiling and uncoiling in his stomach and realised it was nervousness. He
was nervous, and rightly so. What had they been thinking? Just appearing outside of
Lambeth Palace and expecting to be taken as a serious threat, it was a ridiculous
idea. But there was no going back now. He and Draco would just have to face the
situation head on, and hope that they Death Eater they were planning to accuse of
child abuse was wary enough of Lord Malfoy to not kill either of them on the spot.
"Canterbury, your stop," Ernie shouted, poking his head around the screen that hid
his seat from view. Draco and Harry looked over at him, and stood simultaneously.
"Thank you," Harry said softly as he stepped off of the Knight Bus, offering a small
smile to Stan.
Draco raised his head a little, turning his nose up at the pair standing at the front of
the bus. He offered no thanks or goodbye as he stepped from the purple vehicle and
onto solid ground again. "Well thank Merlin that that's over!" He said, breathing a
sigh of relief. Ernie's driving had been terrible. "Now I understand why father never
takes the Knight Bus."
"Lucius doesn't take the bus? Ever?" Draco shook his head, slowly, unsure why
Harry was repeating something he had just said. "And you only thought to mention
this now?"
Draco gave him a sneer, but reached over to grab onto Harry's arm in case they got
separated. "What use would it have been? We had to get the bus, unless you were

planning to wait for Rosier to come home and apparate us here?"

There was a crowd. People milled around, knocking into each other, and crossing
the streets to avoid each other, and generally just bustling about like the world was
running out of time. Draco was bumped into several times, and each time he snarled
at the person responsible, his pale face flushed with indignation. "How dare they?
Filthy beasts!" Draco hissed to himself, reaching out to steady Harry as a man ran
into the brunette child and nearly knocking him to the ground. 1
"There it is!" Harry said, squeezing lightly on Draco's hand.
The Knight Bus had dropped them off at the end of the road, to avoid the
pedestrianised area. Ahead of them towered a huge building, made of grey stone. It
was almost square in shape, except that there was a second part attached to the
square building, and it made it appear more rectangular. Harry thought he saw a
person walking through the second part of Lambeth Palace, and to be sure he
wasn't seeing things, he pointed that out to Draco.
"Oh that's where the Notts' live. It's warded so that the Muggles can't see it or feel it,
so occasionally they happen to walk through it. It's not that unusual. Have you ever
seen a Muggle trying to find their way around Hogwarts?" Draco chuckled, as if the
thought was particularly amusing to him. In Hogwarts: A History it was written that a
Muggle would just wander around unhindered, seeing only rubble and stone
foundations as if a long, long time ago something had once stood in the empty field
where Hogwarts existed. That wasn't really a funny thought, Harry thought, before
realising that whatever particular Muggle Draco had been told about, was probably
being attacked by Wizards at the time of his 'finding his way around Hogwarts'.
Harry didn't answer, instead choosing to take a second look at the building they were
rapidly approaching. It was almost a castle; the size of Hogwarts Harry would say.
There were large turrets, and arrow-slit windows, and old fashioned London
chimneys dotted across the structure. Harry thought it was beautiful. There was a
familiarity about it, something that likened it to Hogwarts in aesthetics despite being
completely devoid of a magical aura. It was a place Harry felt he could become used
to, perhaps enjoy living in, withstanding the horrid Death Eater that lived inside.
Maybe when the Dark Lord returned, and if Harry chose to side with him, he and
Evan might buy somewhere like the Palace to live. It was a far cry nicer than
Number 4, Privet Drive.
"Do we just knock on the door?" Harry asked softly.
"The two buildings have two separate doors. We'll need to walk around the back."

Draco said just as softly. The two boys were almost whispering, and the hand that
Harry clenched within his own was trembling. Draco was as nervous as he was,
though neither boy was willing to show it or admit that this had been a bad idea.
They were here now; they had no choice but to continue forward.
Harry was the first to knock on the door. A couple of Muggles walked right passed
him, almost brushing against the back of Draco's robe, and carried on walking as if
the children hadn't been there.
"They can't see us. We're inside Nott's wards." Draco mumbled softly.
Before Harry could reply, the double doors swung inwards. Light entered the
building, lighting up the stained glass windows that lined the corridor behind the
House Elf that watched them impatiently. He, or at least Harry though it was a he,
was a dirty looking house elf, nothing like anything Harry had ever seen at Malfoy
Manor.
The elf was rude too, and it folded his arms across his chest and snarled, "What do
yous brat-sies be wanting?" He didn't wait for a reply before he said, "yous cannot be
seeing Young Master. He is not being well-sies." The door slammed shut in their
faces, before either Harry or Draco could get a word in edge ways.
They turned to look at each other, identical looks of shock on their faces, and then
Draco's eyes narrowed into slits. Mortified and humbled, two things Malfoys did not
like to be, Draco raised his hand again and pounded loudly on the front door.
"Now see here you filthy creature," He snarled at the Elf before the door had fully
opened. "Do you know who you are dealing with? How dare you speak to a Malfoy
like that! I ought to-" Before Draco could spit out his threat, Harry shoved him to the
ground.
What Draco hadn't noticed, but what Harry fortunately had, was that the Elf was
holding a wand this time. It had been raised and pointed at Draco, and the vivid red
light shot harmlessly over Draco's head because of Harry, but a poor Muggle a few
feet behind them dropped to the ground and started to scream. Harry tried to ignore
the wailing Muggle, tried to pretend the effects of the 'Cruciatus' didn't bother him,
and really it wasn't so hard to put it out of his mind. He was far too worried about the
elf whose wand was now turned on him!
Harry's wand had been brought from Olivander's shop, so it came with the Ministry
required tracking charm on it. That meant that if Harry used magic outside of
Hogwarts before he came of age, the Ministry would know about it. There was no
telling how much trouble he could get into if he was caught for using underage

magic. Fortunately, Harry had taken to carrying around the Yew training-wand that
Lucius had bought for him some years back. He didn't use the wand (his real one
was much stronger), but the more he came to realise he liked Lucius, the more he
felt like cherishing anything Lucius gave him. It was the same as him loving every
single gift Evan had ever given him.
Harry crouched slowly, reaching into his sock to pull out the wand. He pointed it at
the house elf, ignoring Draco's wide-eyed stare, and snarled, "how dare you?" He
cast the first thing that came into his mind, not thinking it through or even hesitating.
"Evanesco!" It was the first spell Evan had thought him, the first spell Harry had
performed in front of someone other than his father, and just like it had then, the
spell vanished what it had been cast on.
"Where do you think the elf went?" Draco asked slowly, turning to look behind him
just in case the foul beast was planning to stab him in the back. "And where did it get
a wand from anyway!"
"That was Theo's wand," Harry whispered. It had been familiar looking, now that it
was safe enough to think back on the last minute and a half. Harry had recognized
the wand, and as he realised this, he felt his heart lodge itself into his throat. "Why
would Theo give his wand to a house elf?"
"What respectable house elf attacks Wizards?!" Draco shrieked, far more concerned
with his near torture at the hands of Wizarding kind's servants.
"Come on!" Harry grabbed Draco by the hand and dragged him towards the still
open doorway. Just as he was about to step through the threshold, a different house
elf appeared and the double doors slammed closed in their faces. Harry cursed
softly, looking into the air and up at the numerous windows above his head. "Do you
think any of them belong to Theo?"
Draco didn't reply. But he did snatch Harry's training-wand roughly, pointing it at their
feet in turn and muttering 'Levicorpus'.
"What the hell?" Harry whispered as they began to rise into the air, slowly at first,
and then faster as Draco flicked the wand a second time. "Where did you learn this?"
"My godfather taught it to me. He used to chase me around with floating toys." Draco
shrugged, and kept his face turned away from Harry's unbelieving stare.
"Snape... Snape played games with you? Snape? We are thinking of the same
Snape, right?" Draco rolled his eyes but kept silent. Of course Harry didn't know
Severus like Draco did. Severus had been practically family growing up, and Evan

hated Snape so he kept Harry as far away from the man as possible. Even though
they both lived in the same school Harry still went out of his way to avoid the
professor, whereas Draco sought out the man's company in his free time.
Both boys grabbed onto the closest windowsill and pulled themselves in through the
open windows. Nearly every window on that floor level was open, and rightly so.
When they fell into the room, landing painfully as the levitation spell ended, they
were assaulted by the coppery scent of blood.
Draco looked around, warily holding Harry's yew wand out in front of him. They were
in a bedroom, but Harry didn't recognize any of the dusty possessions as belonging
to Theodore. "It's a woman's room." Draco said after a moment of silence. "Mother
has one too, separate from her bedchambers. She likes to be alone there and read
sometimes. Most women in arranged marriages have their own sets of rooms.
Maybe this belonged to Theo's mum?"
"It would explain the dust." Harry said, not needing to add that it didn't explain the
stink of spilt blood. Perhaps this was where Theaodore Nott abused his sons, within
the room that had once housed his beloved wife? "Come on, let's find Theo."
"Point me," Draco said, placing the wand flat on his outstretched palm, "Theodore
Nott."
They followed the spell's directions out of the room and down the length of the
corridor. Everything here smelt mouldy and damp, the scent of blood faded a little,
but it was obvious that this part of Lambeth Palace was very rarely used. They didn't
bother to check what was behind the row of closed doors they passed by, they were
only interested on the last door on the left, because that was where the yew wand
was pointing.
Hesitantly, Harry nudged the door open. Someone inside whimpered.
The noise, so scared and pitiful, stole away the nervousness that had been holding
Harry back. All that was left now was the need to defend and protect. Theo was his
friend; one of his only friends, and no one was allowed to treat Theo like Vernon had
treated Harry. Hands clenched at his side, Harry stepped bravely into the room. But
there was no Death Eater, or barbaric house elf, inside.
Theodore was curled up on himself in the corner of the room, tucked half under the
windowsill and half hidden by the bed frame. He whimpered again as Harry's
footsteps echoed on the stone floor.
"Theo?" Harry whispered, not wanting to raise his voice. "It's Harry. And Draco's

outside the door. We've come to rescue you." Harry stepped around the edge of the
bed and gasped. He hadn't been able to help himself, the sound had left him
involuntarily, but he had been so surprised that there wasn't anything he could have
done to silence himself. "Oh Merlin! How bad are you hurt?"
Nearly every part of Theo visible was covered in blood. He lifted his hands and held
them out in front of his pale face. Both were flecked with dried tears and blood.
"It's not mine." The child whispered. His whole body was shaking. "F-Father was
beating Terrence. Terrence's tutor was unhappy with his latest essay, so f-father beat
him. I tried to help, I tried, and Terrence was bleeding so badly when f-father left. He
went to the Ministry." Theo seemed to have great difficulty with using the word
'father', but Harry couldn't blame him. Calling Vernon his 'uncle' had used to make
Harry feel sick too. "I tried to help him. I tried but then Ruin came and told me that
people were outside. Ruin said I had to hide in my room or he'd tell my father. He
took my wand from me, said he had to deal with the brats outside. Misery took
Terrence away. They've probably gone to the Healer f-father pays to hide the
beatings."
"Who are Misery and Ruin?" Draco asked hesitantly, peeking his head around the
doorframe.
"F-Father's house elves. He bought them as babies after Mother died. Named them
himself," Theo added, with a hysterical chuckle.
"Right. Explains their personalities then." Harry grumbled. "Come on, let's get you
out of here." Harry grabbed Theo's arm, hauling him to his feet. "Draco!" Harry
called, as he opened the window they were standing beside.
"Levicorpus," Draco repeated the spell for each of them, and then they jumped out
of the window.
Just as they were about to touch the ground, a shadow appeared in the window.
Theaodore Nott sneered down at the children. His son was trembling, leaning
heavily on the dark haired boy, and the child that was so obviously a Malfoy (and
therefore not his intended target) was standing a little distance from them and was
the only one armed with a wand. "Crucio!" He hissed, feeling hatred well up within
him.
Harry dropped to the ground first. He felt his blood rushing through his ears, loud
and unsteady, pounding hatefully around his skull as his arms and legs contracted
and pain raced through his veins. He was writhing unattractively on the ground,
screaming and clawing at his face, and he wasn't sure when the pain ended

because he could still feel the tremors running across his skin and through his limbs
as Draco and Theo dragged him to his feet and forced him to run. And run, until they
were out of Mr. Nott's spell-range, and they were safe.
When they stopped moving, Harry was the first to sit down. Well, actually, he fell. His
legs gave out beneath him and he landed on the pavement, curling up on his side.
His body refused to stop shaking, and his heart was beating so fast that Harry
thought it might have burst if he had been held under the Curse much longer. No
wonder Lord Voldemort was so fond of that Curse, Harry thought feeling strangely
unconnected with from his surroundings. If Harry had been a Death Eater, he would
have moved Heaven and Hell to make sure that he wasn't subjected to the
'Cruciatus' ever. It was a horrible experience, and the aftershocks were just as
terrible.
Green eyes looked up at his two friends. Theo, covered in blood, and Draco, who
was crying, both stared down at him with worry written on their faces.
"Can we go home now?" Harry whispered. He fought to sit up, and when he had
managed to climb to his unsteady feet, Draco held out his wand arm.
With a crack and a drawn out honking of it's horn, the Knight Bus appeared and
stopped before them. "Three to Little Whing...ing..." Harry trailed off, his eyes
widening.
Ernie, the driver, was looking out through the windscreen, not wanting anything to do
with what was happening. Stan had slunk away down to the other end of the bus and
was busy not looking over at them. In the threshold of the bus' doorway, Lucius
Malfoy folded his arms across his chest and appraised the three twelve-year-olds
through narrowed, angry eyes.
"What is the meaning of this?" He hissed. Draco flinched at the tone of his father's
voice, knowing full well that they were all in some serious trouble. Lucius' expression
softened as he took in the blood staining Theodore and the scarily familiar tremors
that Harry couldn't seem to fight off. "Get on the Bus," he ordered sternly, stepping
out of their way. "We'll talk about this later, make no mistake of that." He walked
towards one of the beds, his cane tapping against the floor. Lucius crossed his legs
when he sat, balancing his cane across his knees and folding his hands on top.
"Take a seat. It's a long ride to Surrey."
Draco had to help Harry to a bed, but when he was seated the boy scooted
sideways to rest against Lucius' side. Theodore's eyes widened at the action, but he
bit his tongue to avoid asking anything that would get him into even more trouble.

Lucius' right hand buried itself in Harry's hair, and the child let out a soft sigh before
his eyes slipped closed. As he slept, Harry escaped the tension that had spread
throughout the Bus. The other passengers had moved up to the second floor when
Lucius Malfoy had stepped on, resplendent in his expensive robes and his fury.
Draco and Theo sat stiffly, not enjoying the silence or Ernie's driving.
Lucius kept carding his hand through Harry's hair, though he never once looked
down at the child. Instead he looked over at Theodore.
"It was your father whom Crucioed Harry," he said, and it wasn't a question.
Theodore didn't need to answer him, but he nodded anyway, keeping his gaze
lowered. Draco was looking directly at his father though, and he smiled softly as
Lucius' face tightened in anger that wasn't directed at them.
Theaodore Nott was going to be a sorry man, Draco mused, chuckling softly.
"Cease laughing, Draco. You have nothing to be amused by. When we get home,
you are due at least ten lashes." Lucius said it calmly, ignoring the flinch Theodore
gave at the thought of physical punishment, and smirked as Draco began to scowl.
"Oh don't be like that, Dragon. What did you expect, running off like that? You'll all be
lucky if Evan doesn't torture you before I get around to using my cane on your
backside."
Draco pouted, looking quickly from Harry to Lucius. "Will Harry get caned too?" He
asked, sounding slightly hopeful.
"No. He is not my child to punish." Lucius tried not to flush, but the thought of having
Harry bent over his knee mewling was enough to arouse any red-blooded man. He
turned his face away to hide the redness on his cheeks, and missed the smug grin
that Draco was now sporting.
So he might get punished for helping Harry rescue a friend. His father would never
actually harm him, so it wasn't that big of a deal really. But this, this Draco could
work with. His father was blushing, over thoughts of Harry. That was blackmail
material for their next Diagon Alley visit!
Lucius paid no more attention to his son or his son's friend for the rest of the drive.
Instead, he tapped his fingers rhythmically against his knee, and the other hand kept
on petting Harry's hair. But it was when Lucius pressed a soft kiss to Harry's
forehead that the boy finally stopped trembling. He slept soundly, and Lucius didn't
even wake him when they arrived at their stop. He chose, instead, to carry Harry
Potter through the threshold of Number 4, Privet Drive.

Evan scowled at him, and then glared at the child.

"Inside. Now." He snarled.
XXX
1 " I don't know how to describe it. Lambeth Palace is sort of, actually, on a
riverfront. The other side of the Palace is surrounded by grass and walkways. It's
highly unlikely that there will be people around like I described. But, for my sake, let's
say there was Mass or a festival or something going on.
* * *
Thanks for reading. I'll try to update something soon, but life is failing right now. All I
want to do is sleep life away, and I can't, cause I don't have the time.

Chapter 23
If you loved me enough you would have seen the message I left at the bottom of my
profile on FFnet, so you'd know why I haven't been updating. Let's move on from that
now... I'm back. For a while. Until the exams anyway. Enjoy the chapter!
Oh, and RL friends suck ass! I need new friends! Don't you hate when someone
gets a boyfriend and suddenly doesn't have time for you anymore? And only ever
wants to see you if YOU are third wheel? FML.
* * *
Words: 4,522
Chapter 23
August 12th 1992.
The Hogwarts letters had arrived.
Three owls swooped in through the open window in the kitchen and dropped down
onto the table. Evan scowled at the birds, but he reached forward nonetheless to
relieve them of their burdens. Lucius held his hand out, taking the letter that was
meant for his son and reading over it in silence. Evan did the same with Harry's
letter, but the held Theodore's out without a word.
The three children were leaning against the kitchen counter, looking guilty and upset.
Theo quietly took his letter and read it, before handing it to his friends to read. Harry
and Draco shot each other quick glances, a half smile played over the blond's lips
before he caught his father's glare. Draco sighed loudly, rolling his eyes, and his
shoulders hunched over as he begun to sulk.
"Please father!" Harry whispered, blinking his eyes hopefully. "Oh please let us!"
Evan didn't even turn around to look at him. Harry frowned at the back of the man's
head, his fingers tapping nervously against his thighs.
"We discussed this last night, child." The man spoke softly, but Harry could still hear
the subtle anger in his tone. Draco had been spanked last night, Harry knew, but
Evan had yet to punish him. Harry knew Evan would never physically hurt him, not
after what Harry had been through with Vernon over the years, but that didn't mean
that Evan couldn't punish Harry in other, equally painful ways. "You are irresponsible
and irrational. The behaviour you all exhibited last night was impulsive and stupid,

and incredibly dangerous! If you are going to act like a child, my son, I will treat you
as one. Children do not have the privilege of attending Hogwarts, so why should you
have need to buy Hogwarts supplies?" He finally turned, meeting Harry's eyes in a
cold stare.
Harry lowered his in submission, ducking his head in shame. Beside him, the other
children who hadn't been told of Evan's decision gasped loudly.
"I'm sorry," Harry murmured.
"You can't keep him out of Hogwarts! You can't!" Draco cried, reaching over to
squeeze Harry's hand. "Father?" Grey eyes widened imploringly as Lucius turned his
head towards them.
The elder Wizard took a sip of his coffee and allowed a smile to tug at the corners of
his mouth. "As much as I would delight in Harry's company throughout the entire day
I'm afraid, Draco, you are right. Mr. Alfred is merely forbidding him from attending
Diagon Alley this summer. He is... grounded, I suppose." Draco's jaw dropped,
looking horribly surprised. "And so are you."
"WHAT?" The child shrieked. Lucius fingered the head of his cane, and Draco
immediately fell silent, biting down on his bottom lip.
"What about me?" Theodore whispered. He was shaking all over, eyeing Lucius'
cane with obvious fear.
"You are neither of our children to punish, Mr. Nott," Lucius said softly. He eyed the
boy in concern. "But as we intend to shop for our children, we may as well purchase
your supplies also."
"Unless you want to come alone with us?" Evan grinned at the child, baring his teeth.
Theo shook his head quickly, his eyes on the ground between him and the adults.
He didn't speak again until Lucius and Evan left the room.
"This is crap!" Draco scowled, throwing himself into one of the kitchen chairs. His
father would be disgusted by the boy's posture, but Draco felt rather smug with
himself and what he considered to be a mild act of rebellion. "How dare father
ground me? Wait until mother hears of this!"
"Are you going to tell her you ran away on the Knight Bus, broke into a hostile Death
Eater's home, kidnapped his son, and watched me get tortured after we all jumped
out of a window?" Draco remained silent. Harry grinned, "didn't think so."

"I- I don't think I thanked you," Theo whispered.

"No," Draco said with a scowl, "you didn't. And don't bother either. Look what came
of it?" He leant back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest, still scowling.
The adults had left the Hogwarts letters behind, and Draco grabbed his and
clenched it in his fist. "This is crap," he said again.
Harry smiled softly at him. "It's only three weeks, Draco. Hopefully they'll get sick of
us complaining by then."
"But," Theo said softly, "You shouldn't do that. Your f-fathers have punished you, you
have no right to argue with that punishment." He stumbled over the word 'father', his
eyes locking on Harry's face as he tried to puzzle out who exactly Evan Rosier was
to Harry Potter.
"Your father is an abusive prick. My father loves me." Draco said with a roll of his
eyes.
Harry chuckled lightly, smirking over at his friend. Draco simply glared back. "He has
a point though. I would never have talked back to my uncle, but with Tennyson,
there's a time and a place. Sometimes it's ok to argue, because that's what makes
you an individual person and not a clone or a servant or a house-elf."
"Not elves like yours though Nott!" Draco muttered. "There are times, mainly in
public places or you know when they are trying to save your life or something, when
we would listen without question."
"You'll get used to it, and to Tennyson. He's a bit much to take in at first, but I adore
him." Harry promised, squeezing Theo's shoulder.
"Why?" Draco hissed, eyes narrowed. "It's not like he's staying here! You can't
expect Mr. Alfred to take in every stray you pick up! What about the Mudblood?
Hmm? You expect her to live here too?"
Harry rolled his eyes, but Theodore didn't hear what he said in reply. He was too
busy staring at Evan Rosier, who was leaning against the kitchen door, and had
been previously unnoticed. The Death Eater held his finger to his mouth, and Theo
clamped his mouth shut. He didn't know who Tennyson Alfred was, other than the
fact that Harry lived with him and he was a friend of Lucius Malfoy's. Theaodore Nott
had never spoken about the man, even though they were both Death Eaters in the
higher circles and should have known each other, and Harry didn't seem inclined to
share all that much about his 'father' either. It made Theo suspicious. It also kind of
scared him a little too, but Harry obviously trusted the man and Harry had gone all

the way to Canterbury with Draco to rescue him, so Theo supposed he could hold
his tongue a little longer.
The twelve year old nodded at Evan, and turned away, forcing a smile as Harry
bumped his shoulder and said, "isn't that right, Theo?"
He hadn't been listening, and he didn't know how to answer. So he just grinned, and
shrugged, and let the other two boys start another argument over nothing.
XXX
August 19th 1992.
The week had passed quickly enough, but it wasn't fast enough for Draco. Lucius
had brought the boy home on Friday the 14th and had yet to let him go back to
Surrey to visit Harry and Theo. All three of the boys were still grounded, which for
Harry and Theo meant house arrest. Evan wouldn't even let them go as far as the
caf where Petunia worked! Every time they went into the garden, where the wards
would not detect their underage magic, Evan made sure to take their wands off of
them.
Harry had given up protesting. Begging hadn't swayed the man, nor had pouting or
crying, Draco had thrown the biggest temper tantrum in the world, completely with
kicking and screaming and exploding priceless heirlooms, and yet neither adult
Wizard had been moved. Each time the children had been met with level stares; cold
and unaffected and piercing, until eventually they had to look away from their
fathers, unable to keep their gazes any longer.
Being unbelievably bored out of their minds, Harry and Theo had completed all of
their summer assignments. Lucius had appeared with Severus one morning, both of
them ignoring Vernon Dursley who stood scowling in the background, and had
presented Theodore with a certificate, declaring him a Ward of the ministry, and his
trunk full of clothes and textbooks. Inside the trunk, unfortunately, was all of the
homework Theo was expected to have done by the first of September. They worked
on it together, and they exchanged owls with Draco and Lucius sometimes, and once
a Wizarding Services worker even came by to visit Theodore but she hadn't stayed
long.
It had made Harry wonder why, though, no one from Wizarding Services had ever
visited him as a child.
Harry looked over at his friend. Theodore was staring at him, and had been for the
last hour and a half. Harry had finally decided to tell Theo the truth about Vernon and

Evan and Tennyson, and Theo had taken it well at first. But then it had actually
Isunk/I in, and ever since Harry had felt eyes burning holes in the back of his head.
"I'm trying to read here, Theo!" The child saviour hissed, narrowing his eyes at his
friend.
Brown eyes widened, "I can't believe you live with Evan Rosier! He's supposed to be
dead! He's meant to be horrible! Everyone was afraid of him!"
"Yes," Harry said, sounding rather put-upon, "you've told me twelve times already,
thanks."
The bedroom door opened and cut off anything that Theo was going to say in
response. Evan stood there, looking between the two of them quickly before settling
his gaze on Theo.
"Make yourself presentable. The Ministry requires your presence." He said shortly.
He made his way into the room and paused beside Harry. The boy looked up and
smiled widely, leaning forward so that Evan didn't have to reach far to cup his cheek.
"I presume you will be fine alone for an hour at the most? I need to apparate him to
Malfoy Manor and apparate him back when he and Lucius are finished at the
Ministry."
"I'll be fine!" Harry said softly, still smiling. Evan's thumb pressed gently across
Harry's cheek, almost like a caress, and Theo's eyes locked onto the movement.
"Be good." Evan warned, turning sharply to pin Theo with a narrowed eyed stare.
"Are you ready?"
Theo sort of wanted to brush his teeth again, before going to the Ministry, and he
wanted to change his robes and socks. But he didn't want to admit that he had been
too busy staring at the couple, watching them interact, even though he knew Evan
probably had noticed. So he just nodded furiously, and silently followed Evan from
the room. Harry watched them from the top of the stairs, leaning over the balcony as
Theodore went towards the garden as if it were a gallows. With one last look over his
bony shoulder, Theodore smiled at Harry and gritted his teeth. The moment he
stepped outside, Evan apparated him away.
Harry sat back on the top step of the stairs. He rested his hands on his knees and
sighed loudly. This was the first time he had really been alone since they had gone
to rescue Theo, and it felt a little unusual. Harry half wished Evan had brought Draco
over when he had come to collect Theodore, but then again, if Draco was here Harry
would never finish the book he was reading. Evan wanted a report on the principles

of transcendentalism, which was philosophical and therefore rather confusing, done

before Harry headed back to Hogwarts. The book had 216 pages and Harry had only
read about 50 so far.
He snorted lightly. "I'm screwed," he whispered to himself, a little annoyed over the
fact that Evan even wanted him to learn about something so obscure and useless!
"That's what I get for telling him I had finished all of my summer work, I suppose." He
mumbled, as he headed back towards his bedroom.
Harry stopped short at the threshold. Green eyes widened in shock and he took an
involuntary step backwards. There was a house elf in his bedroom; one he didn't
recognize. The creature tilted its head to one side when it noticed Harry, studying the
child curiously as it blinked its large tennis-ball eyes. Wrinkled hands smoothes
down the pink pillowcase it wore, palms pressing against the gold and turquoise 'G'
engraved on its chest, and then it bowed at the waist.
"Harry Potter," the house elf drawled. "I'm so excited to meet you." It spoke English
perfectly, so unlike Misery and Ruin and Dobby. Harry frowned at the creature that
had jogged forward and taken hold of his left arm. Its fingers were pressed against
his left forearm: pressing against where the Dark Mark would have gone should
Harry ever choose to be marked, rubbing the clothed skin almost reverently. "There
is someone else who would like to meet you." Yellow eyed rolled once in their
sockets and fluttered closed. When they opened again, they were red. The House
Elf's mouth was wide with a smile, teeth displayed, as nails bit into Harry's skin.
"He's half-dead from anticipation, Harry. It's been such a long time."
Harry opened his mouth. The sight of those red eyes staring at him had him flinching
backwards, struggling to free his arm from the elf's surprisingly strong grip. Without a
sound, the Elf disappeared from the room. And it took Harry with him.
XXX
Same time.
Harry blinked slowly, trying to get used to the sudden light that was blinding him. He
didn't know where he was, but he definitely wasn't in Kansas anymore. The elf was
waiting patiently beside him, one hand still locked onto his arm, and Harry tugged
harshly, trying to free himself. The house elf didn't so much as sway at the
movement. Instead it turned its yellow eyes up to meet Harry's gaze and smiled
warmly.
"This way now, please, Mr. Potter." It pulled Harry out from where they had been
standing. Harry looked around in confusion, surprised to find them coming out from a

small alleyway between two shops on Diagon Alley! How the hell did the House Elf
apparate inside of the Alley? "My magic is a special kind, Harry," the house elf
murmured as if it had read Harry's thoughts. "We can do things here that Wizards
can't, that Wizards won't, that some would never dare."
Harry's eyes narrowed. He had been listening intently, following without protest, but
when the house elf had switched from using the word 'Wizards' to 'some' it put the
child on edge. "Who are you?" Harry asked lowly, not wanting anyone to overhear
the conversation just in case he was right. "What are you?"
The elf laughed; its head thrown back and mouth wide open. It didn't stop walking or
slow down though, and Harry nearly had to jog to keep up. "I am a house elf." The
creature said, glancing at Harry from the corner of his eyes. "My new name is
'Fluturim e Vdekjes'1. I cannot remember my old name."
"Can't remember?" Harry asked softly, "or was made to forget?" The elf laughed
louder this time, as it steered Harry into Flourish & Blotts, but it didn't answer the
question either way. Harry took that to mean the second answer was probably
nearer to the truth.
"FLUT!" Someone called, sounding furious. Harry looked around, searching for the
voice and his eyes widened as they landed on Gilderoy Lockhart. The man was
classically handsome, with shinny white teeth, golden hair and a perfect smile, but at
the moment he looked terrible. Anger marred his perfect features, and he pushed
through the crowd of simpering girl-fans to grab hold of his house elf's arm.
The moment there was skin on skin contact, the elf lost its calm composure and
begun to tremble and stutter sounding just like all of the other house elves Harry had
ever met. Lockhart, on the other hand, calmed down almost immediately. Pretty blue
eyes pierced Harry's soul; gazing into him with such purpose that Harry actually felt
a headache coming on. He finally managed to yank his arm out of Flut's grip, and
used that hand to rub at his forehead.
"Ah!" Lockhart said. Harry's eyes narrowed. Earlier, even while furious, Gilderoy's
voice was light and airy, but now there was a different feel to it: something deeper
and darker, but somehow more pleasing. "I've been waiting a long time to meet you,
Harry Potter." He held out his hand, and Harry did as manners dictated he do. He
shook the hand, wincing as Lockhart gripped his fingers tightly. When Harry tried to
pull away, he found he couldn't. It was just like when Fluturim had been dragging him
along by the arm.
Harry narrowed his eyes again. "Who are you? Why did your house elf kidnap me?"

"Oh Harry!" The man said lightly, waving his free hand dismissively. "We have all
year to get to know one another," he said this casually, but there was a look in his
eyes, as he let them travel across Harry's face before settling on his scar, that Harry
didn't like. "I'm your new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor!"
Lockhart pulled Harry through the crowd, making his way back to the middle of the
bookshop's ground floor. The house elf trailed silently behind them, but whenever
Harry chanced a glance backwards, the creature began shaking and refused to meet
his eyes.
"It's good to finally meet you Harry. There's so much I want to talk about with you!"
It was starting to creep Harry out, the way Lockhart was looking at him. It was almost
as if the man was devouring every inch of him with his blue eyes, looking for flaws
and imperfections, while cataloguing all of his best points. Harry wasn't sure if he felt
more like a piece of meat waiting to be sold off or an animal to be bred. If it had been
Lucius staring at him, Harry's first thought with have immediately been that the blond
was attracted to him, but Gilderoy's gaze wasn't quite like that. Harry was a pretty
boy (unfortunately, he felt), but there seemed to be a different motivation behind the
elder Wizard's actions than simply lust.
"Right. Nice to meet you too, but I really have to go now." Harry went to move away,
but Lockhart tugged on his hand.
Harry ended up stumbling forward, falling against the man's chest. Lockhart caught
him easily, and he gave Harry a wide smile, before turning his face just in time for
the cameras to start flashing. Gilderoy almost preened before the press and the fans
and the cameras, and all the while he held Harry tucked against his chest.
At one point, he bent his head to whisper into Harry's ears, "do you keep a diary,
little one? I find that it is a... release, of sorts. Maybe you should try it." There was a
shark like grin on his mouth and Fluturim, who was standing behind them, gave a
horrified squeak. For a second, Harry thought that there was something wrong with
Lockhart's eyes, but then the cameras started going off again and he couldn't see
much more than a white light as photo after photo blinded him.
It was almost an hour later before Lucius and Evan entered the shop. Both men
froze in the doorway, sensing that something was different about the store. The
journalists were still crowding en mass around Harry and Lockhart. The child had
handprint shaped bruises around the tops of both arms and on his shoulders from
where Gilderoy had held him tightly. When he caught sight of his father, he waved
his arm frantically.

Vernon Dursley stalked towards them, Lucius following furiously in his wake.
"Unhand. My. Nephew." He said through gritted teeth, pulling his wand on the
smirking blond Wizard.
A laugh, the same laugh that the house elf had given when Harry asked what it was,
echoed through the room. 2"Mos budalla, Evan," the Hogwarts Professor whispered
so low that only Rosier could hear him.
Evan's eyes narrowed in contemplation. He looked between Harry and Lockhart with
a frown on his mouth, and the conclusion he came to was obviously not a pleasant
one, because he lowered his wand and ducked his head. He gritted his teeth.
"My behaviour was uncalled for," he forced out after a moment of silence. "Harry,
come now."
Harry tugged at the hand on his shoulder, and it fell away easily. The child moved
towards Evan and Lucius, both of whom looked a little confused and uneasy, and
rather annoyed. "What's going on?"
"Get out." Evan hissed at the child. He didn't know how Harry had gotten to Diagon
Alley, but he could guess it had something to do with the smirking author in front of
him. The house elf at the man's side trembled harder as Harry got further and further
away from them. Lucius had followed the boy, waiting down the street for Evan to
join them. "Who are you?" Evan asked slowly, half knowing the answer already.
Perfect white teeth exposed themselves as Lockhart pulled his lips back. It was less
of a smile, and more like a face someone would pull while they were being tortured,
and Evan felt a chill go down his spine. If this wasn't who he thought it was, Evan
didn't know what he would do. He wanted so badly to be right. He wanted this to be"
Red eyes flashed at him in warning. "It's a surprise."
Evan gave a grin to match the other Wizard's. The Death Eater's shoulders
straightened in relief and his eyes brightened in excitement, having received a
positive answer to his suspicions.
Now there was only one thing to worry about.
"And Harry?" Evan asked, crossing the fingers of one hand behind his back.
Gilderoy tilted his head to one side, studying Evan carefully. 3"Un do t'i jap dobi t
dyshimit pr hir tuaj, Muggle." A blond eyebrow rose in distaste, and blue eyes ran
over the form of Vernon Dursley.

Inside, Evan was grinning. But in response he merely shrugged. "Beggars can't be
choosers," he said at last, before tucking his wand into his pocket. Then he turned
and shouted at the nearest store clerk, demanding three sets of Hogwarts Second
year books.
"Here," Lockhart said. He handed over a full collection of Gilderoy Lockhart's works,
the top one covered in squiggles and lines that Evan couldn't understand but it
looked like a badly done signature. "This set is for Harry. Make sure he receives it."
Evan tilted his head forward; the miniscule motion going unnoticed by the others
surrounded them, but Lord Voldemort gave a pleased smirk nonetheless.
XXX
August 24th 1992.
Harry could still remember the last time he had broken into Lucius' office. Well, the
last time he hadn't actually broken in. He had been playing hide-and-seek with Draco
and something within the room had called to him, and the wards had fallen around
the door just as Harry had touched it. This time, Harry had left his bed fully intending
on sneaking into Lucius' study.
The diary would be inside.
Harry knew where Lucius kept it hidden, and he had known since he overheard the
elder Wizards talking about the diary and the house elf that it was important
somehow. Lord Voldemort had told him to keep a diary, and what better one to keep
than the one Lucius guarded so carefully? It might have been stupid, to steal the
diary Voldemort (while possessing a house elf) had told Lucius to take care of, but
then again why would Voldemort hint about the diary unless he wanted Harry to have
it?
Harry stopped before the study door, his wand dangling loosely from his fingers. He
didn't know how to dismantle wards. His plan had been stupid and compulsive, and
he suddenly felt unworthy of his Ravenclaw title. His free hand clenched at his side
in frustration. He pressed his forehead against the door, and took two deep breaths
to calm himself.
"I'll just try the lock," he whispered to himself. His hand closed around the doorknob
and jiggled it. Harry knew for a fact that the door was locked because he had hidden
behind a tapestry as Lucius locked and warded the room. The door swung open
silently, and Harry let his hand drop to his side limply. "Oh," he gasped, taking a slow
step into the room.

As soon as he was over the threshold, he could feel it. There was darkness
somewhere in this room, and it curled through the air like a fog towards him and
hovered around his head and hands. Unconsciously, his feet moved forward, until he
found himself crouched in front of the desk drawers. Without a word, one drawer
clicked open, as if someone had cast an 'Alhomora' on it, but there was no one in
the room but Harry.
A small black diary sat innocently inside the drawer. Harry stared down at it, trying to
see why something so pointless could be considered important to the Dark Lord.
What could it be that made this little book useful? It didn't look like much, but
perhaps something important was written inside.
Harry slowly pulled the book from the drawer and began to flick through its pages.
His forehead creased in confusion as page after page appeared to be blank.
"Worthless," the boy scoffed, throwing the book down onto the desk. Unfortunately,
the diary bounced into a vial of ink, knocking them both onto the ground. The vial
shattered and soaked Harry's shoes and the diary in dark purple ink. "'Evanesco',"
Harry said twice, cleaning the ink off of his feet and the floor. But the ink remained on
the cover of the diary.
Harry picked it up, wiping at it with his sleeve. He flicked it open again to check how
badly damaged the pages were, and his mouth dropped open in surprise as crisp,
yellow pages fluttered under his fingertips. They were unblemished and dry, just like
they had been when Harry had first opened it.
Curiosity welled up within him, and Harry couldn't help himself as he grabbed one of
Lucius' quills and messily wrote, "where did the ink go?" onto one of the pages.
I absorbed it, the diary wrote back almost instantly.
"Curious and curiouser," Harry mused, a small smile tugging at his mouth. He tucked
the diary into his bathrobe pocket, and quickly cleaned up the mess he had made.
He hoped Lucius wouldn't notice anything amiss in the morning as he pulled the
door closed behind him, feeling the wards snap into place again. As he climbed into
bed, Harry lay the diary down onto the pillow beside his head. One hand traced the
faint gold letters on the cover, reading, 'T. M. Riddle', and he said, "Maybe you aren't
so worthless after all."
XXX
1 " "Fluturim e Vdekjes": it means 'Flight of Death' in Albanian. Do you think Harry
will figure it out?

2 " According to the same translation website, "Mos budalla" means 'don't be a fool'
in Albanian. There wasn't a word for 'Evan'.
3 " "un do t'i jap dobi t dyshimit pr hir tuaj" apparently means 'I will give him the
benefit of the doubt for your sake' in Albanian. Do remember that Voldemort was
someone that Evan counted as a friend, and vice versa. Evan was the only Death
Eater who was never afraid of the Dark Lord. As such, it is probably safe to assume
that since Voldemort spent time in Albania, before and after his defeat by Harry,
Evan would have attempted to learn the language with his friend. Perhaps they
holidayed together? Sipping cocktails, torturing Muggles and planning world
domination while kidnapping snakes from an Albanian forest!
* * *
Thanks for reading. Please review? I'm going to try and update Brothers in Arms
this weekend, and then work on Chapter 3 of The Abyss. Any new one-shots that
have been promised will have to wait until after my exams; sorry, but I'll have more
time then! All summer in fact!
Also PLEASE TAKE THE POLL ON MY PROFILE!
Summary: [Dean/Castiel] Mary didn't go into the nursery that night. 22 years later
Azazel starts looking for one of his 'special children', and Dean is left to pick up the
pieces. People are dying, Angels are appearing, and Seals are breaking. It's up to
Dean to save the world apparently, but he can't. He isn't strong enough. And anyway,
he has to save his family first... and sort out his feelings about a certain guardian
angel of his.

Chapter 24
I'm in love with this: http:// s8219 . net/TMR /Archive /ijkl /HPATJHLadyKdAzrael .
html (remove spaces!) It's a series. Also, special shout-out to Mr Galion at AFF for
their review from chapter 23!
Wow this chapter came sooner than any of you expected huh? Eh, that was sarcasm
in case you missed it. I STILL HAVE EXAMS! But I really, really felt the need to
procrastinate.
ENJOY! Grin.
Words: 3,614
Chapter 24
August 31st 1992.
It was the last day before Hermione had to leave for Hogwarts. She would be turning
thirteen in two and a half weeks, and her parents wanted to celebrate the occasion
with her. As a result, Mr. and Mrs. Granger had decided to throw a 'surprise' birthday
party, though it wasn't much of a surprise since they needed Hermione to invite
Harry herself.
"Here you go, Mione," he said softly, handing her over the neatly wrapped box.
She smiled warmly as she took it, but didn't move to hug Harry, as she had done
with her other friends. Harry was the only magical person there. Most of Hermione's
guests were the children of her parents' friends, or her cousins, or Muggles who
lived on her street. Theodore hadn't been invited and didn't feel comfortable going
with Harry when he had asked. Draco certainly hadn't been invited, and when
Hermione mentioned that Muggles would be present Harry decided not to even
mention the party to his friend.
As Harry was still grounded, it had taken quite a lot of begging and pleading for Evan
to allow him to go. Even then, it had only been allowed after Harry had promised to
be accompanied at all times.
The green and brown butterfly sat lightly on top of Harry's head. Whenever the boy
moved too fast, it slid to the side, looking to the rest of the guests as if Harry had a
clip fastened above his ear. If was only when no one was looking that Harry prodded
Evan back up, until he was sitting safely on the flat part of his head.

"Oh that's lovely," Hermione said, pointing at the butterfly. "Where did you buy it? Is it
some sort of tradition, because I've never seen many boys wearing such girlish clips
before? I've never read about anything of the sort."
"It was a gift," Harry said simply. He grabbed Hermione's wrist as she raised her
hand to touch Evan, and he squeezed lightly. She gave him a small smile, lowering
her eyes apologetically and, when he let her go, her arm dropped to her side.
"Thank you for the gift." She smiled at him once more before turning and heading
into the kitchen. She placed the box on the countertop and turned around with a
plate in her hand. "Would you like some cake?"
Harry still wasn't sure whether or not to consider her his friend. She was nosy and
bossy and she kept trying to touch him, but she was a good person where it counted.
And maybe that was her problem? If Harry joined Voldemort (which was looking
more and more likely since Voldemort was sort of back and hadn't tried to kill him
yet), where would Hermione figure into his life? She wasn't Death Eater material, but
then again neither was Theodore. The difference between them was their blood
statuses; Theodore might not want to be a Death Eater, but he was Pureblood and
would serve his Lord and his family regardless. Hermione was a Mudblood. What
use could she be to anyone? She was clever. She was magically powerful, not as
much as Harry or Draco, but at least she was stronger than Ron!
Harry gritted his teeth. He shook his head, softly so as not to dislodge Evan, and he
pushed the thoughts from his mind. He was counting his chickens before they
hatched, and it was ridiculous of him to do so. Voldemort had not called on him
however; he was still neutral, still free. He didn't need to choose his alliances yet.
There was still time.
"Yes, thanks. I would love some cake."
Hermione grinned widely at him, and handed him the plate with a large slice of
Chocolate Fudge on top. There was whipped cream at one side, and caramel sauce
on the other, and Harry felt his mouth watering. She must have prepared it while he
was wool gathering, he thought as he reached out to take the plate.
"Oh, hello," someone said from behind him.
Harry turned slowly, fork in his mouth and smiled around it as Hermione's mother
held out her hand to him. He swallowed the cake, feeling rather plebeian as he
lowered the fork and placed it silently onto his paper plate. He reached out with his
free hand for hers and raised it to his mouth. One soft kiss later he said, "hello Mrs.
Granger. How are you?"

"Oh." She said, sounding surprised but delighted. Her eyes lingered on the back of
her own hand, round with amusement. "I'm very well, young man?" She made it
sound like a question, and Hermione's mouth dropped open as she realised what
her mother was asking.
"Oh of course. Mum, this is Harry Potter. You know, from school. Harry this is my
mother, and my father is over there." She pointed at a tall man with the same colour
hair as Hermione. He seemed to know they were looking at him, because he turned
away from whatever he was doing and waved quickly.
The sun had finished setting by the time Mr Granger made his way towards them.
Harry was standing awkwardly, scrapping at his empty plate with his fork in
boredom, while mother and daughter talked about nothing beside him. Every now
and then, one would turn and say, "don't you think so?" and Harry, having no idea
what they were discussing would just agree hurriedly and then be forgotten about
again for a few minutes. He couldn't walk away. Firstly it would be rude to slight the
birthday guest and secondly there was no one else here that he could talk to.
He could imagine what Evan was thinking, and he allowed a smirk to tug at his lips
as he imagined Evan's low, dry tone whispering, "and you thought this would be fun,
because?" in his ear.
"Something funny Harry?" Hermione's father asked him.
"Oh no, sir, just letting my mind wander. My apologies." He smiled winningly, and
both of Hermione's parents smiled back, but the Witch herself looked at him
suspiciously, knowing better than to take his words at face value.
"What is wrong?" She whispered. Her parents had finally left. Her father had gone to
set up the fireworks display,1 now that it was dark enough for them, and her mother
was gossiping with some late arrival.
I'm bored shitless, I want to go home, why oh why did I come here in the first place?
Surrounded by Muggles I have no interest in conversing with, without my real
friends, how did I imagine this would be fun? he thought to himself. But he said,
instead, "oh just imagining what Draco would have thought of this. A Muggle party. I
doubt he'd ever go to one, ever. It might have been funny."
"Well, no it wouldn't have. He would have just insulted everyone!" Hermione
murmured, looking murderous at the thought of Draco being introduced to her
parents.

"Yes but that is fun for Draco, isn't it?"

The first set of fireworks hit the sky and exploded, raining down coloured sparks and
hypnotising fire. Harry's eyes were fixed on them, watching wide-eyed as rocket after
rocket launched and exploded, lighting up the darkness and hiding the stars
momentarily from sight. Someone made his or her way towards him, and beside him
Hermione gave a pained moan, but Harry ignored it. Maybe the sound was too loud
for her, or something?
"Oh Harry!" A horridly family voice cooed, "I just knew you would be here!"
Harry gritted his teeth, one hand straying to his pocket to brush lightly over his wand,
even though he couldn't use it. Ron Weasley stared back, face open and smiling,
and his hands free of cards or gifts for the birthday girl.
Instead he handed Harry a card. "Heard I missed your birthday, sorry mate."
Harry stared at it, waiting for the card to bite or scratch him. When it did nothing, he
reached out and pinched it between the tips of his thumb and forefinger and held it
as far from his body as possible. "Um. Yeah, thanks? What are you doing here?"
"Came to see if you were here, of course." He grinned, flicking his red hair out of his
eyes before turning to stare at Hermione. "Oi Granger, go get us a drink or
something, yeah?" And then he turned his back on her, dismissing her completely.
He only had eyes for Harry. Ron figured that trying to be Hermione's friend had
finally paid off; she had done her job. His knowing her had finally got him into Harry's
presence.
A moment later, Hermione tapped him on the shoulder. Ron turned, hand
outstretched for his drink, and waited. Instead of giving it to him, Hermione threw the
contents of the cup at his face, smiling widely as she watched him blink and
stammer, mortified.
"Bitch," he hissed at her. "Did you see what she did Harry? Harry...?" Ron turned
back around, mouth falling open in bemusement. Harry was nowhere in sight.
Hermione watched the garden door closing, knowing full well that Harry was
probably on his way out of the front door by then, but she said nothing about the
escape to Ron. Instead, she glared at him, her mouth turned down into a sever
frown.
"Get out of my house. Now, Weasley!" Then she turned her back on him, and left
him there, with the eyes of all of Hermione's guests on his red face.

XXX
September 1st 1992.
Harry was lucky to have found a compartment to himself. The Hogwarts Express
seemed busier than it had last year, and students meandered through the halls and
their parents along platform nine and three-quarters noisily.
Draco and Theo were sitting somewhere else, Harry assumed, but he had arrived
late just as the whistle was blowing and so he hadn't managed to meet up with them.
Harry had walked past the various compartments, peering inside for his friends,
wishing he could find somewhere quiet to sit alone, and then the couple in this
compartment had stood up suddenly and walked away with all of their belongings.
Not one to look a gift-Thestral in the mouth, Harry had hurried inside and locked the
door.
The diary was open on his lap, but as the train pulled away from the station Harry
only stared at it. What he was meant to do with it he didn't know, but obviously it was
somehow important to Lord Voldemort.
Harry bit his bottom lip. It would be best to start with the important question, he
supposed. "Do you belong to Lord Voldemort?", he wrote, his writing messy as the
carriage jerked from side to side as the train picked up speed.
"Why would you ask such a thing?", was the answer he received.
This was the first time, since the first time in Lucius' study that he had communicated
with the diary. He had searched through all of his books for any information of
relevance, and he had even managed to look through Lucius' library, but there had
been so many books and such little time that he hadn't actually found any helpful
information whatsoever.
He supposed he had better introduce himself at long last.
"My name is Harry Potter."
"Sorry," the diary wrote back immediately. "Can't say I've heard of you. What year is
it?"
"1992, September. It's the first day of Hogwarts. You know of Hogwarts, of course?
You must if you belonged to Lord Voldemort. But, well, he hasn't been around in a
long time so you're probably really old, right? I doubt whatever magic made you
updates itself as the years go by?"

There were a few minutes where nothing was written. It was almost as if the book
was thinking, allowing this new information a moment to sink in and process before it
could decide what to say.
"1992? My, my, it has been a very long time. It was 1943 when I was created, since I
was last in use. How time does fly. Yes, I once belonged to the Dark Lord, he and I
were once close, that might be a fitting way to describe our relationship to a stranger
I think. Now, explain who you might be? Are you... a friend?"
Harry could almost taste the hesitancy in the last few words. T. M. Riddle, for it was
the only name Harry knew the diary by, seemed curious of him, yet wary. And Harry
couldn't blame him for that. If Harry were a magically enchanted artefact that
belonged to a Dark Lord and suddenly ended up in the possession of someone
heralded to defeat said Dark Lord while missing out on near fifty years of his 'life',
Harry wouldn't be keen to make friends of strangers either.
"I'm a friend", he told the diary without hesitation. Then, he wondered why he had
said that. Wasn't he just saying to himself a day ago that he didn't even know if he
wanted to join Voldemort? Why was he now telling Voldemort's potentially only
friend, bar Evan, that they were allies? Harry scoffed to himself. Of course they were
allies. He would never align himself with the Light, regardless of whether he chose to
be a Death Eater or not. It was Voldemort's side or his own side, but never a side
against Voldemort and by association his family and friends. "What is your name?",
he asked, trying to push away his thoughts.
The compartment door swung open, and Harry slammed the diary shut, quill trapped
between its pages.
"I locked that door," Harry said lowly, narrowing his eyes at the uninvited visitor.
"Oh, I know, but I asked one of the Prefects to unlock it for me." The girl was a first
year, easily recognizable by the lack of a House crest on her robes. She had a long
mane of flame-red hair, and wide brown eyes with a splash of freckles across her
nose. If not for her resemblance to a Weasley, Harry might have said she was sort of
pretty. "I'm Ginny by the way. I saw you on the platform, but I couldn't get to you
before you boarded the train. Ron has been speaking about you all summer. He
writes home about you too, you know. I feel as if I know you already! I'm sure we'll
be great friends."
Harry frowned at her. His mind was blank, and he struggled to understand what this
girl wanted from him. "You're Ronald's sister then?" He asked at last.
"Yes." She smiled at him, a blush staining her cheeks. She reached forward

hesitantly, clasping Harry's hand in hers for just a second before he ripped it from her
grasp. She gasped at his abrupt movement, but her hurt was swept away by her
sudden curiosity. "What's this? Do you write about your friends in here? Do you write
about me?" She asked coyly, before she snatched the diary from his lap. Ginny
flicked through its blank pages, then stopped to read the only words written in the
book.
"My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle", it said. She repeated the words out loud.
"That isn't your name, silly." She wagged a finger teasingly at him, smiling widely.
Harry reached forward, arm striking out like a snake, fingers sinking like fangs into
the edge of the diary, and he yanked it away. Ginny shrieked as the paper cut her
fingers, and drops of blood blossomed like a blooming rose onto the page then
disappeared as Tom devoured it like he had the ink.
"Don't touch my things. You are not welcome here, now get out." Harry hissed
angrily, glaring at the shaking girl. Ginny looked afraid, and she clutched her
bleeding fingers to her chest as she ran from the compartment.
"Whose blood was that?" Tom questioned, in his increasingly familiar curvaceous
writing.
"Just some girl. Why?" Harry waited for Tom to answer him. But no answer was
forthcoming. He tried again, merely writing Tom's name with a question mark, and
waited. But again he was ignored. So he put the diary away and tucked the quill
behind his ear, and closed his eyes. His friends would probably come looking for him
soon. Tom would reply soon. Harry merely had to have patience.
XXX
September 2nd 1992.
The Great Hall was crowed. To Harry it appeared to be bursting at the seams, full of
children and teachers, and there was Gilderoy Lockhart at the Head Table shining
like a magenta beacon. Harry sat silently beside Draco, his eyes fixed on the blue
eyes that were purposely avoiding his gaze, and he ignored the sounds of his
housemates eating.
For some reason they had been sent to bed the night before early, and the Sorting
had been postponed until that morning. The rumour going around was that the
Weasley twins had somehow managed to sneak into Headmaster Dumbledore's
office and stead the Sorting Hat. Harry didn't pay any attention to the rumour,
because if Fred and George really had done it, they would have made sure that

everyone knew it.

That morning the Sorting had seemed to take forever, and yet only a handful of the
new students joined Slytherin. Ginny Weasley had managed to catch his eye as the
Hat was pulled from her head, and she had grinned at him while Harry had remained
blank-faced until she looked away with a blush. She sat now, at the Gryffindor table
beside Ron, staring in his direction.
A handful of people waved at him, or muttered hello to him as they walked past him
on their way from the hall, and Harry turned in his seat to answer politely. His eyes
flicked around the Hall, searching out two of his 'friends' that he had yet to come
across.
"Has anyone seen the Weasley twins?" He asked a few minutes later, as Theodore
was getting up to leave.
Terrence Nott, Theo's older brother who had previously been home schooled, had
been sent to Slytherin (the only student to ever be sorted at the age of fourteen), and
he stood as his brother did. After rescuing Theodore from his father, Draco and
Harry hadn't really paid much mind to his elder and much more abused brother. But
in the three weeks since then Lucius had been happily throwing his weight around
the Ministry, and now Theaodore Nott was unhappily waiting in Azkaban until his
sentencing. With no one else to mind them, Terrence and Theodore had become
wards of the Ministry, and with no one to stop him Terrence had pleaded for the right
to attend Hogwarts. Though he was very reluctant to wander the halls without his
brother at his side.
"I heard they missed the train," a girl further up the table shouted down at him.
"No!" Someone else hissed, "Their parents couldn't pay their tuition, so the board of
governors threw them out!"
Draco rolled his eyes, and lazily rose to his feet. "Don't be ridiculous. If they were
going to throw any of those useless excuses for Wizards out they would have started
with Ronald." He gave a smug smirk as most of the table turned as one to watch the
flush make its way across Ron's face. The redhead scowled back, but his sister's
hand on his arm kept him in his seat.
Harry followed his friends from the Hall, ignoring the feeling of Lockhart's eyes on his
back, and once they reached the threshold he paused. "Ugh. Has anyone seen
Snape?"
Before any more could be said, Professor Snape practically ran them down. He

rushed through the corridor, the Weasley twins trailing behind him sullenly, but they
flashed Harry identical grins when Snape wasn't looking.
"Hey," one said softly.
"Hi," the other said, grinning.
"We flew to school," they said together.
Severus whirled around on his heels, eyes narrowed and face pinched in anger and
threw a copy of the 'Daily Prophet' at them. "You were seen!"
Harry bent slowly, trying to keep out of Snape's field of vision. He grabbed the paper
off of the floor where George had let it fall and he held it out so that Draco could read
it too. The top of the front page was emblazoned with the words "Hogwarts students
seen in flying car!" and underneath was a picture of a blue Ford, one redhead at the
wheel, and the other (though Harry didn't know which one was which) waving out of
the window.
"They are in so much trouble," Draco muttered, once the trio were out of sight.
Harry stared down the hallway that Snape had headed in, and he smirked at the
thought of it not being him in trouble for once. "I bet they'll love every moment of it."
Theo finally got the children moving in the direction of the Slytherin dormitory. The
small group of students who had crowded around when Snape had started
screaming had dispersed by the time Lockhart made his way from the Hall. The
Professor stared at Harry's retreating back, he grinned widely in dark amusement as
he felt the familiar throbbing in his chest that only occurred when in the presence of
one of his Horcruxes. Red eyes fixed on the deep pocket in Harry's expensive black
robe, and Lord Voldemort knew that his diary was within it. He tapped his own
pocket lightly, checking, and was satisfied when he felt the obvious shape of a small
book beneath his hand. So far, he hadn't learnt anything he didn't already know. But
he was patient.
He could wait.
XXX
1 " When I was a kid, not as far back as 1992 though I'm afraid, I used to have
fireworks at my birthday parties, and so did most of my friends. But I understand,
that now apparently you need a license? Or at least you do in Ireland as of a few
years ago... Private individuals can't buy them anymore. Which sucks. But yeah, no

one give out about the fireworks being illegal, cause they weren't in the late 1990's,
let alone the early years.
Thanks for reading. Pretty please review? Bats eyelashes... I really need to update
The Abyss. Did you know it was recommended at a Finnish forum/thing? (The link is
in my profile) How cool is that? XD I'm still updating New Divide once a fortnight,
and am on chapter 04 of 16 right now, if anyone hasn't noticed.

Chapter 25
Right...When I updated New Divide last week, someone mentioned they would have
liked a summary... So, ima do one for Butterfly at least.
Last time: Harry is in 2nd year now. They celebrated Hermione's birthday early, and
Ron gate-crashed the party. Harry and Draco kidnapped Theo from his father, and
Harry was tortured a little. Theaodore is now waiting for punishment from the
ministry, and Terrance has started Hogwarts. The Weasley Twins flew their father's
car to Hogwarts, and were caught by Snape. Harry has Voldemort for a Defence
Professor, who also happened to have kidnapped him over the summer via Gilderoy
Lockhart's house elf. Evan is very happy with himself for meeting Voldemort, and
explained to Harry who he was, etc. Harry stole the diary from Lucius, and Ginny
bled on it...
Words: 1,764
Chapter 25
September 3rd 1992.
They were on their way to their first Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Harry
hadn't seen the Weasley twins since the night before, but that wasn't surprising since
none of his classes so far were with the Gryffindors and the Weasley twins were
actually two years ahead of him. He hadn't heard any rumours about them being
expelled at any rate, so he decided not to worry. Instead, he'd worry about taking
lessons with Professor Lockhart.
They hadn't had the best first meeting. Over the summer, Lockhart's house elf had
kidnapped Harry from Malfoy Manor and brought him to a book-signing in Diagon
Alley. Gilderoy had flaunted him in front of the press and the crowd, and, it appeared
to Harry at least, threatened Evan and Lucius a little when they arrived to take him
home. He could understand why though, after Evan had explained it to him. But that
didn't excuse the fact that Lord Voldemort had kidnapped him from his friend's home,
somewhere he was meant to be safe, without any difficulty. Harry wasn't exactly
excited by the prospect of spending an entire year with Voldemort. He hadn't yet
decided on his loyalties, but he knew he didn't want to oppose the Dark Lord. But...
did he want to spend an entire year being tested for loyalties or skills he had yet to
develop?
Harry looked up as someone cleared their throat. At his side, Draco gave him a soft
nudge and chuckled lightly. "Looks like someone has a fan club," the blond

whispered.
Standing in front of him, red cheeked and holding a Muggle camera, a mousy-haired
boy said, "hi. You're Harry Potter."
"Hello," Harry answered politely, his gaze flicking between the camera and the boy's
plain face.
"I'm C-Colin Creevey," the boy stuttered. He held his camera out from his chest, and
grinned. "Can I have a picture? So I can prove I met you?" Harry watched him
blankly for a moment, and then turned to stare at Draco imploringly.
Instead of helping, as Harry had hoped, Draco grinned widely and slung one arm
around Harry's shoulders. "I can take it, and then Harry you could sign it!"
As was the way with Harry's unfortunate luck, Ronald Weasley chose that moment to
appear in the courtyard. "Signed photos? Who's giving out signed photos?" Ron's
voice was loud and scathing and it echoed across the courtyard. People's heads
turned to watch as the redhead bounded up to Harry and threw an arm around him
from the opposite side to Draco. "Take a picture the, Creevey," he demanded.
"I'm not giving out signed photos!" Harry hissed, shoving both Ron and Draco away
from him. He fixed them both with a glare, and narrowed his eyes on Colin. "Go
away. I'm not taking a photo wi"."
Harry froze mid-sentence. The diary in his pocket was practically humming, and
Harry felt the dark magic that surrounded it thrum in time with his heartbeat. He
looked up, wide eyed and excited, searching for a Death Eater or the Dark Lord
himself, but all he could see was Professor Lockhart unhurriedly making his way
towards their group. Harry took in the golden hair and the perfectly chiselled features
and sighed, wondering what the man really looked like.
"Potter, what's this about signed photos?" The blond man asked, grinning widely
enough to bare his teeth.
Harry waited until he couldn't feel the pulse of the Horcrux anymore and then he
answered. "Just a misunderstand, Professor. I'm not giving out signed photos."
"At least without charging, I'd hope not." Harry's head jerked as he raised his eyes to
meet his professors. "Don't look so shocked, Potter. I was in Slytherin after all."
"Yes, well, I'm a Ravenclaw. And I'm not giving out signed photos, regardless of
whether I charge for them or not."

"You heard him, boy. Leave." Colin Creevey let out a soft squeak, and practically ran
in the opposite direction to the Professor. Ron's face had paled so much that his
freckles were almost as dark a red as his hair. He gulped, looked after Colin, and
swallowed heavily. "Leave."
"I can't," Ron said. "I'm going the same way as you."
Lockhart pointed ahead of him, and Ron started walking. A hand fell onto Harry's
shoulder and squeezed, and the brunette held his tongue as the man started leading
him towards the Defence classroom.
They walked in silence, with Draco trailing a little bit behind them and Ron jogging
ahead of them. Lockhart released him when they were about to enter the classroom,
but stopped Harry from finding a seat by placing his hand lightly on Harry's back.
"Have you had a chance to read over your textbooks yet? I would recommend you
do so at the first available opportunity, Mr Potter. You never know what you might
learn."
Harry gave a nod and made his way further into the room, his eyebrows furrowed in
thought. Evan had given him his books for Defence. Gilderoy's entire collection. But
his, apparently, had been a gift from the Dark Lord, signed, sealed and delivered he
supposed. Signed, Harry thought, suddenly smiling. Voldemort must have written
him a message or instructions of some sort, he decided, making a mental note to
check after his classes ended for the day.
"I thought we'd start today with a little quiz," Lockhart said once everyone was
seated. He waved his wand, and a stack of parchment began to make its way
around the classroom, dropping one sheet onto every desk until there were none left
floating. "You have thirty minutes, start now."
Unfortunately, the class was a mix of all Houses, as it was considered one of the
most important subjects and Lockhart himself had insisted. The Gryffindors
murmured loudly amongst themselves, while the Hufflepuffs gasped and looked
close to tears as they read over the questions. The Slytherins looked rather pleased
with themselves, writing down answers and glancing around the room suspiciously,
soon to be copied by the Ravenclaws. But Harry Potter sat still and silent, his pen in
his hand, and his eyes wide. He read over the page once again, and looked up to
meet amused red eyes that watched him calmly from the teacher's desk at the front
of the room.
1. In what year did Lord Voldemort rise to power?
7. Name the group of people known to have followed the Dark Lord during the first

war.
18. In your own words, explain at least one goal that the Dark Lord is fighting to
achieve.
24. Lord Voldemort disappeared for ten years. Where did he go or what was he
doing during this time?
Harry knew that many people would ignore the word 'ten' in question 24, and answer
with a variation of, 'he was destroyed by Harry Potter, he had no body, but I think he
went to hell'. But he and many of the Slytherins, if not all of them, would know that
Lockhart meant the disappearance between 1947 and 1957, during which Voldemort
lay low after stealing two heirlooms from a descendant of Hufflepuff. Only Harry
knew that the man had also used that time to turn those two items into Horcruxes.
He wrote down as much, glancing up at Lockhart wearily. This, undoubtedly, was a
test as to how much Harry knew, rather than the rest of the class. But while knowing
too much could turn out to be bad for his health, lying wouldn't do him any good
idea. Voldemort and Evan had been close; Evan had probably told Voldemort
everything regarding how much Harry knew or still needed to learn.
When the half hour ended, and Lockhart manually collected the exam papers, the
Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs both looked rather shaken. The Professor tutted as he
read over the first few papers. "No Mr Weasley," he said sternly, frowning, "the Dark
Lord's followers were not named 'those bloody bastards', though it does have a nice
ring to it. Ah! Fortunately for you all, only one person got the answer to number
twenty-four correct. Mr Potter, please remain behind. Everyone else, dismissed."
The students filed from the room, talking softly to one another, and Harry remained
seated at his desk. He shook his head at Draco, who hovered in the doorway, and
the blond nodded and walked away. Harry was alone with Lord Voldemort, once
again, and he swallowed heavily then looked up to meet the blue-eyed stare with his
own narrowed eyes.
"What is it you wished to talk to me about, my Lord?" He whispered, noticing with
amusement that all of the portraits that were in the room last year had vanished.
"The answer you wrote down." He started, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. "I
trust you have not shared your knowledge with another."
"Evan knows. He and Lucius told me about them years ago. Lucius, Evan and
Bellatrix Lestrange are all in possession of one item each. Though I suppose
Lucius's is now in my custody. No one else knows."

Red eyes glanced over him, resting momentarily on his scar, and then moving down
to lock onto wide green eyes. "Good. You may leave, Harry."
He didn't need telling twice. Harry slipped from his seat, and reached down for his
bag with the Ravenclaw crest stitched onto it and swung it over his shoulder. "Good
day, Professor," he said primly, slipping from the classroom.
Harry walked slowly down the corridor, his thighs trembling as nervousness finally
came upon him and the adrenaline of the encounter wore off. Lord Voldemort! Lord
Voldemort had seemed threatened by him, but why? Him, of all people. He was
nothing! A huge rush of air escaped him as he breathed heavily, leaning back
against the wall of the corridor and slipping his hand into his robe pocket. The diary
was familiar in his grasp, vibrating with darkness and excitement and need.
"Calm down, will you?" Harry muttered to the book. "It's not like he wants you back."
Harry pushed off from the wall. The feel of the book in his hand had calmed him
down somewhat, and he made his way towards his next class. The bell had already
rung, and he was already outside of McGonagall's door by the time he realised he
hadn't been given a note to excuse his tardiness. "Damn Lockhart," Harry grumbled
under his breath, nodding in time with Professor McGonagall's lecture on time
keeping.
"What kept you?" Hermione whispered, leaning towards him over her desk.
"Shove off," he hissed back uncharitably.
XXX
Well that was kinda pointless and short... I was gonna add the 'Quidditch scene' and
Hermione's actual birthday, but since I hadn't updated in about 5 months, I figured a
short chapter was better than a longer wait! :D

Chapter 26
I don't like how it reads to begin with, but I think the chapter gets better as it goes
along. And we have a time jump!
Last month was Breast Cancer Awareness Month, so just a late shout out to anyone
who has or is affected by this disease. My mum went to the doctor last week about a
lump on her breast, but fortunately it was just a cyst and she has a hospital
appointment to have it drained later this month. But for all those who haven't been as
fortunate, all the best!
Words: 3,635
Chapter 26
October 24th 1992.
The first month of school had almost flown by. Voldemort didn't pay Harry anymore
special attention, but sometimes Harry had been sure that he was being watched.
Flut, Lockhart's strangely bipolar house elf had appeared twice, both times stuttering
and wringing its hands and wanting to tell Harry something but the words had never
come out of the creatures mouth. Wide, tennis-ball eyes had glanced worriedly
around wherever they were standing at the time, and then coincidentally Professor
Lockhart would appear and Flut would disappear with a choked-off cry of terror.
Harry tried to ignore it. Most probably the elf was aware its master was possessed
and wanted Harry's help, but if that were the case there was nothing Harry could do
for the creature. Worst case scenario, the elf and Harry would be killed.
Quidditch try outs had been eventful. Harry had made the team almost instantly. He
had called his broom to him, a Nimbus 2001 as given to him by Lucius as an
'entering second year' gift, and Adam Bradley (who was a Chaser once again) had
declared him the Ravenclaw Seeker. Harry hadn't even had to chase the Snitch!
Cho Chang, finally over being booted from the team to give Harry her position, tried
out for Keeper and got it. The rest of the team remained the same, and Roger Davis,
their captain and Beater, had been pretty sure that Ravenclaw would win the House
Cup this year...
Until the Slytherin team came onto the pitch for their try outs and each of them were
holding Nimbus 2001's. Harry had sighed and glared at Draco, who had merely
grinned smugly, waving his own broom teasingly.

"I'm the Slytherin Seeker, Harry," the blond had said proudly.
"May the best Seeker win," Harry had goaded back with a grin.
The real action of that day had been the Gryffindor try outs. Ronald, still trying to
gain Harry's attention, had refused to be outdone by a Malfoy. He'd mounted one of
the school brooms and, without so much as a by-your-leave, had taken to the sky
shouting determinedly that he was going to be this year's Keeper. He ended up
being knocked down by his twin brothers, who scored more hoops in those ten
minutes than they ever had in any other practise match.
Hermione had been there, handing out paper invitations to her birthday party, and
had been the only one to take pity on Ron. She'd taken him to the Hospital wing, and
apparently spent the rest of the night crying in a toilet because he'd called her
names.
Harry had also finally gotten around to reading the note Lord Voldemort left on his
defence textbook. He had been walking towards his common room, the book open in
his hand, and he'd read the squiggles and lines that had changed as he touched
them to form words in English.
I'm watching you, Potter. Stay out of trouble.
Harry had scoffed at the message. Of all the things he had been expecting, this
seemed so innocent and unimportant. Harry had placed the book back in his bag,
rolling his eyes, and then he had stopped dead in the corridor. A voice had hissed in
his ear, and he turned in circles, trying to see who had spoken.
Kill... Kill... Came the hissing again.
But there was no one there.
"Potter, pay attention!" Davis shouted, throwing the Quaffle in the boy's direction.
Harry swung around on his broom, hanging upside down long enough for the Quaffle
to pass over him, and then he pulled himself up.
"Sorry!" He shouted. "I was thinking!"
"Think later. Catch the Snitch now, Potter!"
Harry nodded his ascent, and took off. His broom shot forward a few meters, then he
stopped again, his eyes narrowed as he tried to spot a glint of gold in the sky. It was
melting with rain, and the Ravenclaw team were soaked to the bone, but it was their

allotted practise time and they had to use it, or lose it. Harry rubbed his hands
together, trying to warm them because even with the leather gloves on they were stiff
from the cold.
Something moved in the distance, and Harry shot towards it. By the time he got
there though, whatever it was was gone.
Flut watched Harry. He was standing on top of one of the Quidditch stands, and in
his hand the golden Snitch fluttered desperately, trying to escape. As the students
began to file back inside, dripping mud and rain water, Flut moved down the steps,
getting closer and closer to Harry Potter.
"Give it back!" He shouted, finger pointed at Harry's back once they were alone.
Everyone else had cleared out of the changing room. Harry fell forward, the elf's
magic knocking him off his feet. "Give back the journal!"
Fortunately the diary was back in his bedroom, hidden beneath a locking charm
Evan had taught him. Harry rolled over, eyes narrowed at the elf, but he couldn't
reach his wand.
"What do you want?" He asked instead, trying to appear menacing.
"Give back the journal. It's not yours!"
"It's not yours either. And the owner said I could have it." Harry argued, pulling
himself to his feet.
The elf jumped towards him, finger still pointed. He snarled, "The girl needs it!"
Before Flut could cast anymore magic, a pale hand fell on the creature's shoulder,
squeezing. "Harry, please continue undressing."
Harry looked between Professor Lockhart and his dirty Quidditch uniform and
frowned. "Nah, I think I'll get changed in my common room if you don't mind. The elf
is creeping me out." Not to mention the fact that Voldemort's eyes were red and
avidly taking in the sight of him with his damp clothes almost painted onto his skin.
"Thanks, you know, for rescuing me," Harry murmured as he gathered his stuff. He
slipped past the elf and the Dark Lord, and ran across the hallway until he was out of
sight.
Five minutes later, the caretaker grabbed him by the arm. "Look at the mess!" Filch
screamed. "Detention! Look at the mess you've made!" Harry didn't have the
strength to argue with him, so with a meek nod, he pulled away from the Squib's grip

and carried on towards his common room, still dripping mud.

XXX
October 31st 1992.
What a pants week, Harry wrote in the diary.
Tom's familiar handwriting appeared on the page, as Harry's scribbles disappeared.
I'm sure it wasn't so bad. At least you are not trapped in a diary, forced to tolerate
whomever owns you or writes to you or throws you around or bleeds on you.
Ok. I get your point. Your life sucks more than mine! Anyway, who threw you
around? Harry scratched at his forehead, trying to think who he had let near the
diary. He was usually so careful to keep it hidden away.
He was on his own, a pot of ink in one pocket and the diary in one hand. He wrote in
it as he made his way down the corridors. Hermione had insisted on going to the
Gryffindor House ghost's death-day party, and because she had no friends she had
bullied Harry into going with her. Harry had collected her from Gryffindor tower and
walked her back, and was now making his way alone to his own bed.
Well, as you're aware I can see what is happening when I'm left open. Some girl
tried to take me at that party. You left me on a table! You left me, like I was
unimportant or as if you did not care at all what would have happened to me! Tom's
words were dark, as if he were pushing hard against the page in anger, and Harry
winced. He had gone to the toilet, and Hermione had offered to hold the diary for him
after promising not to write in it.
Hermione? Harry asked.
No, came Tom's reply, his anger seemingly abated for the moment. Just some girl.
Someone bumped into him, and automatically, Harry slammed the diary closed and
shoved it into his pocket.
"Oh Ginny," he whispered with one hand over his heart. "You frightened me."
She looked at him with wide eyes. Ever since Colin had asked for signed photos
back in September, there had been rumours of a Harry Potter fan club going around,
and there was no doubt in Harry's mind that Ginny was the founder if such a club
existed. She looked at him, pale and blushing with wavy red hair that reminded him
of his mother's. There was something smeared across her cheek, and Harry leaned

forward to brush it off with his fingers.

"H-H-Harry!" Ginny squeaked, face turning red. She pushed him to the side, holding
her cheek where he had touched her and then ran off down the corridor.
Girls are weird, Harry wrote to Tom. He looked at his finger and wiped it on his robe
sleeve. It was only a bit of dirty water; it had probably splashed onto her face while
she was walking outside. Harry turned, trying to check outside because he didn't
think it had been raining before but there weren't any windows nearby. He didn't hear
any rain regardless, but Ginny could have been washing her hair in the bathroom for
all he knew, so he ignored it. It was nothing.
Why? Tom asked. But before Harry could reply, he slipped. A large puddle of water
covered the floor for almost the length of the corridor, and as he rounded the corner
of the hallway, Harry stepped right in it and fell on his arse. He groaned, rubbing his
lower back, and leaning over to scoop up the fallen diary. It was soaking wet, but
Harry rubbed the front and back cover on the dry patches of his robe and knew Tom
would dry up the pages himself. Thanks for that, Tom wrote, and Harry could almost
see him scowling and dripping wet, though he had no idea what Tom looked like.
"The toilet is flooded?" Harry asked out loud, looking at the door where the water
appeared to be coming from. He pushed it open, taking care not to slip again, but
there was no one inside and the taps weren't running. "Strange," he muttered,
backing out of the girl's toilet.
Rip... Tear... Kill...
Harry froze, his hand on the door of the bathroom, and he turned slowly around.
Behind him, hanging from a torch bracket on the wall was the caretaker's cat. Mrs
Norris was stiff and Harry wasn't sure but he thought she looked dead. There was
something written above her, and Harry pulled out his diary and scribbled the
message down. The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir,
beware... what the hell is going on, Tom? Who is that hissing at me?
It's begun, was Tom's reply, and no matter what Harry wrote or asked or poured on
the diary, Tom would not answer him again. In the end, Harry snuck away from the
possibly dead cat and the flooded bathroom and the menacing message with no one
the wiser to his having been there.
The next day, Ginny refused to meet his eyes, even as she walked straight into him
four times in the one day. Dumbledore announced that Filch's cat had been petrified,
but would be ok, and Ginny had run from the Great Hall in tears.

"Animal lover," Ron had shouted through a mouthful of food, "poor girl cried herself
to sleep last night over it."
Why would she have been crying last night? Harry asked Tom, once they'd left the
Great Hall. Breakfast had been a tedious affair, everyone talking about some girl
named Myrtle and about Mrs Norris. Harry was glad to be heading to class, where
he could happily ignore Professor Binns and see if Tom would answer him. They
didn't find the cat until this morning!
But again, Tom wouldn't answer him, except to say, It's begun once more, followed
inanely enough by a rather large smiley face. Whatever the hell was happening,
Harry thought; Tom sure seemed excited about it.
XXX
November 8th 1992.
Nothing much happened in the week that followed Mrs Norris' petrification. Filch was
much angrier than usual, but that probably had something to do with the Weasley
twins spreading rumours of bestiality and leaving toy cats around the castle.
Gryffindor had played Slytherin over the weekend and someone had ended up in the
Hospital wing with a broken arm. Harry wasn't sure who, because he hadn't actually
seen the accident, having left about half way through the match because Lucius had
wanted to speak with him in private. Draco had informed him later, looking very
confused, that the person in the hospital wing was the boy who had been sitting next
to Harry in the spectator stand. Someone had aimed a Bludger straight towards him.
Harry hadn't known what to say, though he had immediately written to Tom and
asked the boy's opinion. Tom thought it was that insane house elf again, and Harry
made a mental note to speak to Voldemort after today's Defence lesson.
He had to stop in at the Hospital wing first though, because Theo was getting a
horrible cold and was too chicken to face the medi-woman himself.
"Hi madam Pomfrey," Harry said with a large smile. He sat on the edge of one of the
beds, watching her bustle around the room. He nodded at the Hufflepuff that was
clutching one arm to his chest looking rather pitiful, and the boy offered him a smile
in return. That must have been the kid hit by the Bludger, Harry realized. "Who's in
that bed?" Harry pointed at the bed right at the very back of the room, and there was
a screen pulled up around it. Draco had said it happened very rarely that they hid
patients at Hogwarts. Apparently a girl had been attacked a handful of years ago,
and that was the last time anyone had been placed behind a screen as far as the
history books remembered. "What's so special?" He joked.

The Hufflepuff answered him. "Creevey was brought in really early this morning. He's
like that cat, you know, petrified."
"That's enough of that now, boys! What did you want, Potter?"
"Uh," he stammered, eyes glued to the white screen that hid Colin. "Pepper Up
please?"
"Yes, yes," she murmured as she collected a handful of vials. "There's a dose going
around, alright. I've had nearly every Weasley in here this week, the youngest is
looking especially unwell, the poor dear. Here you go!"
"Thanks, madam Pomfrey," Harry said, tucking the vials into his pocket.
On his way to class, it was unfortunate that he had to walk past the bathroom again.
It wasn't flooded this time, and the writing had been scrubbed from the wall. Harry
had never noticed in his first year, but the bathroom was pretty abandoned.
According to Hermione, it was haunted by a ghost named Moaning Myrtle, who was
the one to flood it on Halloween night. Seemingly she got into a temper on certain
days (most days really) and trashed the place. She had died in there, so she didn't
ever really leave it, and the Professors didn't want to exorcise her though she
caused immense amounts of property damage whenever she was in a mood.
Today, though, the bathroom was not abandoned.
"Oh hello Harry," Myrtle simpered, hovering outside of her bathroom door. "I'm
standing guard," she told him, "but you can go inside."
"Thank you," he whispered politely. The diary was in one hand, almost inseparable
from his person by now, and the other hand shoved open the door.
"Oh Harry!" Hermione cried as she looked up at him. "It's only you!" She was sitting
on the floor with a familiar redheaded girl, both cross legged and stirring a potion in a
cauldron that was held over a small flame.
"Polyjuice," Harry said, recognizing it from his lessons with Lucius and Evan.
"Oh, oh yes," Hermione happily answered, standing up and brushing herself down.
"We're absolutely convinced we know who the Heir is, so we're going to go disguised
as his friends and sneak in to his common room and make him admit to us what he's
done!"

"Who do you think it is?" Harry was certain Voldemort had something to do with it,
being Slytherin's heir himself and at the castle for the first time in decades. Tom
seemed very impressed by what was going on, so he could have somehow been
responsible either, Harry considered, though he hadn't outright asked yet.
"Kevin Entwhistle," the other girl whispered.
"Oh Harry, you know Ginny, right? She's my friend," the muggleborn seemed so
happy while saying that, so Harry smiled back at her, not having the heart to tell her
that Entwhistle was a muggleborn adopted by Purebloods and passed off as one of
them. There was no way he was the Heir to Slytherin, or any other house for that
matter. Ginny was likely using Hermione for the potion, lying about Entwhistle, but
why. What was in Ravenclaw that Ginny Weasley wanted?
"I have to go to class," Harry said at last, "see you later, Hermione." He nodded
goodbye at the redhead, and turned to leave. He didn't notice how Ginny's gaze
remained fixed on the diary in his hand, even as Hermione went back to her potion.
Nor did he see Flut, who was pretending to clean the torch bracket that Mrs Norris
had been hung from. The elf took a step towards Harry, as the boy left the bathroom,
opening the diary and searching for a quill.
"Here," Voldemort offered, "use mine." Flut disappeared as the Dark Lord's hand fell
on Harry's shoulder.
"Something very strange is going on," the boy muttered, taking the black-feathered
quill off of his professor. "Thanks," he said.
"You're welcome, now, are you coming to class?" There was a large grin on the Dark
Lord's face, as his eyes moved to land on the closed bathroom door. The ghost that
had been waiting there gave a cry and ran back into the bathroom, shrieking.
"Friend of yours?" Harry asked, with a chuckle.
Voldemort's lips twitched, and he shrugged. "You could say that."
"What are we doing in class today?" They walked side by side through the castle
until they reached the Defence classroom. Harry was the first student there, but
Voldemort held the door open for the boy so that they could wait inside.
"So eager to learn," he teased. "But today, we're going to have a history lesson.
Professor Binns' material is rather lacking, as it was when I was in school. Today, my
Harry," the man hissed his name and the child felt his face turning red. No one but

Lucius spoke to him like that. Harry liked it when Lucius spoke to him like that, but
this, with the Dark Lord, was a little terrifying. "You're going to learn about the
Chamber of Secrets, and what happened when it was opened fifty years ago."
Harry took a seat at his desk, waiting on the rest of the class to show up. When
Kevin Entwhistle entered the room with Hermione, Harry rolled his eyes, taking in the
boy's dishevelled appearance and Hermione's annoyed frown. Apparently she
wasn't waiting the full month for the potion to be ready before she began
interrogating her suspect. The diary lay open before him, and Theo sat next to him
and grinned.
"Father's trial is at the end of this month. They're going to decide what happens to
me and Terrence then as well." The dark haired boy prodded the diary. "How come
you never write in that anyway? There's never writing!"
"I write in it," Harry defended, hiding the book behind one arm. "I just use ninja ink,"
he joked, "now you see it, now you don't."
Theo rolled his eyes. They both nodded at Draco as the blond entered the room and
sat down. Ron came in next, talking loudly to the Mudblood from Gryffindor about his
sister's peculiar behaviour, and Harry frowned as he listened.
"She left her diary at that death-day party, and now she keeps checking everyone
who has one, to make sure they didn't take hers by accident. The weird thing is, she
says she hasn't wrote in it yet. So why does it matter if someone else has it?" Ron
complained, taking his seat.
"Girls are weird," Dean Thomas agreed.
Something strange is going on, and you have something to do with it, Harry told
Tom, then closed the diary and tucked it away.
On the teacher's desk, Voldemort's own journal was open. And the words Harry had
written to Tom appeared on the page. Voldemort read it quickly, his lips quirked in an
amused smile. He could not write to Harry, but he could read everything that passed
between his Horcruxes. Harry might not know it, but giving the boy the diary was just
another test of his loyalties. One he seemed to be passing without difficulty.
Regardless of the fact that Harry had yet to declare his loyalties, Voldemort had high
hopes for him.
"Class is beginning." Voldemort sat back on the desk, watching the class. Everyone
fell silent, waiting for Lockhart to continue speaking. "The Chamber of Secrets has
been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware!" He told them, and he kept his eyes on

Kevin Entwhistle as he spoke. Most of the class followed his gaze, eyeing the
Ravenclaw with distrust, but the Slytherins merely scoffed at the notion. Harry was
the only one who saw the amusement dancing in Lockhart's red eyes.
XXX
Sorry for the long wait! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. The next chapter of New
Divide is with my beta, but as always, Butterfly remains unbeta'd. I'm having a busy
life... But I will try and work on something new soon.

Chapter 27
Happy Holidays, whichever one you may celebrate. Forgot to wish you all a good
winter Solstice last Tuesday, my bad! Sorry for the delay in updates, but I have a
horribly complicated lift. Sigh. Also, had my very own Twilight moment Christmas
Eve. I was Bella. My car was Tyler's Van... on a hill... in ice. Not so much fun.
I uploaded a Star Wars/HP crossover earlier this week if anyone is interested, and
chapter 10 of New Divide is over 7k words, but I'm waiting on my Beta to get back to
me with it, corrections, comments, and all.
Words: 3,088
Chapter 27
November 29th 1992.
Lucius ushered the boy forward with one hand on his back. Theodore looked over
his shoulder at the blond Wizard, a nervous half-smile on his face, but obediently
began walking faster.
The corridors of the Ministry stretched out before them, curling and twisting, and
lined with doors and people. Theo looked around with wide eyes, swallowing
convulsively whenever someone met his gaze. Most of the people didn't pay any
attention to him, but when they stopped outside of Courtroom 7 and his father's
lawyer met his eyes, Theo flinched. He was pressed back against Lucius Malfoy,
hands shaking at his sides, but Lucius calmly steered the child around the lawyer
and through the large wooden doors.
Behind them, Terrance shuffled into the room. He was biting his lower lip, looking
scared and shaky. Lucius reached back to give him a brief squeeze on his shoulder.
He led both teenagers towards the back of the room, and left them beside a small
cluster of seats. Harry Potter was already sitting there, along with Draco. Lucius had
turned around to mumble something to another adult Wizard, before he took a seat
between his son and the boy he desired. The other adult, Vernon Dursley, took a
seat in the row behind them. Evan made sure to look around with a bemused
expression on his face. After all, Muggles shouldn't be able to see anything inside of
the Ministry; it should have simply appeared as if he were sitting within a run-down
factory. Fortunately for him, Evan was only pretending to be a Muggle.
"Hey," Harry whispered. Evan had collected him from Hogwarts earlier, disguised by
Polyjuice. He had shown Dumbledore a letter owled to him from the Ministry,

requesting witnesses to the 'incident' at Canterbury to be present at the Ministry by

11am. Draco had been taken from school by his mother, while his father acting as a
member of the Board of Governors had arrived later to accompany the Nott children
to their father's judgment.
Harry and Draco had given their evidence already. Some of the Nott house elves
had been questioned under Veritaserum, and their testimony (no matter how
involuntary) would have been enough to guarantee Theaodore Nott the Kiss.
Terrance and Theodore were only required to be present while the Minister
sentenced their father, and while Wizard Welfare representatives decided what
should happen to the children.
Theo sat stiffly, beside Evan, and on his other side his brother pressed against him
nervously. Their father was seated in the chair in the middle of the Courtroom, arms
chained to the armrests of his seat. He was eyeing his sons with a look that could
have killed and a rather unattractive sneer upon his lips. Terrance flinched back, and
Theodore turned his face away. He looked at Harry instead, who had twisted in his
seat to smile at the brothers.
"Hey, Harry. Been here long?" Theo questioned in a soft voice.
Harry shrugged. "A while. But could be worse. I could have detention with Lockhart
again!"
"You have a lot of those," Terrance whispered, fighting not to smile. The latest
rumours around Hogwarts were that Harry was attempting to seduce Lockhart or that
the Professor was attempting to seduce him. Disregarding the fact that the boy was
twelve, many people thought it rather odd that they spent all of Harry's detentions in
that one Professor's office.
Minister Fudge stood up before Harry could defend himself. The Courtroom fell
silent, everyone looking up at their Minister with bated breath. Without further ado, or
introduction, or greeting, he said, "Sonorus! Theaodore Nott has been sentenced to
fifteen years in Azkaban for child abuse and neglect, with a five year suspended
sentence for assaulting the Boy-Who-Lived. He is ordered to pay the cost of this trial,
his own solicitor fees and any fees incurred by the prosecuting party. Guards," he
called. Two Dementors floated forwards as he summoned them. "Take the prisoner
to Azkaban."
Cornelius Fudge looked around the room, nodding at the people he sucked up to on
a regular basis, Lucius being the main person, and then he stared down at Harry
Potter. His eyes widened, almost having forgotten he had attended the earlier

evidential trial, before a slow smile spread on his face. He was probably attempting
to be fatherly, or welcoming, or something, but Harry's eyes narrowed and he sat
back a little in his seat.
"Why is he staring at me?" He asked Evan, just as Fudge sat down.
Evan just smirked in his direction, watching silently as tall, thin woman stood up. She
was plain looking, with short dark hair and a wide mouth. Her eyes landed on the
brothers, their mother dead and their father imprisoned, and her mouth turned down
in pity. The Wizard Welfare Service, Harry had found out that morning, were the
Wizarding world's equivalent of social services. However, they didn't only deal with
children. They existed to protect women from being abused by their husbands as
well.
It was a nice addition, Harry thought, because some people (women or children)
needed all the help they could get. Petunia was another matter entirely. She was a
Muggle, firstly, and secondly she wasn't getting anything she didn't deserve. She had
spent years tormenting Harry, allowing him to be beaten and attacked. He felt no
need to report Evan's abuse of her to the Welfare people. And anyway, she wasn't
really his wife. Her husband was dead. The Wizard Welfare weren't authorized to
investigate any relationship but the parent/child one, or the one between spouses.
"Terrance Augustine and Theodore Titus Nott," the woman called, reading from a
piece of velum. "You are henceforth Wards of the Ministry. A family may seek to
adopt or foster either of you, though, because of your age that is very unlikely.
Should it occur, they would be responsible for all of your needs. You financial needs
will be met by the Ministry if such an event does not occur, up until your twenty-first
birthday, and your educational needs will be seen to by your designated school, in
this instance, Hogwarts, up until your nineteenth birthday. The Ministry will find
somewhere for you to live, but for the moment it is suggested that you both spend
the holidays at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She sat back down,
rolling the velum on her lap and sliding it up the sleeve of her robe.
Minister Fudge cleared his throat. He stood to address the Courtroom, to dismiss
them, but Vernon Dursley spoke first.
He and Harry had spoken, and the Dark Lord had made no comment either way
when they had mentioned it to him. It wouldn't have been his first choice for a
situation, but then again he had never seen himself living with, or loving, the BoyWho-Lived. Life sometimes threw you for a loop, he had told himself silently as he
made his decision. It was only fair that once in a while you got to throw one back!

"I would like to formally request myself for the position of caretaker for Theodore
Titus Nott." He wasn't offering to adopt the boy, like he had for Harry. It would be too
risky to write his real name down on magical adoption papers. They would register
automatically, but his name would appear on the Nott family tree tapestry, or on any
other tree that was distantly related to Theodore's. By fostering, though, you didn't
need to sign anything that would signify that you were willing to take a child into your
family. Into your home, yes, but into your bloodline? No. Harry was a Rosier, but
Theodore would always be a Nott.
"And who are you?" The woman asked.
"Matila!" Fudge hissed, glaring over at her. She had stood, while he was still
standing, while he had been about to speak. The Muggle could be forgiven; after all,
they were all ignorant creatures who didn't know better. But the Witch should have
had more respect.
"My name is Vernon Dursley. I am, through marriage, Harry Potter's maternal uncle."
Whispers spread out through the Courtroom. Harry grinned at the back of Evan's
head, Evan who was technically his father, not his uncle. Theo was staring at him,
mouth open and wide eyed. Terrance pulled away from where he had been half lying
on his younger brother's shoulder, and was frowning. Neither child had been warned.
Evan knew that Theodore knew about him, about whom he was, and the boy hadn't
squealed on him. The same couldn't be guaranteed for Terrance. He was too much
of a risk to let into their home.
Unfortunately, he would have to stay in the system.
But Theo, he was coming home with them. Harry wouldn't settle for anything less.
Green eyes were narrowed onto Matila's face. She looked back at him, "Harry
Potter, you say?" She asked sounding a little breathless. "Well, I never!"
After confirming that, yes, he was Harry's uncle. The Harry Potter, mind you. Vernon
didn't have any trouble gaining guardianship of the youngest Nott boy.
XXX
December 17th 1992.
He had been writing to Tom when it had happened. It had been an accident, of
course. But that wouldn't change the fact that it had happened.
Professors Lockhart and Snape were hosting a duelling club. Hermione, who was
still adamant that poor Kevin Entwhistle was the Heir of Slytherin, had insisted Harry

attend along with her once she had noticed the other Ravenclaw's name on the
attendance sheet. Draco had been duelling Ron Weasley, and for the first two
minutes it had been interesting to watch Ron's face go red, but for some reason he
had yet to lose his grip on his wand, despite Draco knocking him onto the ground
repeatedly. Still clutching his wand, Ron hadn't lost the duel, and lying flat on his face
he had cast a stunner at Draco, which he had to duck to avoid.
Harry had lost interest after Ron's third fall.
Tom was still being tight-lipped (or worded as the case may be) about the hissing
Harry had heard in the walls the month before, or about the petrifications that were
becoming more frequent through the school.1 Some Hufflepuff was petrified
yesterday. I heard about it from Hermione. You wouldn't know anything about it,
would you?
Tom didn't get a chance to answer him.
Harry was standing behind the small group of people crowded around the edge of
the raised dais. While he had been writing in the diary, the group of people had
scattered, leaving him standing in a wide open space alone. Even Hermione had
darted out of the way with a gasp. The diary landed on the ground with a thump.
Harry landed on the floor shortly after, a pained cry leaving his mouth. Something
had crashed into him, and then had landed on his chest. His glasses had been
knocked askew, but he didn't need to see to understand what exactly was on top of
him.
"Stupid humans!" A voice hissed, terrifyingly close to Harry's face. "Should teach
them all a lesson. Should bite them all. Should kill them, stupid humans!"
Harry squinted up at the snake that was coiled on his chest. Its head was raised,
hood flared out, preparing itself to strike. People were screaming and shouting in
panic. Snape had his wand out, and Lockhart had taken three hurried steps forward,
but before either of them could act, Harry raised a hand in front of his face.
"I really would rather you didn't bite me!" He shouted, unintentionally speaking in
Parseltongue. Voldemort, Evan, and the Malfoys were the only ones who knew he
could speak the snake language, and the rest of the room's occupants reacted
accordingly. They all screamed again, gasping and muttering about the 'heir of
Slytherin', eyes darting between Kevin and Harry.
The snake drew away, momentarily surprised that someone could communicate with
it, and using that distraction Snape vanished the creature. "Detention, Weasley, for
summoning a dangerous creature and attacking another student with it!" Snape

snarled, looking furious and pale.

"Malfoy cast that spell!" Ron protested, but his arguments fell on deaf ears.
Snape was already at Harry's side, hauling the boy to his feet. He was looking at the
brunette in a strange way, but Harry couldn't figure out what he was thinking. He
didn't know where he stood with Snape. Lucius trusted the man with his life, Evan
thought he was a traitor, Voldemort hadn't mentioned him either way, and sometimes
Harry was sure he had caught Snape looking at him with something akin to fondness
in his gaze but that was the opposite emotion to which Snape treated him most of
the times. "Professor?"
"My office! Now, Potter!" Snape dragged him from the room, unwillingly allowing
Lockhart to deal with the mess of the aftermath.
Harry struggled against Snape's grip, looking frantically over his shoulder. "Draco!
Theo! Hermione!" He called. The three of them, on opposite sides of the room,
looked over at him as Snape pulled him through the doorway. Hermione looked
terrified, whereas the two Slytherins met his gaze calmly. "The diary!"
Harry had dropped it when the snake landed on him. It should have still been on the
floor beside where he had been lying. The three children searched for it, and
Professor Lockhart tried to summon it. But the diary was gone.
XXX
December 25th 1992.
"Hermione," Ginny called. She ran up behind the elder girl, lightly placing her hand
on Hermione's arm. "I need to talk to you."
"Come on," Hermione whispered to her friend. She was on her way to check the
Polyjuice potion anyway, so she led Ginny along behind her. They walked in silence
until they reached the abandoned girls' bathroom. "The potion should be finished
today," Hermione said happily.
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." Ginny swallowed. She scuffed the toe of
one shoe against the floor and bit her bottom lip. "I realized that I was wrong. Kevin
isn't the Heir of Slytherin."2
Harry speaking Parseltongue during the duelling club had actually fuelled the
rumours that Kevin was the Heir, because he had been standing directly opposite
Harry, on the other side of the dais. Someone, though no one could remember who,

had claimed they saw Kevin wave his wand towards Harry just as Draco summoned
the snake.
Harry speaking Parseltongue had the result of people avoiding him, and Lockhart
giving him another set of detentions for being careless and for 'fanning the flames of
fear that had begun spreading across the school already'. But Kevin was still the one
receiving the majority of peoples' suspicion.
"Do you think Harry is?" Hermione asked breathlessly. She hadn't spoken much to
Harry in the past week. He had gone home for the holidays. But in the days before
term ended Harry was too busy searching the castle for the diary, mumbling about
someone called Tom. When Hermione had pointed out there was no one in their
year called Tom, Harry had glared and walked away from her. She had spent a lot of
time researching Parseltongue and Slytherin and she wasn't sure if she wanted to
share what she had found with Harry or not.
"No." Ginny said quickly. She knew Harry wasn't to blame. Despite her protests, the
majority of the first years thought that Harry and Kevin may have teamed up,
becoming a team of Slytherin's Heirs!
"But we don't need the Polyjuice anymore. I'm sorry." Ginny pulled her wand from
her pocket, knocking something else onto the floor at the same time. With a flick and
swish, the Polyjuice potion was gone, and Hermione was gaping at the empty
cauldron.
"Why did you do that?" Hermione shrieked. "That took me a month to make!"
"I said I was sorry," Ginny cried, face red and eyes beginning to water. She tucked
away her wand, and gasped. "Oh," she said, looking at the other item that she had
dropped.
A small book was lying open on the floor. "You found your diary then! I'm pleased for
you," Hermione told her, "but you didn't need to destroy my potion because you
changed your mind about the plan, you know!"
Hermione bent down for the diary, scooping it up.
Ginny snatched it rather rudely out of her hand, tucking it back into her pocket and
almost running from the bathroom. When she was back in her own dorm, hidden
behind the closed curtains of her bed, she pulled back out the diary.
You are not Harry Potter Tom wrote. Ginny swallowed, looking down at the ink that
darkened for a moment and then began to seep back into the pages, disappearing

completely. Who are you? He asked, these words replacing the last set.
Ginny picked up her quill, smiling as she dipped it into the ink and touched the tip of
it to the page. There was such lightness in her chest, a feeling of freedom in her
mind as she wrote. Ever since she had tried to take the diary from Harry on the train
there had been this horrible pressure inside of her, the need to be with the diary, to
hold it and touch it and write in it! And now it was here, with her. It was hers.
My name is Ginny Weasley. I'm your new owner now, she told Tom.
If Harry had been there, he would have known that Tom was scowling before he
would have needed to read his response. But Ginny waited with a grin for Tom to
write something nice to her, something flattering, something that would make her
smile as Harry always smiled while he was writing in the diary.
Owner? Tom would have scoffed if he could, or laughed in the child's face. You are
nothing to me. Just some girl!
He refused to respond to her for the rest of the night.
Frustrated and disappointed, Ginny grabbed the diary and threw it at the curtain of
her bed. It flew through the curtains, and hit one of her dorm mates. With a curse,
the other girl hurled it back, and Ginny raised her hands to catch it.
"Ah!" She cried, catching the diary awkwardly, and cutting the palm of her hand open
on its sharp edges. She watched the blood disappear into the pages of the diary. If
he could have, Tom would have smiled. But he still refused to write back.
XXX
1 " Making an alteration to the CoS timeline here. Justin Finch Fletchley wasn't
petrified until the day AFTER the Duelling Club. I've changed it so that it happened
beforehand.
2 " Kevin Entwhistle's bed is the one beside Harry's in the Ravenclaw dorm. Ginny
wanted to use the Polyjuice to sneak in and steal the diary while Hermione
questioned him about being the Heir. Now that she has the diary, she doesn't need
the potion.

Chapter 28
This would have been up sooner except I had to fill out an application form for an
internship... and it was like banging my head off of a wall. Took a lot longer than I
thought it would have.
Also, uploaded a LV/HP oneshot the other day, hint. New Divide will be soon... or
another oneshot... or maybe I'll work on The Abyss (but it's looking to be very long
so it won't be posted for a while longer yet). Enjoy.
Words: 3,253
Chapter 28
January 6th 1993.
Harry had waited until his dorm mates were asleep before he pulled the invisibility
cloak from his trunk and wrapped it around himself. With careful, silent steps he
made his way out of his dorm and into the common room. There was a small blond
girl, probably a first year, curled up on one of the couches reading a book upside
down. Harry looked her over curiously, from her bare feet, to her silvery-blond hair,
and to the book she was immersed in, before gazing at her face. When he looked
up, she was staring back at him, as if she knew he were there, as if she could see
through the cloak. Harry shrugged away the thought, dismissing it as the girl hearing
his footsteps or breath or something, but she certainly wasn't able to see him.
He walked past her, not noticing the way her head turned to follow him as he left the
common room.
Harry made it to the Forbidden Forest without passing anyone else. It was pretty
late, and it seemed that even the teachers and prefects had gone to bed. It was
raining lightly, small drizzles of water that somehow always managed to get you
wetter than the heavy, pounding rain could. Harry cast a charm, blocking the water
from his cloak and skin, and moved deeper into the forest.
A snowy white owl soared over head, screeching in greeting as she saw him. Harry
smiled up as Hedwig passed by. He hadn't seen her for a while, not since agreeing
to borrow her to Evan. Draco's eagle owl delivered their mail for them, or the school
owls, or a rather ridiculous looking parrot that probably belonged to Lockhart prepossession. Harry was rather glad to see Hedwig return to him; he had missed their
talks in the owlery. Talking to an animal, Harry thought, what would Evan say?

Then again, he used to speak to the butterfly too, years and years ago.
Evan waited for him in the forest, armed with a small pewter cauldron and a low
burning fire. "Hello, Caen," the Death Eater whispered.
Harry had only returned to Hogwarts three days ago. He had spent the majority of
the Christmas break at Malfoy Manor, with Lucius who was as enthralled as ever,
and with Draco and Evan and Narcissa. It had only been three days since he had
seen his father, and yet he found he had missed him. Without giving Evan warning,
Harry ran into his arms, clinging tightly to the man's waist and whispered, "Hi."
"The potion is ready." Harry looked up at the sound of Evan's voice. Then looked
down at the cauldron, and just as Evan had said, the blue liquid was simmering
lightly over the fire. "Just drink a few drops. Hopefully, it will work the way I was told it
should."
"If Voldemort wanted me to find the diary, wouldn't he have helped me himself? Why
tell you? Are you sure it was him who told you, and not his crazy house elf?" Harry
leant down to cup a handful of the potion, curling his fingers up to try and keep it
from escaping. "If I die because of this, I'll haunt you." And then he ducked his head,
slurping the liquid from his hand in an ungainly manner, accompanied by unattractive
sucking sounds.
"How's it taste?" Evan asked chuckling. His Lord had informed him that nothing
could touch the potion but the cauldron and the one who intended to use it.
Therefore, Harry had no choice but to drink it from his bare hand.
"Kinda tastes like me," the boy said, while wiping his mouth on the back of his clean
hand. "Not bad, actually."
Evan opened his mouth to speak, but aborted the attempt, choosing instead to dive
forward, arms catching Harry as he fell. He shook the boy lightly. Harry's eyes were
closed, but flickering wildly beneath the lids and his mouth was parted slightly as he
breathed heavily. He didn't react to Evan's shaking, and so the Death Eater stopped.
He sat on the ground, cross-legged, and pulled Harry's unconscious body into his
lap. Then, he waited.
XXX
No one had really explained what the potion was going to do exactly. Harry had only
been told that it would help him find the diary.
He hadn't expected to wake up on the floor of a large stone cavern, surrounded by

dust and leaking pipes, with Tom Riddle staring down at him. Harry rolled to his feet,
feeling rather disorientated and then terrified as he realized that he was transparent.
"The potion killed me, didn't it?" He asked calmly, wondering if the shock had set in
yet.
"You are in the diary," Tom told him. The navy-eyed boy watched him with awe and
glee on his face, unhidden. He strode closer to Harry, hands coming out, striking like
a snake, to grab the lapels of Harry's shirt and tug them even closer. "You are here!
I've waited a long time to meet you, Harry Potter!"
Harry broke Tom's grip, and found himself falling backwards onto the floor. He
grunted as he hit the ground, and climbed painfully to his feet once more. "Where
are you? Who has you?"
"It won't be long, Harry. I have everything in motion, the first stone has been cast and
you really shouldn't interfere."
"I wasn't planning to," Harry told him honestly. Whatever was attacking students was
none of his business, because despite the rumours that Harry was actually behind
the attacks, he didn't care either way about it. He didn't hate the Muggleborns being
petrified and he didn't like them either, so he just didn't care. He only wanted to
know, to learn what was going on, and study it, research it until he was satisfied that
every detail existing was within his knowledge. "I just want the diary back."
"I've opened the Chamber of Secrets," Tom breathed excitedly, moving closer to
Harry again. Harry didn't ask how. Instead, Harry took several steps back, mentally
groaning as he ended up standing in a rather deep body of water. "This is the
Chamber, here, now, as I remember it from fifty years ago."
The diary was a Horcrux, Harry knew that. So he also knew that it contained a piece
of Voldemort's soul, a piece that he had split from the rest of his soul fifty years ago.
That was when he had first opened the Chamber, Harry assumed, since Voldemort
must have been within it before the Horcrux had been made for Tom to retain the
visual memories of it. The Chamber was open again, and apparently that was a big
deal. Pity Harry didn't actually know what the Chamber of Secrets was, but it would
be the first thing he'd do once he woke up... after he got his diary back!
"Who has the diary, Tom?"
"She'll help us, you know. She won't mean to, or realize she is helping us, but she
will." Drops of red began to rain from the sky, and Harry looked up with wide-eyes,
subconsciously likening what was happening to how living in a Tim Burton movie

would be like. Fat red droplets landed on the floor, and the walls, and spread into the
lakes of water. They clung to Tom's face, and Harry's and ran like tears down their
cheeks. "Even now," Tom breathed, licking the blood from his lips, "she helps us."
Whatever the girl who stole the diary was doing, though it appeared as if she were
bleeding on it, as strange as that thought was, it was making Tom stronger. He was
no longer as transparent as Harry was within the diary, but growing more solid, more
defined, with every drop of red that touched him.
Harry narrowed his eyes. Wondering about how the diary worked. It was absorbing
the blood. Like it absorbed the ink on its pages. Feeding off of them.
"Have you been feeding off of me too, Tom?" Harry asked quietly.
Navy eyes widened as they met his, and Harry wasn't sure if the young Dark Lord
was honestly surprised by the question, or if he were faking the emotion. The Dark
Lord was known to be a brilliant manipulator after all.
"You are like me!" Tom said, obviously startled. It took him a moment to gather
himself, to regain his composure, and he straightened his robes before speaking
again. "Before I knew you were like me I would have done, yes. But fortunately for
us both that silly girl cut herself upon my pages, and I managed to link myself, my
existence to her. I grow stronger faster now, because she keeps offering me her
blood, but before, I did use some of your emotions but not enough to harm you. Just
enough to keep me existing, until I could find someone better." Tom turned his face
away. "Someone less worthy," he added in a whisper. One Horcrux to another, one
dark Wizard, one half-blood to another, both worth more in Tom's eyes than the life
of a blood-traitor's child.
Harry thought back to the early days, when he had first stolen the diary. Who had
even seen it, been allowed to touch it while it had still been new and precious to
Harry, and still coveted?
On the Hogwarts Express, there was one girl who had seen the diary, touched it,
bled on it. Harry gasped as he realized who Tom was talking about. He thought back
to her actions, the way she always stared at him star-struck, followed him places,
enquired around the school about her diary which she had lost but had yet to write
in. "It's very important to me," she had whimpered pathetically to him one day, her
eyes fixed on his robe pocket, "it's blank though. One of a kind."
Tom was feeding off of someone, sucking away their life and soul and magic to
sustain himself. Had that been Voldemort's plan all along? To use Harry, exchange
Harry's life for Voldemort's Horcrux, and then use Tom to return to power? Had

Evan's Lord really planned for his death... despite telling Evan otherwise?
"He keeps an eye on us, you know," Tom said, as if he knew what Harry was
thinking. "My other self, I mean. He watches what we write, follows you in the dead
of night when you think you are alone with me, he makes sure that I do not hurt you.
Lord Voldemort never lies to his friends, Harry Potter-Rosier, and he keeps his
promises."
They met each other's eyes again, navy and emerald, and Harry felt something like
relief within his chest, expanding and growing, pushing away the niggling doubt that
had spawned within his mind. He hadn't picked a side yet, not yet, but he was
leaning towards the Dark. To learn that Voldemort was already planning his death
would have been quite a blow to his long-term career goals.
"Ginny Weasley?" Harry asked, maintaining eye contact. He didn't ask what Tom
was doing to Ginny. Whether he was merely draining her life, or whether there was
more. Whether he could possess her, or leave the diary of his own accord, or
whether Harry could ever return to the diary again. "Ginny?" He asked again,
instead.
Tom nodded, leaning forward to lightly brush his lips across Harry's scar. And then
Harry was falling, arms flailing and splashing as he landed in the water. All he could
see was Tom's face hovering above his own, and then he woke up.
Evan's face was above his own, calm and unconcerned, but relieved to see green
eyes blink up at him owlishly. "Welcome back, my son."
XXX
January 7th 1993.
Ginny scowled at the diary she held between her hands. Tom still hadn't written
back. She'd had him almost two weeks now, and apart from the first time, he
wouldn't reply to her, or acknowledge her, and he had even stopped absorbing her
written words into the page. In her frustration she had ended up cutting herself twice
more on the edges of Tom's pages, dripping blood onto the ink filled pages, and
while the ink remained, the blood disappeared before Ginny's eyes.
What's so great about my blood? She wrote curiously, one time. Tom didn't reply.
Are you a vampire? She asked, another time. Tom still didn't answer her.
In the end, she had done something very stupid. She had purposely cut her hand,

allowing herself to bleed on the pages in the hopes of gaining Tom's attention. It had
hurt, and she had felt very dizzy afterwards, but it had had the intended effect.
Tom wrote back.
Stupid girl. I'd thank you, but you wouldn't be worth the effort to be honest. Now, give
me back to Harry. His writing was red this time, still cursive and pretty, and Ginny
admired it despite the horridness of the words. She felt rather smug knowing that he
was writing back to her in her blood. He was hers now, whether he admitted it or not.
Not Harry's.
So she had kept doing it, kept bleeding on him. But instead of written replies, Tom
now drew her pictures. Small doodles, usually of stick figures, but it weren't hard to
guess that the mutilated figures lying on its back was meant to be her. Tom
repeatedly drew pictures of her dead, but Ginny ignored them all, brushing them off
as unimportant because Tom was hers now. He wouldn't hurt her.
No, no I wouldn't. I would never hurt you. Just like you would never hurt me.
You'd help me, wouldn't you Ginny? If I asked. I'm asking now. I need your
help. I need you to do something for me. Two somethings actually. Please,
Ginny. Please? There is no one else I can ask. No one else I can trust. Only
you. The voice was inside of her head, gentle and loving, and it was stupid of her to
listen to it, stupid of her to continue to cut open her hand, but there was nothing else
she could do. Tom was like the Imperious curse: she just couldn't resist, couldn't fight
back. She had to obey.
Harry found Ginny outside a few hours later. There was blood on her hands, and as
he was walking over Harry could hear the sounds of birds squawking and necks
snapping before silence stretched across Hogwarts' grounds. But he said nothing
about the dead roosters and hens, and nothing about the claw-scratches on Ginny's
arms.
"Give me my diary, Weasley," he ordered, not actually expecting her to comply. Harry
pulled his wand out of his sleeve and held it, ready to force her to give the diary
back.
Ginny had done one of the things Tom had told her to do. She didn't want to do the
other, but Tom had asked, Tom had made her promise. So she handed over the
diary without a fuss, a horrid scowl on her face, and her eyes watered as Harry
snatched her only friend from her shaking fingers.
He turned without a word, the diary clutched against his chest.

About time, Harry, Tom wrote, and Harry could see him, now that he knew what Tom
looked like, plain as day glaring at him in annoyance. I was getting rather sick of her
pitiful whining. Despite her uses, she really was very annoying.
Most little girls are, Harry wrote back, pulling a quill from his pocket. It had become a
habit of his, to walk everywhere with a quill and a vial of ink, just in case Tom
decided to speak to him.
This one particularly so though, he wrote. Harry thought about writing how whinny
Tom was, but then thought better of it, and tucked the diary into his pocket along with
the quill. He went back into the castle, and to the dungeons to seek out Draco and
Theodore, and he didn't notice how Ginny stared after him.
Go back inside, Ginny, the voice in her head told her. Don't tell anyone about me.
Not even Harry. No one can know about us, Ginny.
"Don't leave me," she whispered out loud, despite knowing that no one was around
to hear her.
I won't leave you. Don't worry! I'll let you know when it's safe for us to meet
again. Then the presence in her mind was gone, and Ginny Weasley shook her
head harshly, blinking up at the sun and the sky, and wondered how she had come
to be outside.
XXX
February 14th 1993.
Whose side are you on, Harry? You are my other self's Horcrux, you possess
another part of his soul, being myself, and yet. Yet you never speak about him, or his
plans, or our goals, and you don't ask about the Chamber. What are you going to do
when He rises again? Whose side will you choose?
Harry would have probably told Tom about his indecision, about his desire to wait
and bide his time until the Dark Lord returned, but now he knew better. Tom had told
him that Voldemort could read what they were writing, and he had spent the last
month worrying about all of the past things he had written and whether they had
sounded disloyal or rebellious, and whether Voldemort would decide to kill him
based off of his private conversations with an empty book.
I don't want to talk about it right now, Harry wrote back sloppily. He had textbooks
pilled upon the library table in front of him, scribbling notes onto a piece of
parchment that was balanced on his laps.

Hermione sat opposite him, watching him curiously out of the corner of her eyes.
She still hadn't told Harry what she had found while she had been researching his
ability to use Parseltongue, and she wasn't sure if she ever would. Harry was
researching the Chamber of Secrets now, as he had been for the past week, and
she was helping him because the more Hermione knew about how little Harry knew,
the more she trusted him again, the more she believed in him and not the worrying
rumours that were circulating in the castle.
She didn't say anything when Harry scowled and shoved the diary away from him. It
was happening more often lately, Harry seemed to be angry with the black book
more often than not now and Hermione wondered what he was writing in it that
would upset him so much. He used to smile while writing it in, she remembered.
She leant forward curiously, keeping her eyes on Harry until satisfied that he wasn't
watching her, and then she peeked down at the open page.
Harry's words were gone, but Tom had left his reply upon the sheet. You'll have to
pick a side eventually. There is no fair in love and war, not for anyone, but especially
not for you. It read as if Harry were writing someone a letter, or composing a tragic
love story of some kind, but Hermione felt deep within her gut that it was neither of
those things. She thought, as insane as it sounded, as if the words were not from
Harry, but addressed to him, as if someone were writing back to him.
But that was ridiculous, she told herself. Then, she promptly turned away from the
diary and began to read about Slytherin's monster, all innuendos aside, it was
apparently quite large.
XXX
Thanks for reading. According to my notes... Year 2 will be ending shortly... Time
skips ftw! :P

Chapter 29
I'm back to Uni this week, so don't expect to see much of me. Sigh. During the
holidays I work 1 day a week... but now that I'm back in Uni, and for more days than
I was last semester I'm somehow working 5 days a week? I actually have an 8-day
week, it's ridiculous. And I'm exhausted and it's only Sunday! :(
Words: 4,100
Chapter 29
March 9th 1993.
This school year seemed to be passing by much faster than the last had, and days
were beginning to blur into one another as school work piled up and Tom continued
to torment Harry about picking a 'side'. There had been no more attacks, but Ginny
Weasley had come close to molesting Harry at one point, throwing herself at him
pathetically while crying, only to be pulled away by Harry's other stalker, Ronald
Weasley. His mind was preoccupied by other things, more important things than
school socialising; the choice between light and dark, and Tom's bias nudges in the
'right' direction were almost overwhelming him.
So it was no surprise that Harry had forgotten that there were still three more
Quidditch matches left that year. Ravenclaw happened to be playing Hufflepuff that
day, but Gryffindor were playing in both of the other matches, later in the year. This
would be Harry's last match of the season, and he was in no way prepared for it.
He sat on one of the wooden benches in the changing room, hunched over with his
head in his hands.
"I've missed so many practises!" He whispered, peeking out between his fingers as
Roger Davis walked passed.
"You're brilliant. Don't worry about it." The Captain said, shrugging. "Just make sure
you catch the Snitch, or, you know, we have no chance of winning the House Cup
from Gryffindor."
"No pressure then," Harry muttered to himself as the older boy walked away. The
rest of the team were already waiting, broom in hand, by the exit of the changing
room. He was alone, sitting on a bench, when they filed out in silence.
"POTTER!" One of his teammates shouted back at him.

Harry stood, and grabbed his broom. He made his way onto the pitch, mounting his
broom nervously eyes darting around the stadium as he tried to spot anyone he
knew. He took off, floating lazily into the sky. Unconsciously, his hand moved to pat
at the pocket of his Quidditch robe, where Tom's diary was hidden away. Even angry
at the Horcrux, Harry hadn't wanted to leave him behind, in case someone else tried
to steal it or read whatever Tom had replied to Harry's last "fuck off, please"
message. If he hadn't known what Tom was, or what Tom was capable of, Harry
might have been afraid of how dependant he had become on Tom's presence or
opinion. They only fought over Harry's inability to pick a side, or to at least explain to
Tom without Voldemort over-reading their conversation about wanting to wait and
see how Voldemort reacted to him in person. But Harry valued Tom's advice in
regards to every other subject under the sun, including the Chamber of Secrets. He
still didn't know where it was located, but he and Hermione (with hints from Tom) had
managed to find out nearly everything else about it.
Harry felt the breath leave him as a Bludger slammed straight into his thigh. A
whimper left his mouth, even as he bit down on his lip, hands fisting around the
broom in agony as he tried not to pass out. His leg was fractured, or broken, and the
pain was indescribable. Black spots swam in and out of his vision, and Harry shook
his head wildly to clear his sight, but that only served to make him dizzy.
Gold spots came into view. Harry blinked slowly, frowning as the multiple dots shrank
and came together to make one large golden sphere. Unable to believe his luck,
Harry stretched out one arm, the other still clinging desperately to his broom, and he
snatched the golden Snitch out of the air just as another Bludger came towards him.
He twisted on his broom, swinging upside down to avoid a second hit, but
unfortunately Harry also let go of his broom.
He was falling.
Flying, he realized, spreading out his arms like wings, as he slowly descended to the
ground. Green eyes locked with a very specific red-gaze, a yew wand pointed at
Harry to slow his fall, and Harry tried to offer Voldemort a smile before everything
went black.
When he came to, Lockhart was leaning over him, his wand running up and down
the length of Harry's thigh.
"Nothing is broken, and," he waved the wand again as he spoke softly, "now nothing
is wrong with you at all."
"Thank you," Harry whispered, nodding his head and reaching out for Lockhart's

offered hand.
One of the Professor's hands was around Harry's wrists, and the other drifted lower
to brush against the muddied pocket of Harry's robe. "You need to be more careful,"
Voldemort warned.
Harry looked up at the elder Wizard, eyebrows furrowed, "yeah, I know, I should
have been paying attention to the game. It was stupid."
"I'm not talking about Quidditch, Harry," the Wizard said, voice low enough so that
only Harry could hear what he was saying. "You need to be careful not to become
too dependent. Tom won't always be here, as I'm sure you're aware."
Harry narrowed his eyes in thought. Of course Voldemort would use Tom to return to
power, so Tom would have to 'die' or suffer the Horcrux equivalent to death in order
to make way for his elder self. Harry pursed his lips as he came to that conclusion.
He would miss Tom, but perhaps... He looked at Voldemort through curious eyes,
trying to imagine the Dark Lord as Tom had appeared, happy and eager to be close
to Harry. Maybe Voldemort would take on some of Tom's characteristics, share some
of the same pleasures; maybe Tom wouldn't truly be dead? Harry snorted, pulling his
arm away from the Dark Lord. Whether Tom stayed or went completely, Harry would
still be that much closer to being forced to pick a side.
"He is aware, as well, and as they say, Harry," Lockhart's eyes narrowed in
something akin to worry, but there was also anger in that gaze as their eyes locked,
"desperate men will do desperate things."
"Isn't it desperate times call for desperate measures?" Harry questioned, hand
patting at the diary in his pocket.
Voldemort's lips curled back, teeth bared in a vicious grin as his eyes travelled over
Harry's form and landed on the land within the robe pocket. "From Tom's point of
view? Yes." The Dark Lord turned his back on the boy, back straight and shoulders
stiff and he made his way off of the Quidditch pitch. It was only after Professor
Lockhart was out of sight, that the rest of the Ravenclaw team ran towards him.
"Are you ok?" Davis asked, wringing his hands in front of his stomach.
Cho grinned at him, pulling him into a quick hug. "You caught the Snitch!"
"Lockhart was sooo worried about you, Potter. Teacher's pet." Someone nudged his
shoulder playfully, grinning down at him.

Harry nodded dutifully at them all, but his attention was on the diary within his pocket
and on the man whose soul inhabited it. Voldemort had all but implied that Tom
would hurt him...
Harry brushed it off. Thinking about the diary during a Quidditch match had gotten
him injured. There was a time and a place for everything, and now was not Tom's
time. He brushed his fingers over the worn black cover one more time, and withdrew
his hand from his pocket. He smiled widely, arms circling the neck of the man who
was tugging him forward, hugging him tightly. His fingers brushed against blond hair,
and Harry leant happily into Lucius' embrace. "I've missed you."
"Never, ever do that again!" Lucius hissed, pulling back to look down at Harry's
sweaty face. Harry grinned, shrugging his shoulders lightly, unable to promise that
he wouldn't get hurt during a Quidditch game again, but at least it wouldn't be until
next year. "And I missed you also, lovely."
Evan Rosier appeared behind Lucius, raising an eyebrow over Lucius' shoulder at
his blushing son. "And did no one miss me, hmm?" He questioned with a small smirk
on his Polyjuiced mouth.
XXX
April 11th 1993.
It was Easter Sunday, and the Muggleborns were celebrating in the Great Hall by
tucking in to a rather fancy feast put together by the Hogwarts house elves. Halfbloods and Purebloods were sitting at their respective tables, eating the food and
scowling at anyone who happened to have said a prayer before they began to eat.
Draco was muttering loudly about how disgraceful it all was, pandering to their
Mudblood beliefs. Theodore sat beside him, nodding his head at the right times, and
spooning turkey and beef and potatoes into his mouth when he wasn't required to
agree out loud. Their usual Harry-shaped-buffer was absent from dinner, and Theo
snorted as he imaged conversing with Draco Malfoy a year ago, before Harry had
forced them to befriend each other. He would have stabbed the blond with his fork
before the Headmaster had even finished giving his speech, the brunette thought.
"What are you grinning about?" Draco asked, scowling.
"Just wondering where Harry is."
"Yeah," Draco looked around the Hall, talking softly. "I haven't really seen him
outside of class in a while now. He's always with the Mudblood or that stupid diary of
his."

"Jealous, Malfoy?" Theodore asked. He grinned widely, as Malfoy scoffed in

response and turned his face away. "That was a yes," he said on his friend's behalf.
Harry had considered going to dinner, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity to
spend time alone with Tom. The closer they came to exams, the harder Hermione
pushed him to study. He was spending more time with her than he had thought he
would have, and Harry wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. He liked her, he
supposed, but he didn't trust her. He didn't think he would ever trust her. She
certainly didn't trust him fully, if the half-glances and suspicious glares were any
indication, and she definitely didn't like that Harry continued to write in the diary even
after it had slammed itself closed on her hand the week before. Harry had tried to
pass it off as a rather strong breeze, but Hermione wasn't buying it. Harry knew it
was because Tom didn't want to be touched by a Mudblood, but Hermione wasn't
sure what it had been, but she knew there was definitely something wrong with the
diary. Harry had managed to escape researching in the library with her, because
obviously she was researching him and his behaviour and his diary, and having him
there to run interference would be counter-productive.
I need to speak to you, about my loyalties, about my decisions, and my dreams and
my hopes. Does that make me sound like a girl? Harry grimaced as he wrote the
words, wincing as he imagined what Dudley or Vernon would have said in the preEvan years about his 'pansy whining'.
Tom replied calmly, comfortingly, no. That is natural, Harry. To want to confide in
somebody you trust, somebody you care for. And I'm honoured that you chose me.
Harry lifted his pen again, forgetting that Voldemort could read the words he was
planning on writing, forgetting that he would no longer be able to claim neutrality or
indecisiveness if his decision was on paper and clear and plain and Iavailable/I to
the Dark Lord himself. Before he could write anything though, Tom fortunately began
to write instead.
Don't write anything here. You know my other self will be able to read it, and he won't
be happy with whatever you are planning on saying. Especially since you are saying
it to me. He doesn't trust me, Harry, doesn't want you near me. He watches you
more and more, Tom paused, and the writing slowly began to disappear from view.
Sometimes I imagine I can feel him beside me while you are sleeping.
"He watches me sleep?" Harry said out loud, shuddering lightly at the thought. No,
Harry thought, the Dark Lord had better things to do than watch him sleep. Tom must
have been mistaken, or it might have been Lockhart's house elf searching in the
dark for the diary, or maybe- no, Tom wouldn't lie to him.

How am I meant to talk to you then? Harry wrote, fingers clenched tightly around the
quill. Ink dripped onto the page as Harry waited for a response, holding his breath in
anticipation.
We'll have to hurry. I don't know if my other self is watching, waiting for this moment.
He won't let us meet, Harry. He'll pull you away from me if he knows what we are
planning, or block us if he is speedy enough. So hurry! Hurry! Fall into me.
"What?" Harry whispered. The last time he had been inside of the diary had been as
a result of a potion. But he didn't have more of that potion on hand. Before he could
question what Tom meant, the diary began to glow. A bright light rose up from the
seam of the book, from the spine, where the pages met and were bound together.
Light hid the seam and the string and the glue. The pages disappeared from view,
the writing faded out of sight, hidden beneath the glare of white that blinded Harry
momentarily.
He felt himself falling, like he was falling from the sky or into a Pensieve. He flailed,
arms flinging in all directions as he tried to hold onto something, ground himself
somehow. And then, suddenly, there was pain. All consuming pain welled up within
him, beginning with the scar in his forehead and spreading throughout his body until
it reached the very core of his being, and then it constricted. Harry felt the tightening
in his chest, gasped and crying out, arms wrapping around his torso in a feeble
attempt to protect himself. He was still falling, but now he was falling backwards,
away from the diary. He hit the floor with a groan, curling up on himself, knees
against his chest. His eyes fluttered, then stayed closed, and the pain in his scar
faded completely but Harry had already lost consciousness.
The diary remained on the desk, Tom's angry sentence unread, until Theodore Nott
came back from lunch. The brunette fell to his knees beside his friend and fosterbrother. "Harry?" He whispered, shaking the boy's shoulder, but Harry didn't stir. He
looked around, wide-eyed, but there was no one else in the Slytherin Common
Room. Everyone else was at lunch, and Theo didn't know if Harry actually had any
friends in Ravenclaw and he certainly didn't know the password so he couldn't even
return Harry to his bed. With a deep breath, Theo rose to his feet. He was about to
go find a teacher, or a prefect, someone who would be able to help Harry, but then
he caught sight of the diary.
In blood red ink, which was actually the blood of the youngest Weasley, Tom had
angrily scrawled one word across the double pages of the diary. Theo traced the
word, flinching as he read it, and then he looked worriedly down at his friend. It
wouldn't do for anyone to read it, for anyone to even know Harry had written
"VOLDEMORT!" in giant red letters in his secret diary, because then what else might

have Harry been writing that he shouldn't be?

Because he was a good friend, and because Harry's father was decent enough to
take him in after his own was sent to Azkaban, Theo closed the diary and tucked it
into his own pocket. He'd give it back in the morning, after he knew what was wrong
with his friend. But until then, he carefully dragged Harry to a sofa and lay him down
gently, before leaving the common room.
Lockhart followed him back inside five minutes later. He dismissed Theodore, and he
knew better than to try and summon a Horcrux (as he had made them all immune to
any form of conjuring magic), and he folded his arms across his chest. Voldemort
looked down on the boy that Evan Rosier had offered up as an heir. The boy was
pale, but otherwise looked to be sleeping peacefully. Perhaps it hadn't been
necessary to hurt him as much as he had, but at least this way Harry would be
deterred from trying to enter the diary again.
Tom was becoming far too fascinated with the Boy-Who-Lived, and the boy who may
have to be killed eventually, and Voldemort didn't like that. It wouldn't do to have
them in close contact with one another. And when Harry awoke, Voldemort promised
himself, as he took a seat on a chair opposite the boy and set about waiting
impatiently, Harry would be forced to hand over the diary.
Whether he liked it or not.
XXX
May 8th 1993.
There had been another attack. Two girls had apparently been petrified, and Harry
had nodded as he was told and then turned to walk away, uninterested. And then he
had heard their names.
Penelope Clearwater.
And Hermione Granger.
Harry had frozen in place, feeling as if someone had cast a 'Stupefy' on him.
Something clenched painfully within his chest, but he swallowed away his discomfort
and his worry, and turned to face the person who had been speaking to him
originally, the person he had so easily dismissed moment ago.
"Weasley, repeat that now!" He ordered.

Ron looked momentarily wary, but then a pleased grin crossed his face at the
thought of Harry Potter willing engaging in a conversation with him. "Granger and
Clearwater were found in a corridor out by the library. Both of them were petrified,
and Granger was carrying a mirror. Well at least that's what the Professors are telling
us anyway, but I heard from Michael Corner who heard from someone else who
heard from the guy who found them that Clearwater was dead!"
Harry didn't wait to hear anymore. He turned on his heel, heading back in the
direction that he had been leaving, and made his way silently to the Infirmary.
Seated beside Hermione's bed, he swallowed nervously and reached out to clasp
her hand lightly. "I'm sorry that you got dragged into this."
He let her go, looking around for Penelope but not finding her. A few beds were filled,
Creevey was in one, petrified, and Nearly Headless Nick was hovering over another.
A few Gryffindors were hovering around another bed at the very back of the room,
but Harry knew that that injury was Quidditch related. No one seemed to be paying
Hermione very much attention, not even Madame Pomfrey who was hovering
around another bed drawing the curtains sadly. Harry wondered, briefly, if Clearwater
had died, then thought better of it. Surely Flitwick would have informed their House
at least. And Dumbledore surely would have called the girl's parents into the school!
He took another quick look around, but no one was looking at him, and so he felt
safe enough to pull the diary from his pocket.
I will find a way for us to meet! Tom had written, and Harry imagined him sitting
cross-legged in the Chamber with a smug look on his face as he plotted and felled
students with Slytherin's Basilisk.
Harry pulled a quill from his pocket and the vial of ink, and dipped the tip into it. He
wrote carefully, cautiously, glancing up after every word to see if anyone was looking.
Was it really necessary to attack one of my friends?
Voldemort had been trying hard to get the diary from him, and so far Harry had
managed to avoid handing it over by pawning if off on his friends when Lockhart
wanted to talk to him or when they had detention together, or by avoiding the
Professor completely when he could. But Harry didn't put it passed Voldemort to
have convinced some of the students to watch out for the diary and take it from him.
The house elf was still trying to take it from him, maybe on Voldemort's behalf?
Ginny had taken it from him after all, and who was to say that Voldemort wasn't
behind that? Maybe he had planned it all? Merely pretending to search frantically for
the diary, all the while knowing who had it, who was making Tom stronger, and then

suggesting Evan use the potion on Harry so that he wouldn't have to come clean
about his plot and the diary's whereabouts.
But Voldemort didn't lie to his friends, Harry thought, remembering what Tom had
told him. Evan had said the same thing on occasion. But was Harry really
Voldemort's friend? He hadn't taken a side yet, and until he did there was nothing
stopping Voldemort from considering him to be the enemy.
A chair scrapped against the ground and Harry looked up warily. One of the
Gryffindors were leaving the room, followed seconds later by another. Harry watched
the door close behind them, but the remaining Lions still didn't look over at him.
I didn't realise you considered the Mudblood a friend, or I would have changed my
plans. Tom replied, and Harry thought he might have been annoyed because there
were several angry looking ink blotches on the page, and usually Harry was the only
one who wrote messily.
Harry didn't know whether Hermione was a real friend or not, but he needed to keep
his options open. If he didn't pick the Dark Lord, then having a Mudblood friend
would be good for his image, would make the Light more trusting of him, more
sympathetic. But it seemed to already be alienating his friends. Draco wouldn't talk
to him while Hermione was around, and Tom sounded angry at the mention of her
name, but Evan tolerated her in small doses, while he was a butterfly and not a
human, but that was good enough for Harry at the moment. He was admittedly
rather fond of her, but he didn't think he could ever trust her, not with every part of
himself, like he could with Evan and Draco and Lucius. Lucius would undoubtedly
hate her, Harry thought with a smile.
He didn't respond to Tom's reply, too preoccupied in overthinking his relationship to
Hermione, and her relationships with his friends. Tom didn't write again either,
otherwise occupied himself although Harry wouldn't know that until later.
XXX
May 9th 1993.
Harry waited in the infirmary, and eventually fell asleep in the chair beside
Hermione's bed. He woke late the next morning, having been overlooked by
Pomfrey who thought he was pale looking and could do with the sleep. By the time
he was awake and ready to start the day Harry had already missed his first two
classes. Madame Pomfrey had given him a note, and with it scrunched up in his
hand, Harry ran the whole way to potions.

Draco wasn't in the class.

And he was so busy during lunch trying to catch up with the two classes he had
missed, that he failed to notice that Draco hadn't been around all day. In fact, Draco
hadn't gone back to the Slytherin dorms the night before either, and no one had seen
him since Ginny Weasley had stopped him outside of Myrtle's bathroom and he had
waved Pansy on.
That night, Theodore appeared at the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower. A prefect
answered, and then went to find Harry, who always slept in his dorm as apparently
there were school rules that insisted he did so.
"Draco still hasn't come back to the dorm, Harry," Theo said before Harry could ask
what he wanted. "And he isn't in the Hospital wing, and he isn't on the Quidditch
pitch because tonight is the Slytherin practise and he didn't turn up. I haven't seen
him all day, and neither had Professor Snape."
Harry whirled around, racing back through the common room and into his dormitory.
The diary was tucked under his pillow, and Harry grabbed at it, frantically flicking
through the pages as his curious dorm-mates watched.
"VOLDEMORT!" was still bold and bright on the centre pages, continuously goading
the Dark Lord who could read it still as Tom had yet to let it fade. Beneath it though,
in smaller, neater writing, were words that made Harry's heart jump into his chest.
What had Tom been thinking?
She helped us again, Harry. She brought him to us. Malfoy is in the Chamber with
me now. Come and get him, and then we'll talk.
XXX
Thank you for reading. I am relatively certain that there is only one chapter left of
Year 2. And I would love to hear what you think I'm planning to do! Feed me
reviews... or make me tea? Your choice :P

Chapter 30
Hey, sorry for the delay. But real life is wild! New Divide is with my beta, and I've
finally finished Spyfest, but I'm also going to Brussels for a week Sunday night, and
when I get back I have 3 uni assignments due in, so... time, time, time, so little of
you.
Words: 4,078
Chapter 30
May 10th 1993.
Harry hadn't been able to find the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. He had
searched through all of Hermione's notes, he had skipped classes so that he could
re-read the books that he and Hermione had been using throughout the year to
research the Chamber, and he had even asked the professors. But nothing and no
one seemed to know where the Chamber was. Except Voldemort, but Harry wasn't
sure if it was safe to ask him. There was Tom, but Tom was refusing to speak to him
completely once he realized that Harry was angry at him. Of course he was angry!
Tom had kidnapped his best friend, his future son-in-law; the boy was practically his
brother, and now he was lying in the dirty, dank Chamber and Harry didn't know if
there was any way to get him back.
If you wanted to talk, you should have just told me where the entrance is! Harry
wrote angrily. He flipped the diary shut, knowing that Tom was too busy sulking to
respond, and threw it away from him. Horcrux or otherwise, he didn't care what
happened to the diary now. He had other things to worry about, more pressing things
to concern himself with.
Lucius and Narcissa had been summoned to the school. Draco had been missing for
nearly two days after all, and it wasn't like Harry could tell the professors, "oh don't
worry about Draco, he's safe. He's just chilling in Slytherin's Chamber with the heir
himself. He's having a right laugh." He couldn't show them the diary, because it
would probably get him arrested, and he didn't have any other proof. But he could
tell Lucius, only... that would have the effect of making the blond wary of his Lord,
and Harry didn't want that. It wasn't like Tom's obsession was Voldemort's fault.
Voldemort had tried to warn him after that Quidditch match, after all! This was
Harry's fault, and as cowardly as it was, Harry didn't want Lucius to know that and
hate him for it. So, until they found Draco, his parents would be at Hogwarts, and
Harry would have to avoid them completely while trying to find the Chamber of
Secrets.

Piece of cake, he thought, running his hand tiredly down his face.
"You is to be giving back the diary!" A voice squeaked from behind a bookshelf.
Harry looked around the abandoned library. It was dark, and there was no one there,
not even Madam Pince. He tugged the cloak down from his shoulders, revealing
himself completely and he narrowed his eyes.
"Flut?" He asked softly, and sure enough the vengeful house elf slunk out of the
shadows. "Do you know where your master is?" The elf nodded. "Is he in the
Chamber?" Harry bit his lip, knowing it was a stretch to assume that the house elf
was working to get Tom back rather than to keep him in the diary. It should have
been the same agenda that Voldemort had, but lately whenever Harry saw the man
he seemed to imply, at least, that Tom would be better off away from them, in the
diary, concealed and trapped safely away.
When the house elf nodded again, Harry's breath caught in his throat. Of course, the
elf wanted to take the diary back from Harry, to give it to someone Voldemort did not
favour so that Tom could feed off of them and escape his prison. Despite the fact
that Voldemort had allowed him to take the diary, suggested it even, which sort of
worried Harry, the elf believed that he had stolen from the Dark Lord. He had several
times attempted to punish Harry for that. But Harry pushed that from his mind, that
didn't matter anymore, it wouldn't matter, not if Flut would do what he wanted now.
"Will you take me to him?" Harry asked. He leant down off his chair, fingers
scrabbling at the edges of the book, until he had a firm grip on it. Diary in hand, he
sat up straight and looked back at the house elf. "Will you take us to him?"
XXX
The Chamber was worse than Harry remembered it being. But, he supposed, Tom's
memories of it had been fifty years old, and things tended to corrode over time.
The house elf had left him in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, with a quick nod to the
sinks that didn't work, but had easily slid out of Harry's way once he spoke
Parseltongue. Myrtle herself had watched him with wide eyes, half hidden behind a
cubicle door, glasses sliding down her transparent nose.
"She brought him here, the red haired girl." Myrtle told him, sounding scared. "Are
you going to get him back?"
Harry hadn't answered. He had thrown himself into the pipe, arms crossed over his
chest to keep them from flailing, and his legs straight but not stiff. It wouldn't do to

break them when he landed, and so he tried to keep himself relaxed. He landed
hard, feet hitting the ground and he stumbled forward, landing awkwardly on his face
in a pile of bones. Harry had twisted away from them; cringing at the rattling noises
they made, like wind-chimes from Hell, and pulled himself to his feet.
And then he started walking.
He eyed the water stains, and the puddles and the holes in the walls. He jumped
over exposed pipes and tried to avoid the Basilisk skin and the remains of the
monster's dinners.
"Tom?" He called, as he entered the only part of the Chamber that he had visited
before. "Are you here? Tom? To- Draco!"
The blonde was lying on the ground, his arm brushing water and his hair spread
around him like a halo. Harry knelt by his side, shaking his friend lightly.
"He isn't hurt. I've only Petrified him, I promise. I just wanted to see you. You
wouldn't have come to me if I had used anyone else." Harry turned around, still on
his knees, and looked up at Tom Riddle who was standing behind him. Pale hands
settled on Harry's shoulders, massaging gently. "I can Imperio him if you like, and
send him back to the school?"
"Will he be safe?" Harry questioned voice soft, eyes wary.
"The Basilisk is sleeping and there is nothing else here that is dangerous, except the
water," Tom said with a chuckle. "He won't need to speak to leave, just to enter."
"How did Ginny get the pipe to open?" Harry questioned, even as he nodded his
consent.
"Imperio! Eneverate!" Tom said, pointing Draco's own wand at the blonde. He
passed the wand to the dazed boy, pulling him to his feet. "Leave now, the way you
came, and report to a Professor. You won't remember anything. You don't know
where you've been. You don't remember, do you understand?"
"Yes," Draco intoned. He sounded empty, soulless, and Harry shuddered at the
sound, hoping that when the spell was lifted Draco would sound as he normally did,
act like he normally did, petulance and all.
"I taught her 'open' and 'close'. It's actually very easy to imitate the sounds if you
hear them often enough." The watched Draco go, standing side by side, both tense
and nervous. "I'm glad you came," Tom said at length, once they were alone.

"You knew I would have, Tom. I had to." Tom looked away from him and Harry
sighed. "Why did you take Draco? Why didn't you just tell me where the Chamber
was?"
"Would you have come? Even with my other self warning you away from me,
watching you, controlling you?" Tom reached for him, face twisted and fingers
digging into Harry's shoulders again. But he didn't look angry, just sad.
"I would have tried. You're my friend and I wanted to talk to you, Tom, but now
Draco's parents are here and they're terrified and Voldemort is angry, and
Dumbledore probably is too, and what am I supposed to say to them, Tom? Am I
supposed to lie to Draco's parents, or tell them the truth? And Dumbledore? What do
I say to him without getting myself arrested?"
"Voldemort won't let that happen, you know. He actually likes you. It's the reason he
doesn't want us to be in contact. He wants to keep you for himself, his minion, his
slave, his Harry, even though he hasn't admitted it yet. Even though he pretends to
himself that you are still enemies."
"And you? What am I to you?" His heart was beating hard in his chest, and there
was butterflies eating up his insides, and Harry half wished he had never come here.
"My friend. But I want so much more, Harry. I want you, all of you. It scares me and it
makes me angry, I don't know how I'm supposed to act around you, but I get jealous
when I think that you came here for Malfoy and not for me and-"
"I would have come here for you, if you had asked! But you didn't!" Harry shouted.
Tom didn't respond verbally. Instead, he stared at Harry, blue and green eyes
clashing, and then he lunged forward, mouths crushing against mouths and teeth
clanking together and there was blood as Tom bit down too hard on Harry's lip.
Harry shoved hard, and Tom found himself sprawled at the other boy's feet. Blue
eyes looked up, face scrunched in anger and mouth curling down, but Harry knew
Tom was more hurt than angry. "What?" He spat, "not good enough for you? Would
you prefer Voldemort?"
Harry choked on his response, face flushing red in annoyance and embarrassment.
"No!" He shouted, fingers curling at his sides. "It has nothing to do with him!"
"But you still don't want me?" The words made Harry flinch, and he looked at Tom.
Tom was staring back at him, wide eyed and sad, already knowing the answer.
"We've been together for a year, and you-" He trailed off, looking away from Harry.

"I'm with someone. He's a lot older than me, but he's willing to wait for me, and my
dad likes him. I think Voldemort even likes him, though Voldemort doesn't really like
anyone, so maybe not. Actually, I don't think Voldemort even really knows, I doubt
anyone thought it was important enough to tell him, and I haven't really spoken to
you about it, cause well, Lucius could get into trouble, and I don't want that. Wow,
take a breath, Harry," he said, chuckling.
Tom looked back up at him. "You met him before me?"
"A long time ago, yeah." Tom gritted his teeth, nodding his head fractionally. "He
makes me happy, and I think he loves me."
"Good." Tom cleared his throat, and that was the end of the conversation. He didn't
want to talk about his feelings, or Harry's rejection, any longer. He wasn't one to
dwell on feelings anyway, especially those which were unrequited. "Whose side are
you on, then? You can tell me!" He gave Harry a grin, like a shark, all teeth and
tongue, and Harry smiled back. He wasn't afraid of Tom, and he was glad that the
kiss hadn't changed anything between them, because he really needed his friend
right now.
"I don't know. I want to be on Voldemort's side, but what if he doesn't want me? Or if
he changes his mind, and decides I'm not worth it, and I've burnt all of my bridges?
What do I do then, Tom, if you aren't with me to give me advice?"
XXX
Voldemort watched Draco stumble out of the girls' bathroom. He had known as soon
as he had stopped Harry from falling into the diary that Tom would find another way
for them to meet. The entrance to the Chamber hadn't changed in the last fifty years,
which was nice to know, because the architecture of the school had changed several
times over since Slytherin was alive, and it had taken Tom years to trace the original
entrance to the girls' bathroom back when he was at school. It would have taken too
long to do so again, and time was of the essence where his past self was concerned.
Tom wanted Harry.
Not in the sense that Voldemort did, where he wanted to own and possess and
claim. He wanted to study Harry, study the Horcrux and the effects it had on the boy,
to own all of that power and to know he was the one Harry answered to. But Tom just
wanted him. The thought that Voldemort had once possessed the capacity to feel
almost scared the Dark Lord. What if those feelings were still there, buried deep
inside, beneath all of the apathy and dark magic and the hate? He had never taken a
lover. He had had sex, sure, just to see what it was like, but he had never felt

anything except during orgasm, but that, he had read, was natural. The orgasm part,
not the apathy. He didn't have friends, except Evan, who didn't seem to want to take
the hint, but a part of his soul felt both things for Harry Potter. Was he capable of
feeling them too, he wondered? Because if he was, Harry would be a weakness, a
danger to him, and that combined with the prophecy made it unsafe for him to keep
Harry alive.
But... to have the Boy-Who-Lived loyal to him, to keep his Horcrux safe, to make his
takeover of the Wizarding world that much easier with Harry by his side? Did the
pros outweigh the cons, or was it the other way around?
Voldemort didn't have any more time to think upon it, because Draco walked straight
into him, as if he hadn't noticed Professor Lockhart standing in the middle of the
corridor.
"I'm safe," the blonde whispered. "I don't remember where I was. I don't remember
anything." He walked away, stiff and jerkily, without waiting for a response, and
Voldemort let him go, knowing the spell he was under and that he could cancel it
himself when it was time.
He entered the bathroom. Myrtle had hidden herself when the Chamber had opened
again, and she stayed hiding as Voldemort levitated himself down the pipe and went
in search of Harry Potter.
XXX
"He wants you, and he needs me. I know he has plenty of other Horcruxes, my
original goal was to split my soul seven times, so if you were an unintentional
Horcrux then there must be five more out there not including myself and Voldemort.
Voldemort is bodiless. He won't use you, and I won't let him use me. That way, if you
really need me, I can be there for you."
They had spoken for a while, Harry reaching out after a moment to take hold of
Tom's hand and the elder boy hadn't pulled away. He listened silently to Harry's fears
and desires, and then he had given his opinion, calm and decisive while Harry
looked up at him trustingly. Mid-way through the conversation, neither of them
noticed Voldemort appear.
"What do you mean?" Harry frowned as Tom pulled their hands apart. They looked
at each other, Harry confused and Tom smiling sadly.
"Give me the diary, Harry?" The brunette handed it over unhesitantly, pulling it from
his robe pocket and dropping it into the pale outstretched hand. "I'll just refuse to

speak to anyone but you, and I'll keep that girls blood for when I really need it, and
you know I wouldn't harm you. If you need me, Harry, you'll know where I am.
Though," he paused and chuckled bitterly, "I doubt Voldemort will let me near you
now. He wants you all to himself."
Harry scoffed lightly, convinced that Tom was exaggerating at least a little, but he
didn't get a chance to say as such again. The diary had begun to glow, pale white at
first, and then brighter and brighter and Harry was forced to shield his eyes. From
where he stood, Voldemort did the same, covering his eyes with one hand and
turning his face away. When they both looked back to where Tom had been standing
there was no one there. The diary lay closed upon the floor, half on the cement and
half in the puddle, and Harry bent down to pick it up, shaking the water off of its
cover. The pages were dry, as they always were, and all of Tom's messages, the
ones that he had refused to delete, had finally vanished.
I'll miss you, Harry, Tom wrote, as Harry stroked each letter softly as it appeared.
"Miss you too." Harry whispered. He closed the diary, and just as he was about to
slip it into his pocket, a hand grabbed his wrist. Harry gasped, jumping almost a foot
in the air with fright and he whirled around to gape at Lord Voldemort.
Lockhart looked back at him, red eyes flashing. "I'll take that," he hissed, pulling the
diary from Harry's loose grip. He tucked it away inside of his robe, patting the pocket
down, and then turned to look back at Harry. His eyes skimmed over Harry's form,
taking in the dirt and dust smeared across his clothes and face, but he was
unharmed and that was all that mattered. "You should get back to the school."
He refused to think on what Tom had said. Yes, he wanted Harry, but certainly not in
the way that Tom had been implying!
He let Harry go, watching as the boy took off running towards the chamber door,
glancing once over his shoulder and then darting out of sight. He waited a moment,
considering talking to Tom, questioning him, or threatening him, and then decided
against it. Lord Voldemort wasn't easily intimidated, and definitely not by himself
anyway. As long as the diary was kept away from Harry, the boy would be safe, and
Evan would have no reason to panic, and Voldemort would have the time to think
about whether or not he should take Harry as his heir without worry about parts of
his soul seducing his... his what? His heir, his pupil, his follower's son? Because he
had plenty of that last category and he didn't care two figs about any of those
children. Why was Harry different? He considered again asking Tom, then decided
his sanity couldn't take it.

Instead he left the Chamber, diary tucked away inside of his pocket, and then later
within Lockhart's trunk, which was hurriedly packed. Defence Against the Dark Arts
professors hadn't last more than a year at a time since Voldemort had been refused
the position; now wasn't the time to change that habit. He made a fire call to Lucius
Malfoy, asking him to pass a message to Evan who wasn't reachable by floo, and
then he stepped into the green flames with his belongings and was gone.
XXX
May 30trh 1993.
It had been over two weeks and no one could find Gilderoy Lockhart. Lucius, who
had been staying in one of the guest rooms at the time of the man's disappearance,
swore he had seen Lockhart heading into the girls' bathroom, and so the rumours
had sprung from that, and somehow it was now common knowledge that Lockhart,
of all people, was the Heir Of Slytherin, and once he had realized that Harry Potter
was about to capture him he had fled the castle. Harry wasn't sure how his name
had been dragged into it all, but apparently someone had seen him leave the same
bathroom a little while after Lockhart was meant to have entered it.
"Well done, mate," Someone praised him, slapping him on the back a little harder
than necessary. Draco glared on Harry's behalf, and on his other side, Theo shot
them a nasty look.
"And this too shall fade," Theo said, grimly.
"This too shall pass, you mean?"1 Harry corrected. He and Evan hadn't had much
opportunity for 'quote wars' lately, but he could still hold his own in the 'knowing
completely pointless sentences said by dead people ages ago' game.
"Yeah whatever," Draco grumbled, "he means they'll leave you alone eventually.
Shouldn't you be running along to the Infirmary? Granger is being un-petrified as we
speak, and Merlin knows what you'll do if you miss it! Perhaps you'll cry?" Draco
sneered in his direction, still rather annoyed that Harry had gone to visit Hermione in
the hospital wing in the first place, because if he hadn't then they would have been
together and Ginny wouldn't have been able to kidnap him. "I still haven't forgiven
you, by the way," he added, eyes narrowed.
"Yeah, you've said like a hundred times, Draco." Harry grinned suddenly, reaching
out to squeeze Draco's arm. "I'm not going to the hospital wing. I'm where I want to
be, where I need to be." He reached out to grab Theo's arm as well, and all three
walked down the corridor arm in arm. "I'm with family."

XXX
June 19th 1993.
The Hogwarts Express squealed to a stop, rivers of smoke trailing behind the glossy
red steam-engine. It sat on the tracks, chugging lightly. Harry looked around at his
friends, a grin on his face. Voldemort hadn't been seen since he had taken the diary,
and Lucius and Narcissa had left the school soon after, but Evan was gone,
presumably following his Lord. But Harry didn't let it disappoint him. He had a new
brother this summer, and Theodore was just as excited about moving into his own
home.
The Malfoys raised their hands in greeting as the three boys stepped off of the train.
Two of them were teenagers now, Harry being the youngest, and he was probably
the only one who wished Evan was there to give him a welcome back hug. Lucius
patted each of them on the shoulder once; his hand lingering on Harry's slightly
longer than the rest. Narcissa smiled coolly, eyes darting around the platform, and
narrowing on a group of redheads who were staring in their direction. Ginny
Weasley, in particular, was glaring daggers. Hermione stood beside her, tears in her
eyes, and Harry continued to ignore as he had done since she had woken up in the
hospital wing alone.
"Come on, boys," Lucius said, tone quiet and reserved. "It is time to go home."
Harry looked up with wide eyes, unable to hide his excitement. He had assumed that
Lucius would be dropping Theo and himself to Number 4, but apparently they were
all going back to Malfoy Manor until Evan returned. He would be spending days,
maybe weeks, with Lucius, without his father around. And he was almost a teenager,
just over a month to go, until statistically speaking he was supposed to sexually
mature.
Was he a bad son for hoping that Evan stayed gone until August?
Lucius seemed to know what he was thinking, because the man chuckled lowly,
lustfully. He looked down at Harry, stepping into the floo first and pulling the child into
his arms. "Patience is a virtue," he told the brunette. Harry blushed, bright and red,
and managed to grin up at his elder... whatever Lucius was to him. "Malfoy Manor,"
the blond called out, dropping the floo power into the fireplace.
They disappeared in a swirl of green, leaving the platform behind them. Second year
was over. Tom was gone, and the Chamber was closed, and Harry was determined
to move on from it all, without Hermione or Voldemort shadowing him. And until his
third year was due to start, Harry didn't want to think about anything school related.

He fell out of the fireplace, into the Malfoy's atrium and into Lucius' arms.
This summer, he was determined to have a good time. There would be no worrying
about essays or exams or catching the Snitch to beat Gryffindor. No Horcruxes or
Basilisks or stalker redheaded creeps, of either gender. Just normal teenage fun.
Teenage fun, Harry thought, looking up at Lucius. The man held him tightly, bending
down slightly and Harry raised his head in invitation. "I've missed you," he
whispered. Lucius' lips met his own in the next second, sliding lightly and chastely
against one another's, and it was nothing like the forceful passionate kiss that he
had shared with Tom.
This one was much better.
"I've missed you too, lovely."
XXX
1 " "This, too, shall pass," Abraham Lincoln. Originated in the bible in a story about
King Solomon.
And here endeth Year 2. I need to sit down and completely plan out Year 3 now,
because I have the gist of the rest of the story, but not the real nitty gritty. Wish me
luck, though it won't be happening for some time... On the plus side, almost finished
New Divide :P

Chapter 31
Sorry for the delay. New Divide 16 is with my beta, and I've added several oneshots, and I've also FINALLY updated The Abyss, but typically FFnet went down at
the time and won't let anyone review, so I'm a little annoyed that it took me 2 days to
do 15k words and got 8 reviews for it... But yeah, I've finally planned Year 3 out, redid the notes I lost, and should start updating more regularly again.
Words: 4,511
Chapter 31
June 22nd 1993.
It was Dudley's birthday. With Evan scouring the world for a way to resurrect Lord
Voldemort, he obviously wouldn't be at Privet Drive, so maybe this year Dudley
would have a real birthday, like the ones he used to have before Harry turned eight?
Harry closed his eyes, lying back into Draco's lap, and thought about it. They were
both spread out on the same sofa, Draco sitting and reading a book, and Harry lying
across him, just thinking. Evan had been gone since the middle of May, and
originally Harry had wished that Evan would stay away long enough for Harry to hit
his teenage years, so that maybe Lucius would be willing to move their relationship
further, but so far the man had acted as the perfect gentleman with him. There were
kisses, and the occasional time when Lucius would slide his hands lower and cup
Harry's rear, but aside from that there was nothing happening between them. As
much as Harry would have loved for something to happen, he was starting to believe
he would much rather have his father home for his thirteenth birthday.
"You ok?" Theodore Nott asked. The elder boy was watching him with a curious look
on his face, his dark hair hanging over his eyes messily. Theo flicked it away, then
picked up his Potions essay when Harry didn't answer him.
Harry let him reread over his essay for a moment, thinking that perhaps he should
make a start on his summer homework too. "I miss dad," Harry said at last.
"I was really looking forward to getting to know him. It's such a shame," Theo said
softly, offering Harry a smile.
Draco scowled at them both, lowering his book so that they could both see his dark
glare fully. "You're both pathetic. Harry you should be honoured! Your father will be
the one to help the Dark Lord return! And Theo, you shouldn't call it a 'shame'. You

should know better, you've always known you were going to be a Death Eater and
you should take more pride in it!"
"Draco," Harry tried to say, but Draco just smacked him lightly across the head.
"You know I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying, it'll be a shame that he'll miss
Harry's birthday, is all. And I'll have Yule to get to know Evan anyway! I'm not saying
anything against the Dark Lord, Draco, so don't get like that. Honestly, you're acting
like I've sullied his honour or something." Both Harry and Theo chuckled lightly, but
Draco continued to scowl.
"Ah come on, Dray. We don't mean anything by it!" Harry said, pushing himself into a
sitting position. "You'd miss Lucius if he had gone."
Lucius watched them from the doorway, listening to them in silence. While he was
proud of the loyalty his son was showing his Lord, even after having been told that
by association Voldemort had been the one to take him into the Chamber of Secrets,
he was also a little disappointed for Harry. He, himself, hated missing Draco's
birthdays. He knew Harry was missing Evan, and doubtlessly wherever he was with
Voldemort, Evan was missing Harry too. But Lucius took a deep breath, entering the
room, and promised to make Harry's birthday this year the best one yet.
"Enough of that now, boys." Lucius told them, stopping beside the sofa and his son.
"How are you getting on with your homework?" Draco and Theo immediately started
telling Lucius about what they hadn't done yet and needed help with, or what they
had finished. Harry bit his bottom lip bashfully, and when Lucius met his eyes he just
shrugged, because he hadn't done any of his yet. But it didn't matter, he told himself,
he had a two whole months left and he had promised himself leaving Platform nine
and three-quarters that this summer he wasn't going to worry about anything.
XXX
July 31st 1993.
Number 4, Privet Drive was a much happier place without the oppressive presence
of Vernon Dursley. Petunia wasn't sure how it had happened, but overnight her
loving husband had turned into a monster. She could hazard a guess that it was the
fault of her freak nephew, and since he wasn't home either, she made no attempt to
hide her dislike of him, his parents, or hers for that matter.
"Why are you here?" She asked her two guests rudely.
Mr and Mrs Evans stood awkwardly on the front porch, shifting from side to side

while watching their daughter with concerned eyes. "Aren't you happy to see us,
dear?" Petunia's mother asked. Maura Evans looked like Lily had, red hair and green
eyes, though a darker shade than their daughter's and grandson's. She was pale but
beautiful, and by her side Anthony Evans stood proud and tall as he looked over at
his aging wife.
"Well, since I moved houses, didn't tell you my new address or phone number, never
sent Christmas cards, never spoke to you," Petunia said, before pausing to take a
deep breath. "Why are you here? Lily isn't here, so there's no reason for you to come
here."
"What?" Anthony asked. "We can't come visit our other daughter? Especially since it
took us so long to track you down!"
"How did you manage that?" Petunia asked glumly. No doubt the freaks had
something to do with this.
"An owl turned up at our house a few days ago. We had thought, for all these years,
that our daughter and grandson had been killed together," Maura gave a soft laugh,
"but he's alive! They said this was his address."
"They?"
"There were quite a few names on the bottom of the letter." Anthony pulled it from
his pocket and handed it to Petunia to read over. There was only one name; all of
the others were titles, and there was only one man Petunia knew of with as many
titles as this man had.
"Dumbledore!" She hissed, eyes narrowing. How dare he interfere in her life? Wasn't
it bad enough that he had dumped that child on her family in the first place?
"Yes," Maura agreed, "he seems to think Harry would benefit from knowing his
grandparents. Apparently he's fallen in with the wrong crowd at Hogwarts-" Before
she could finish speaking, Petunia yanked her forward, into the house.
"Sssh!" She hissed, "Don't let the neighbours hear you!" Petunia closed the door
behind herself, leading her parents into her home and pointing at the sofa. "I'll make
some tea, shall I?"
While she was in the kitchen, Anthony made his way around the house, glancing at
the photos that decorated the walls. There were still a couple of Dudley as a young
child, but none of him over the age of eight. The majority were of Vernon and a
pubescent Harry, grinning at one another, but there was one of Harry and a blond

boy, both only looking around eleven years old holding up matching letters.
"Hogwarts letter," Anthony whispered to his wife. She was standing at the other side
of the room, her fingers tracing a picture of a fat eight-year-old.
"My son, Dudley," Petunia told her mother. Maura frowned at the photo again, then
jumped, her hand pressed to her chest as someone came running down the stairs.
Dudley wasn't as big as he had been, because Evan had put him on a diet, but since
Evan was gone he had reverted to his usual way of eating as much as he liked when
he liked. He was carrying several empty sweet wrappers, and he stomped passed
his mother without speaking to dumped them in the rubbish bin.
"I'm hungry. When's dinner, mum?" Two months, Evan had only been gone two
months, and Petunia was surprised at how quickly Dudley forgot to be afraid of his
father. "Who are they?"
"These are your grandparents. Maura and Anthony Evans, this is my son Dudley
Dursley." She hadn't wanted anything to do with her own family once she had gotten
married. She didn't even tell Vernon she had family until she was pregnant and had
learnt Lily was having a child too. It had been nerve wrecking admitting that
someone in her family was a freak, but the knowledge that her parents had accepted
Lily regardless made Vernon agree with his wife's decision: they didn't want people
like that around their Dudders. But now Dumbledore had stuck his ore in, and here
her parents were.
And they wanted to see Harry. Not Dudley.
Petunia scowled as they turned away from her child, and asked after Lily's. "He is
spending the holidays at his friend's home." She pointed to the blonde boy in the
photo with the Hogwarts letter. "He doesn't have a telephone."
"Surely you can write to him? That owl followed us here, you know. We can use it!"
Anthony suggested, and then startled as his daughter threw him an ugly glance.
"Fine," she hissed. Petunia stormed into the kitchen, muttering under her breath the
whole way, even as she scrawled angrily on a piece of paper and rolled it up. She
stuck her hand out of the kitchen window and screamed as the owl swooped out of
nowhere to snatch the letter from her trembling fingers.
"Why are we bringing him back here?" Dudley whined, not liking the idea of his freak
cousin having free reign of his house even while his father wasn't home.

"The sooner he comes," Petunia told him softly, though her parents heard anyway,
"the sooner they leave."
XXX
August 6th 1993.
Lucius had dropped Harry to Privet Drive almost immediately after Petunia's letter
had arrived. That had been nearly a whole week ago, and the Evans' were still there,
along with their pet Alsatian who had been waiting in the car. Petunia had relegated
the dog into the back garden, not allowing it in the house except to go to the front
door and outside to do its business, unlike Marge's dogs who had always been let
wander freely and make a mess.
"Well Harry," Anthony said, as they all sat around the kitchen table waiting for
breakfast. Maura and Petunia were working at the stove and opening presses here
and there, searching for cups and plates and cutlery.
"Yes?" Harry asked quietly. In the week he had been there, he had decided he liked
his grandmother very much, but his grandfather rubbed him the wrong way. He
seemed like a good man, but there was a bitterness to him that reminded Harry of
Petunia. Harry wondered, briefly, if he had gone to live with them after his parents'
death, would Anthony have resented him too.
"Do you visit any of your fathers' family at all?" He asked, curious, wondering why
Harry had been kept away from them for so many years. Was it because he was a
Muggle, and those other Witches and Wizards thought they were better than him?
"My father's parents died before I was born. My father died. He didn't have any other
family. I mostly spend my holidays with my friend's family; the Malfoys have been
good to me."
"Oh, how terrible," Maura said, frowning, "well, you have us now!"
She placed a tray of tea things down on the table, and Harry reached forward to take
a cup for himself. Anthony did likewise, pouring slowly before glancing up at his
grandson. He mustn't have meant it as it sounded, Harry thought, or he hadn't really
considered how it would sound, but he gritted his teeth in anger as his grandfather
spoke again. "Such a shame, your father getting himself killed. Pity he didn't have
the common sense to keep you and Lily safe before getting himself blown up. Then
at least you would have had your mother too."
"I would have had my mother anyway, had she not be as brave, loyal and loving as

she was. She chose to die, to protect me, her sacrifice kept me alive, even though
Lord Voldemort offered to spare her life. She chose me and my father, she chose to
die for us. I appreciate her sacrifice, and I honour my father's as well, and I dislike "
despise " you talking about him like that!" As Harry spoke, his voice got colder and
colder, and his hands started to clench at his sides. Slowly, almost too slowly so that
Harry didn't actually notice what was happening until it was too late, Anthony Evans
began to inflate, like a giant human shaped balloon. Eventually, he was round,
swollen and turning blue, floating two feet above the ground. He looked like the girl
from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory had, as she swelled up and turned
into a blueberry.
Harry gulped, hurrying away from his grandfather to press himself against the
counter. He looked around the room, taking in the stunned and horrified expressions
of his family, and then turned to dart out of the back door.
The Alsatian lifted its head as Harry ran into the garden.
He could cast magic from out here, Harry realized. The Ministry hadn't been able to
detect magic outside of the house proper, or the front driveway, ever before, so he
could Obliviate everyone, if only he could get them to follow him out into the garden!
"Shit!" He hissed, kicking at a twig. How was he going to explain the accidental
magic? Surely, the Ministry already had a Howler on its way to him?
The dog barked, and Harry startled. He whirled around, glancing at the dog that was
digging happily at the ground. There was already a hole in the dirt and soil, and
Petunia would doubtlessly be horrified when she noticed it, but then Harry saw two
more holes, all in a line, and he nearly stopped breathing. That was where they had
buried Vernon. Vernon was buried under there, preserved and hairless, just waiting
for Evan to unearth him as their Lord came back to life, as Evan revealed himself as
Harry Potter's guardian. The dog was trying to dig Vernon up.
Harry's mind was in a whirl. He couldn't remember how deep the grave was, had
they actually bothered digging down six feet, or had they stopped at three? How long
would it take a dog that big to dig up six feet of soil anyway, Harry wondered. Did
Evan use magic, if he had used magic, maybe the grave was deeper than Harry
thought, and maybe the body was safe?
"HARRY!" Someone shouted from inside the house.
Panicking, Harry threw out his arm, wand held tightly in a clenched fist. The Knight
Bus jerked to a stop right in front of him, barely missing the dog, as its doors flew
open. "Hello again!" Stan Shunpike said with a grin.

"Diagon Alley," Harry told him hurriedly, stepping onto the bus as Maura ran outside,
reaching for him. The doors closed before she could touch him, but Harry caught a
glimpse of Anthony squeezing his way through the backdoor and floating off into the
sky above Surrey before the Bus, with a crack, shot off to its next stop.
XXX
Harry decided the best course of action was to ask Lucius for help.
The moment he arrived at The Leaky Cauldron, he paid Stan for the bus ride and
then ran inside, straight over to Tom the barkeeper. "Hey!" Harry gave a small wave,
biting his lip nervously. "You wouldn't have a spare sheet of parchment lying around?
Or some floo powder? I need someone to come pick me up!"
"Why, Harry Potter," Tom said, pressing his hand to his chest. "Gave me a start, you
did, come running in here like that, thought something must have been happening
outside!" But he walked around the bar without another word and led Harry towards
the only fireplace in the small pub. It was out in the middle of the room, and
everyone would probably hear what he was saying, but still, it wasn't like Harry had
actually thought to get the Knight Bus to Malfoy Manor: he had been a bit busy
panicking at the time after all. "Here, lad, just throw in a dash of this and call out the
destination."
Harry gratefully accepted the bag of floo powder. He dipped his hand in, scooping up
a small handful and then threw it into the empty fireplace. Green flames blazed to
life, and Harry stuck his head in quickly and shouted, "Malfoy Manor!"
Lucius answered his fire-call with a scowl. "What happened?" He asked, looking
down right annoyed. "The Ministry just owled! You've received a warning for using
underage magic, and have apparently blown up a Muggle? While I'm rather proud of
your new 'Death Eater' tendencies, I could have used a little warning, Harry. What
were you thinking?"
Harry gulped. "It wasn't my fault!" He shook his head at the look Lucius threw him.
Merlin, but he hated disappointing the man; it made something in his chest ache
whenever Lucius looked at him that way. "Dumbledore invited my grandparents to
visit, and my grandfather said some rather disparaging things about my father,
James, and I got angry. I didn't mean to do it! I didn't even have my wand on me!"
Lucius rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "If it was accidental magic then there's no
way you would have received a warning. I'll get a copy of that memory from you, and
I'll deal with it. I won't have something like this on your permanent record if you

haven't earned it." Harry softly offered his agreement. "Now, wait there. I've a
meeting to finish up, but I'll come and collect you shortly. I promised you an outing
for your birthday and since I haven't seen you since then this is the perfect
opportunity."
"Brilliant," Harry said, grinning widely. "See you soon."
He pulled his head out of the fireplace, waiting until the flames disappeared before
turning and walking back to the bar. "Hey Tom," he said, reaching into his pocket and
pulling out a galleon. "Can I get something to drink please?"
"Harry Potter?" A voice questioned from behind him. "Why! It is Harry Potter.
Goodness! It's an honour, Potter!" Harry turned around to stare at the portly man
who stood behind him, wringing a bowler hat between sweaty hands.
"Hello sir," Harry greeted, looking around nervously.
Tom placed a Butterbeer down in front of him, and Harry turned to pay, hoping that
the older Wizard would get the hint and go away. But he didn't. Instead he held his
hand out for Harry to shake. "Cornelius Fudge, I'm sure you've heard of me. I am
Minister for Magic after all!" He grabbed Harry's arm, waving his free hand to get
Tom's attention, then dragged Harry towards a free table. "Come now, sit, sit. I've
just popped out for a quick lunch, and fancy my surprise to see you here. Join me,"
he spoke swiftly, not giving Harry time to protest. "Now, what to order? Any
recommendations, Harry?"
Harry opened his mouth, closed it again, and shook his head. Fudge just chuckled
and reached for the menu.
When Lucius finally arrived to collect him, Harry was running his fingers through his
hair, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else but there. Fudge was eating messily,
dabbing at his mouth with a napkin after every forkful, and spilling copious amounts
of wine from his re-filling glass down his shirt. "Lucius!" Harry called loudly, spotting
the tall blonde man the moment he stepped out of the floo.
"Ah, Harry. Come along then." Lucius paused, and blinked as if he wasn't sure what
he was seeing. His head tilted to one side, eyeing Harry's dinner companion with
surprise. "Minister? Fancy seeing you here."
"Lucius!" Fudge said, sounding overjoyed. "Join us, please. Harry and I were just
having a wonderful discussion on the regulation of cauldron bottom thickness!"
"How... interesting," Lucius drawled. He smothered a chuckled as Harry met his

eyes, looking desperate and bored. "But we really must be going. Unfortunately, due
to Dumbledore's meddling I was unable to properly celebrate young Harry's birthday.
So, we'll be on our way now."
Harry stood, shaking Fudge's hand one more time, and followed Lucius out of the
pub. As they entered the Alley, Harry turned to Lucius and asked, "So, what are we
doing with the body buried in my back garden? Cause my grandparents own this
giant dog who keeps trying to dig it up."
Lucius turned to look at him, blinking slowly feeling blindsided by the question. "I...
see," he said at last, his face perfectly blank once more. "Come on, Harry, I haven't
all day."
Harry followed dutifully. He felt rather proud of himself for having managed to
surprise the elder, usually stoic, man.
XXX
August 16th 1993.
Harry slipped quietly out of the study, closing the door behind himself. Lucius lifted
his head, watching the child go. Once the door was closed, he looked back down at
the parchment spread across his desk.
Harry had been there, explaining in detail everything that had happen while he was
at Privet Drive. The boy had waited, seated in his lap in fact, as Lucius wrote the first
letter to the Department for Accidental Magic, tying it to the letter the Ministry had
sent Harry, and a vial containing the memory he had helped Harry extract. He had
kissed the boy softly then, and sent him on his way.
Now, Lucius considered the best way to approach the issue with his Lord. Evan was
the one who was more involved of course, being the one who took on the
appearance of the dead Muggle and had, in said Muggle's name, become the
guardian of both Theodore Nott and Harry Potter. He started with Evan first, detailing
the problem, his own suggestions for a solution, and finished by asking if Evan had
any of his own ideas to recommend. Lucius waited until he had finished the letter to
Lord Voldemort before he went to deliver them. His own owl had gone with the letter
to the Ministry, as Lucius had planned, and so when Harry had arrived earlier he had
been accompanied by Hedwig, who waited patiently, perched on the windowsill.
"Bring these to the Dark Lord and Evan Rosier respectively." Lucius tied the letters to
the bird's leg, and helped launch her out of the window. He watched her, until she
was but a speck of white in the sky, before leaving his study in search of the three

teenage boys currently inhabiting his Manor. As if one wasn't dangerous enough, he
thought, sighing, just as something crashed to the ground one corridor over and
broke.
XXX
August 31st 1993.
Harry wasn't sure how it had happened. They were in Diagon Alley, all of them, the
three Malfoys, himself and Theo, even though they had finished their Hogwarts
shopping two weeks previously. He thought it might have something to do with
Draco's pitiful attempts at guilting his parents to buy him the new Firebolt broom, but
since Lucius had already said no, Harry supposed that all of this must have been
Narcissa's fault.
Ron Weasley stood in front of them, backed by almost the entirety of his family (bar
the two eldest who didn't live in the country). The redhead was being his usual thick
self, for he had approached Harry loudly and attempted to hug him. Harry had
jumped back, bumping into Lucius' chest, who in turn had narrowed his eyes at the
Weasley boy. Ron had squeaked, dropping the cage he held and the rat within it
squeaked as well. Fred and George laughed, waving at Harry, and Harry, who was
looking mortified as the majority of the Alley's patrons were staring over at him, had
just spotted Hermione making her way towards him.
He was still determined to avoid her, to not be her friend, even though he had never
really considered her a friend, merely a beneficial acquaintance. But she looked so
happy to see him, and at his back Lucius had tensed and Narcissa was wrinkling her
nose as if there was an unpleasant smell in the air, and Harry just sighed tiredly.
How had this happened, he wondered. How had he ended up in Diagon Alley
surrounded by people he wanted to keep happy and two of the three people he
wanted to avoid pestering him. Fortunately, he thought with relief, Ginny Weasley
was keeping to herself.
"Oh Harry!" Hermione said, appearing to completely forget that Harry had slighted
her at Platform nine and three-quarters last May. "You must be so excited! I know I
would be. Though it's absolutely dreadful that he wasn't given a trial in the first place.
Imagine, if he's proved innocent. What an embarrassment to the Ministry that'll be!"
She gave a soft chuckled, then frown as Harry only stared at her in confusion. "Oh
you don't know?" She said, pointing out the rather obvious. From within her robes
she pulled out a folded up newspaper and she offered it to Harry with a smile.
Harry took it, unfolding it crease-by-crease until it was opened fully in front of him. A

picture of a man in his early twenties grinned up at him. His dark hair was flying
around his face, and his teeth were bared in a snarl, and even as he held up the
placard with his name and prisoner number on it, the man was darting forward and
back, attempting to attack the photographer and then being restrained, over and
over again, as the picture kept looping.
"Sirius Black" the sign read.
"Muggle Killer Sirius Black appeals his sentence!" The headline read, letters
darkening and lightening one at a time, as if inviting his eyes to continue along the
line, to follow the magic to complete the sentence. Harry continued to read, pausing
at the part where the author of the article addressed 'Sirius Black' as 'Harry Potter's
godfather', before he continued reading. He supposed that must have been why
Hermione thought Harry would be excited. Harry turned to look up at Lucius,
frowning because the blonde man's name had been mentioned in the article too.
Apparently, Lucius had recommended Sirius his personal lawyer and had even been
the one to file the notice of appeal in the Ministry on Sirius' behalf.
Harry's eyes narrowed.
He didn't need a godfather, though it would be wonderful if the man was freed
especially considering the article was implying that he had been convicted without a
trial. He had his father, and a godfather would be nice, Harry decided, but he
doubted Sirius would exactly get on with Evan Rosier, Death Eater extraordinaire.
Harry didn't want him out. But someone must have, and since Lucius had been
involved, Harry could only assume it was the blonde man's doing. This meant that
somehow Lord Voldemort was involved.
But why did Lord Voldemort want Sirius Black free from Azkaban?
XXX
Please review? If you love me? Keep an eye out for my new story Through The
Looking Glass; it should surface sometime after I finished New Divide and The
Abyss.
P.S. I hate bleeding hearts, and I hate when they set essays, because none of them
know how to ask questions in proper English, sigh. Uni, Uni, Uni, why will you not
end?

Chapter 32
Well here is a new chapter. I actually read over Butterfly over the last few days, and
there are a few things that haven't come up in a while, but they will eventually. I'm on
hiatus after this chapter until mid-May, because I have one more essay to do for uni
and I haven't started it yet (since I'm the procrastination queen) but I really need to
do it. Afterwards, I'll get around to Through the Looking Glass and there are
several one shots I want to do as well.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed.
Words: 4,492
Chapter 32
September 1st 1993. Hogwarts Express.
Harry passed Severus Snape without a glance.
The Potions Professor was half-hidden under one of the train station's shadowy
alcoves, glaring at anyone who dared walk too close to him. With Sirius Black's
impending trial, Dumbledore had decided to play it extra safe and had ordered a
handful of Hogwarts staff to ride the train back to the Castle along with the students.
Snape wasn't exactly happy with this news, but since he did live in the Muggle world
anyway it wasn't too much of a hardship. What bothered him was that he was being
ordered to do this for Potter's sake. It was all about Potter. Dumbledore didn't seem
concerned that any of the other students could be in danger if Black were to be
released, only Potter. Snape snorted at the thought, watching as Lucius Malfoy
guided three teenage boys forward, with a hand on Harry's back. Harry was
spending time at Malfoy Manor, and yet Dumbledore was worried about a man
whose trial wasn't scheduled till sometime in the New Year, when he should be
worried about the Death Eater who had his hands all over the Boy-Who-Lived.
The moment Harry stepped onto the Express, Snape slipped out of the shadows,
and easily glided his way passed the bumbling, shoving crowd of adults, to make his
way onto the train.
Somewhere near the front of that train was Remus Lupin, the new Defence
Professor. Snape made his way to the very end of the train, where there were some
empty compartments left. Flitwick and Babbling might be content to share their
compartment with the students, but Severus was determined to avoid them all until
his first Potions class of the year, and if hopefully everyone happened to come down

with the flu, then longer.

XXX
The train was just about to cross the border between England and Scotland when it
rumbled to an unexpected stop. There was no warning, other than the sudden
unnatural chill that crawled across the walls of the train and over each of the
occupants. Ice coated the windows, and breath fogged the air, and no one dared
speak in the still silence.
Harry looked at Draco. Draco looked at Theo. The man who had been asleep until
the train had stopped, pulled back his hood, and looked slowly around the
compartment at each of the three thirteen-year-old boys.
"Well, this doesn't look good," the elder Wizard said softly. His wand was in his hand,
and Harry copied his example and withdrew his own. Draco and Theo followed suit.
The door to their compartment began to slide open, slowly, so very slowly. It had the
three teenagers tensing, fingers clenching tighter around their wands, but the
Professor suddenly jumped to his feet, pushing them back and out of the way. He
met the Dementor face-to-cowl as it slid into the compartment with its hood up.
"Re-musssss Lu-pin," it wheezed, sounding like an old man who had great difficulty
breathing. It held out its hand or its claw actually because the fingers had no flesh on
them: they were merely bones, poking out of the end of its tattered sleeve. In its
hand was a rolled up piece of parchment, and with great hesitancy Remus reached
out to grab hold of it. He unrolled it in silence, his wand still pointed at the Dementor
while keeping one eye on it and one on the parchment.
"What is it?" Harry asked. He'd never seen a Dementor before, and he had certainly
never been told about them going around delivering notes either.
"A summons," Draco answered, obviously having come across this before. "Father
received one years ago, whenever the Ministry thought they had caught a Death
Eater. They'd summon anyone who was pardoned and have them give evidence
against the accused. Dementors guard the Wizarding prison, Azkaban, and they act
like wardens or..." He trailed off with a frown, unsure what the Muggle word he
needed was.
"Bailiffs," Remus added in a soft voice. He lowered his wand, taking two steps back
from the Dementor who still hovered in the doorway.
"What does it say?" Harry asked. He walked closer, staring intently at the creature

just inside of their compartment door. His friends had backed up, leaning almost
against the frozen window, and Harry could understand why they didn't want to get
close. He had read that many people had negative reactions to the Dementors,
flashbacks, cold sweats, tremors, fits, mild bouts of depression, even faint nausea.
And Theodore definitely looked nauseous.
But Harry wasn't feeling any of this. There was a strange ringing in his ears, almost
like the echo of a scream, but he tried to ignore it. Aside from that, he didn't think he
was experiencing any negative reactions, instead there was a humming in his veins,
and the closer he got to the Dementor the less his skin itched. It was strange, to be
so excited by the presence of one of those creatures, but Harry reasoned, it was
perhaps the Horcrux within him, reacting to the presence of something almost as
equally dark as itself? After all, Lord Voldemort had been renowned for his famed
friendly relations with the Dementors. That might have been as a result of the
amount of Dark magic he had used, or the lack of soul he had left, but whatever it
was, it seemed to have rubbed off on Harry, because he reached out without thinking
to run his fingers over the claw that remained outstretched. A jolt went through him,
like being struck by lightning, and Harry let out a soft, barely noticeable moan.
Except Remus was a Werewolf and he was standing right beside Harry, so he heard
and he gave the boy a curious, concerned glance before tugging the child
backwards.
"Ha-rrr-eh Pott-er," a second Dementor wheezed, appearing behind the first. He held
out another roll of parchment, and Harry took it without another second being
wasted. He unrolled it, eyes flickering over the ink, eager and curious and excited.
The Dementors flocked around him, skeletal fingers reaching out to brush his hair or
his cheek, until Lupin shot a Patronus at them, the silver wolf chasing them away.
One more Dementor, who sought his witness at the very other end of the train, came
gliding towards his brethren. They departed together, and the train began to move
once more.
Harry sat in silence, the letter still open on his lap.
"They want me to give evidence at Sirius Black's trial." He said softly, eyebrows
furrowed together in thought. "I didn't know Sirius Black." Remus opened his mouth,
and then closed it again. "How am I meant to testify to anything? I was a baby when
he went to prison!" He turned to look at the older man, obviously the new Professor
since he was on the train to Hogwarts. "Professor," Harry said, "did you know Sirius
Black?"
"I did," the man said after a short silence. He thought for a moment again, then said,

"he and I were very good friends with your father."

Harry doubted they were friends with Evan.
If they were friends with James then they'd likely not approve of his current friends or
his new father, Harry knew. And so he said nothing to Remus' comment, only
shrugged and turned his face away so he could stare out of the window at nothing in
particular. The letter was still open on his lap, and every once in a while Harry looked
down at it, eyes running of the words "Sirius Black, godfather of Harry Potter", before
looking away with a frown.
If the man was anything like the other Gryffindors Harry knew, there was no point
getting attached to the idea of a Godfather. He'd be better off without.
XXX
September 2nd 1993. Hogwarts.
When the list of electives had gone around, Harry had glanced over the list three
times, considering each option carefully before finally coming to a decision. He
would definitely be taking Ancient Runes, which was taught by Professor Bathsheda
Babbling.
He wasn't a fan of maths, and so Harry didn't really want to take Arithmancy, despite
how important he knew it would be for spell weaving. But he wouldn't be able to
learn that until he was of age anyway, considering all of the rules the Ministry had in
place about creating your own spells, and Harry figured he could always get a tutor
later in his Hogwarts years if he really needed to learn Arithmancy.
The other choices were Divination with Professor Trelawney or Care of Magical
Creatures with Hagrid. Hagrid was still just as happy to see Harry as he ever was.
They didn't get on very well at first, but in the middle of first year when Hagrid had
gotten drunk and set his hut on fire with himself unconscious inside it, Harry had
been the one to put out the flames and effectively save the half-giant's life. Hagrid
was under the impression that he owed Harry one, and taking Hagrid's class this
year would basically mean doing very little work for a lot of House points. But he sort
of, really, kind of, maybe wanted to take Divination too.
The Dark Lord had targeted his family for some reason. And while Harry didn't really
know why, Evan had once mentioned it had something to do with a Prophecy.
Ultimately, that meant that the Dark Lord believed in Divination. True diviners existed
of course, but Harry had heard that Trelawney wasn't one of them, merely a fraud.

Yet, he was torn between the two electives regardless. And so, having come to an
alternative conclusion and running it by his Head of House, Harry was now in
possession of a Ministry-loaned time-turner. He would be taking all three electives,
and the time-turner was only to be used in emergencies, in case Harry found he
couldn't keep up with his school work and his Quidditch practice (since of course he
couldn't quit because Roger Davis was still blackmailing him to keep him on the
team, and honestly, after two years, Harry was starting to rather enjoy beating the
other teams). Harry had decided he'd use the time-turner to get extra sleep, because
no one would much like him if he were tired and cranky all of the time, and maybe
he'd borrow it to get his meals and then study through his actual meal time? And
what about meeting with Evan? He could use it then too, so then no one would
notice he was gone, and they could spend as long as they liked together.
Except, then, of course, Flitwick had informed him that he would be holding on to the
time-turner unless Harry specifically asked for it for a specific reason. This meant he
could cross using it to see Evan off of the list. None of his classes conflicted, unlike
Hermione's, who was apparently taking all of the electives at once and actually
needed her time-turner: Flitwick had only procured Harry's just in case.
So now Harry had Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Care of Magical Creatures,
Ancient Runes, Herbology, History of Magic and Divination this year. Along with
Quidditch. Harry sighed deeply, gathering his things together, and making his way to
his first class.
Care of Magical creatures was actually much more amusing than Harry had ever
imagined it could be. This was Hagrid's first year teaching, and so far he seemed to
know what he was talking about but he had absolutely no control over his class. And
he didn't seem to understand the danger ratings the Ministry had placed on magical
creatures, because he started their very first lesson with a Hippogriff. It was rated
"XXX", and while not the worst of the creatures listed in the textbook (that had
coincidentally tried to eat Harry when he had bought it), Hippogriffs weren't the
safest either.
"Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last
thing yeh do." Hagrid had said, and while all of the Ravenclaws had listened, the
Gryffindors started shoving each other and laughing, obviously amused by the sight
of the horse/bird hybrid creature.
"I bet it isn't so dangerous," Ron said, nudging one of his friends.
"Prove it!" Dean Thomas snickered, shoving Ron towards the creature.

Chuckling, Ron just nodded his head. He ignored the wide-eyed stares of the rest of
the class, he ignored the way Hagrid came towards him with his arms out,
whispering "bow to him, Ron, bow to him", and he ignored the way Buckbeak
snorted and stomped its hoof at him.
Eventually, Ron was standing right before the Hippogriff, and Buckbeak waited a
moment, waited to see if Ron would bow. When he didn't, the creature reared back,
kicking out with his front legs, and they hit Ron right on the sternum, sending him
sprawling backwards.1 He landed in a heap on the ground, legs curled up against
his chest and his breath came in strained pants as if there were nothing more difficult
in the world than breathing in and out, in and out. There were tears on his pale face,
and he was biting down hard on his bottom lip; a trickle of blood leaking from the
corner of his mouth.
Hagrid ran towards him, glancing warily at Buckbeak, but the Hippogriff was content
to ignore them both now. The Professor tried to scoop Ron into his large arms, but
the teenager screamed so shrilly that the man actually stumbled backwards. Hagrid
dropped Ron and fell, landing awkwardly on his arse.
Harry rolled his eyes, taking three steps forward before sweeping forward into a low
bow. He waited until Buckbeak lowered itself a fraction, just enough for them to be
eye-level had Harry been standing straight, and then Harry stood. His wand was out,
pointed at Ron, and he said, "Stupefy. Levicorpus".
Ron rose into the air, his body unnaturally still and straight. Harry glanced sideways
at the Professor, who didn't own a wand (well not legally anyway) and who couldn't
levitate the injured boy to the hospital wing. "May I be excused?" He asked his voice
soft and calm, the opposite of the hysterical murmuring the rest of the class were
participating in.
"Yeah, yeah," Hagrid muttered, blinking owlishly, looking as if he hadn't quite
comprehended what had just happened. He scratched his head. "Wait, I'll come with
yer."
"No," Harry said softly, "just don't continue the lesson without me. I'll be right back."
He turned away then, his wand still held out in front of him, and he flicked it lightly.
As he did, Ron started to float forward. As Harry walked, he'd flick his wand lightly
every now and then, propelling Ron in front of him. Hagrid and the rest of the class
watched him go, their mouths wide. Some called after him, some offered to go with
him, but Harry just ignored them all.
Hermione was the only one who kept quiet, but she stared after him with narrowed,

curious eyes. He was ignoring her again it seemed, she thought sadly. Then she
shook her head, pushing the thought away. There would be time to corner Harry
Potter later, but for now, she had a Care of Magical Creatures class to attend.
XXX
September 14th 1993. Hogwarts.
It was her birthday, but once again her parents had celebrated with her at the end of
August. They still hadn't gotten the hang of using owl post, so Hermione had started
off the day with no cards and no gifts. Lavender Brown had whispered "happy
birthday" at her over the pancakes at breakfast but no one else appeared to have
realized what day it was.
Even Nearly-Headless Nick seemed to have forgotten, and he had been the one in
first and second year encouraging her to throw a party to mark the day.
With a sigh, Hermione pushed open the doors of the library and made her way
inside. She gathered a few books from various shelves, all of which she had started
reading but had never finished, and she knew each shelving number by heart and
could probably find them all with her eyes closed. It was a little pathetic, but it wasn't
like Hermione had any other way to spend her time. She didn't really have friends.
Ginny spoke to her sometimes still, but after last year Hermione wasn't really sure if
she wanted to be friends with a girl like that. Ginny had befriended her and used her
in order to make the Polyjuice Potion, to sneak into the Ravenclaw Tower in disguise
and steal a diary from Harry.
According to Ron, who was the biggest loud mouth Hermione had ever met and who
had been more than willing to tell her about everything when they met at Diagon
Alley that summer, Ginny had been the one to open the Chamber. She was being
forced by some house elf, or so Dumbledore had told the Weasley parents, and this
house elf supposedly worked for one of Voldemort's Death Eaters. Fluturim, the
house elf that had actually belonged to Gilderoy Lockhart, who had actually been
possessed by Voldemort, had been executed at the Ministry that summer, after being
declared a 'dangerous creature'. Ginny appeared sweet and innocent, quiet and shy
for the entire time Hermione had spent with her that summer, but since they had
arrived back at Hogwarts Ginny barely spared her a glance unless it was to glare
angrily. Apparently, Ginny blamed Hermione for last year's events. As she had told
Hermione the week before, as her friend Hermione should have just taken the diary
from Harry so Ginny wouldn't have had to.
Ginny didn't seem to be good friend material, in Hermione's opinion.

Then there was Harry. Harry was a nice boy, but it was those friends of his, Malfoy
especially that meant he didn't want to spend time with Hermione. She was the
furthest thing from stupid, and she had noticed the way Draco would avoid Harry if
he was near Hermione. Theodore wasn't as bad, but he would rather stick with his
housemate than side with a Gryffindor Mudblood. Maybe after Hogwarts, if she kept
persisting, maybe then Harry could be her friend?
She shook her head, laughing slightly. Was she really so desperate for a friend that
she would wait five more years to have Harry? It wasn't as if she had many friends in
the Muggle world either. And the only person who ever really spoke to her was Ron,
because he thought she would put in a good word on him to Harry, and Lavender
who wanted help with her homework, and this strange blonde Ravenclaw girl who
was in the library sometimes, but conversations with her were confusing and
awkward and Hermione would rather do without.
Arms full with textbooks, Hermione made her way to one of the tables hidden at the
back of the library. It was always quieter there, and less people ever came looking at
the shelves in that direction so she was generally left to study in peace.
Except Harry was sitting at the table she wanted to use. Biting her lip, unsure
whether to stay or go, Hermione stood there awkwardly. She tried to tuck a lock of
hair behind her ears, juggling to hold the books with one hand, and nearly ended up
dropping them all. One fell, but before it could hit the floor, Harry whispered, "Accio"
and the book landed gently on the table. "Sit down, Hermione," he said without
looking up at her.
"How did you know it was me?"
"Anyone else would have immediately started on about how much of an honor it was
to see me." Then he snorted, "actually anyone else would be sitting over there at the
group work desks having a good laugh at someone else's misfortune." Hermione
looked behind her, and sure enough four Hufflepuffs were pointing and laughing at a
lone Slytherin first year who wasn't quite tall enough to reach the book he wanted.
"That's cruel!" She hissed, eyes narrowing. She was about to walk over to help him,
when an older Slytherin appeared, glaring at the Hufflepuffs and handing down the
book to the eleven-year-old.
"Slytherins look after their own. He'd have only been suspicious if you had handed
him the book." Harry said, watching as Hermione sat down.
"What are you reading?" She asked. There was so much she wanted to talk to him

about, so much she wanted to say and ask, but she wasn't sure how to bring it up.
There was the thing that had happened last year with the Chamber of Secrets, the
things she knew about it, Hermione wondered if anyone had even bothered to tell
Harry. Then there was his ability to speak Parseltongue. She knew what Dumbledore
had told the Weasleys when they had asked, but Hermione had been doing her own
research, because that was the kind of person she was and she doubted that Harry
knew what she knew. And of course Sirius Black's upcoming trial. But again, she
wasn't sure how to bring it up.
Fortunately for her, Harry answered her honestly, touching on one of the subjects
she had wondered about.
"Adoption laws." He answered with a shrug. "I'm just wondering what will happen if
Sirius Black gets out of Azkaban. I was looking at other laws earlier, about why I'd be
asked to give evidence. Apparently as his Godson and Heir I get to be a character
witness, but since I don't exactly know him, I'm supposedly only there for moral
support and to say if I'd like to live with him one day. Lupin and Snape are going as
real character witnesses though, because they went to school with him."
"And what have you found?" She asked, genuinely curious.
"So far, if he wanted I could live with him, regardless of what anyone else wanted
once he was cleared. He's my legal guardian since my parents died, and as his legal
Heir I have the right to inherit everything he owns even if I choose not to live with
him. Until I turn 17 he has full control over all of my money and estates, because he
acts as the defacto Head of my House since I'm underage. But after I turn
seventeen, until I turn twenty-one, I get to run the estate and Sirius keeps control
over the money. I still get to use my trust vault, and apparently he had to pay me a
salary or spending money or something, but other than that, I have absolutely
nothing in my name. It kind of sounds shite to be honest, but I already knew that.
One of Draco's tutors told me that when we were... spending the summer together."
Harry was going to say 'kids' but then he remembered that everyone thought Draco
and he had only met at age eleven, when in fact they had been a lot younger.
"What bothers me is that as 'family' Sirius could demand that I sit in on every
meeting he has with the Ministry, with the Wizengamot, or with his lawyer. Even if
other family members choose to speak to him, he can call me there to act as an
mediator. I could be missing classes, at any time, just because he feels like it. I don't
even know the man! And it's terrible that he's been locked up for all these years for
something he didn't do, but, well, this is my education we're talking about! I'm not
about to throw it away on a stranger, you know?" He took a deep breath. Harry
rubbed at his eyes, frowning. He wasn't that bothered about missing classes really,

since he was sure Flitwick would count court meetings as a specific reason for using
the time-turner. But mostly he was just afraid of what Sirius would think of him if he
happened to run into Lucius at the same time. Lucius was married to Sirius' cousin
and what if Narcissa was there and recognized him? Would Sirius hate him for being
friends with Death Eaters?
What really annoyed him, more than the fear that his godfather might hate him, was
the fact that he even cared. Because he shouldn't! He had Evan. He had Lucius and
Draco and Theo. He didn't need or want Sirius Black. Whatever Voldemort was
playing at, getting Sirius released, Harry didn't appreciate the game.
"Oh Harry," Hermione whispered, looking rather upset. "But he wasn't innocent!
Don't you know what he did? Ron said his parents said this was some sort of Death
Eater conspiracy. After the Death Eater's house elf attacked Ginny last year, and
considering, well, apparently they had actually been after you, Headmaster
Dumbledore believes they're trying to release Black to get custody of you. They want
to hurt you!"
"Dumbledore said?" Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes. If Harry didn't know better, he'd
guess this was Dumbledore's doing, releasing Sirius as another 'control Harry test' to
see what he'd do, how he'd react. But Lucius was involved. And several other people
had voted to give Sirius a trial that Harry knew to be Death Eaters, so it definitely
had nothing to do with Dumbledore.
"Headmaster Dumbledore," Hermione corrected sounding a little annoyed by his
disrespect. "Sirius Black was the man who told You-Know-Who where you and your
parents were hiding. When he escaped he killed thirteen Muggle bystanders, Harry.
Thirteen, with one spell! Then he escaped again. He was finally arrested, and he just
kept laughing and shouting, like a mad-man. He's crazy, and he's after you! You
need to be careful. If he calls you, never be alone with him, Harry. Promise me!
Promise you'll be careful around him."
"He isn't a Death Eater, Hermione." Harry was sure, because Evan had said as
much even before his Hogwarts letter had first arrived, back when Lucius was
digging around the Ministry for Harry's records so Evan Rosier could adopt him in
the Muggle world.
"Why else would Death Eaters be trying to rescue him then?" She placed her hands
on her hips and frowned.
Harry frowned back, because honestly, why else would they be helping him? Maybe
he had been Voldemort's man all along and no one had noticed? Maybe Sirius really

was out to get Harry, but then, why would Lucius help him get to Harry, unless
Voldemort had ordered his death? But no, no, Harry told himself, Voldemort didn't
want him dead. Tom had said Voldemort wanted to own him, to have him as his
servant, so no he couldn't be trying to get Harry killed. He clenched his fists under
the table, gritted his teeth together, and promised to write to Evan the moment
Hermione left him alone.
He really wanted to know what was going on.
XXX
1 " This has actually happened to me. It was a real horse, obviously and not a
Hippogriff, but fuck it hurt. I couldn't breathe properly for about twenty minutes, and
had a bruise on my chest the shape of its hoof, but apart from that I was very lucky.
Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.
Also, don't you hate it when you find an absolutely amazing story, read the whole
gigantic thing in a week, move onto the sequel, and then wait for it to be updated,
only for the author to update saying the story is discontinued. Sobbing!

Chapter 33
Hey all. I'm back now :) I have finished The Abyss and added two chapters, so far,
of a new story called The Fickle Hand of Fate. Though, Through the Looking
Glass is still to come, along with several other one shots.
This was the hardest chapter ever to write, ever! I was afraid of giving away too
much, or not saying enough during Evan's scene, and I'm in agony right now (and
the hospital still won't move my appointment forward), so if it's sketchy then it's
cause I can't concentrate but I won't have another chance to update this until next
weekend, probably.
Words: 3,199
Chapter 33
October 15th 1993. Forbidden Forest.
Evan watched them. The Ravenclaw Quidditch team flew laps around the pitch, and
Harry hovered in the middle of them all, waiting quietly on his broom as his eyes
darted around, searching for the golden snitch. The Death Eater stayed hidden
behind the trees that lined the entrance of the forbidden forest. His wings fluttered
lightly in the breeze, and his antennae twitched whenever a leaf fell or another insect
drew too close.
As the Quidditch practice ended, the butterfly spread his wings and flew deeper into
the forest.
Harry Potter waited until the rest of his team mates were out of sight, and then he remounted his broom and flew towards the forest. He dismounted once the castle was
out of sight, walking unsteadily across uneven ground with his Nimbus 2001 clutched
in his left hand. His right hand squeezed around his wand as he cast a Lumos.
"Hello," Evan whispered, once he had changed from butterfly to man.
"Hello," Harry whispered back. "I have missed you."
Evan gave a slow nod, a soft smile on his lips, before he reached forward to drag his
son into a tight hug. "I have missed you too, Caen."
"How's it going?" Harry shifted, pulling out of Evan's hold and lowering himself down
onto the stump of a tree. This was their usual meeting place, though they hadn't
seen each other in some time, it still felt as comfortable as always, and Harry easily

fell into the familiarity of their meetings. Evan moved so he was leaning back against
a tree trunk and he watched Harry curiously, head tilted to one side. The teenager
had his head thrown back, the rays of the moon seeping through the canopy of trees
to fall on his face, reflecting back off of his glasses. "With the Dark Lord, I mean?"
"It is going well. We're recruiting at some times and at other times we are searching
for a way to return our Lord to full strength. We have a plan, but it must be modified
and perfected before we'd even attempt to try it. Lord Voldemort is nothing if not a
perfectionist," Evan added with a snort of amusement.
"That's good." Harry gave a wry smile. "But what's the story with Sirius Black?"
"Ah," Evan said, mouth falling open and then closing again as he thought of what to
say. He could tell the truth, he supposed, though the Dark Lord had not given him
permission too. Or he could lie to his child who would probably know he was lying.
Or he could give a half-truth, a mix of both of his other options and keep everyone
happy. Or he could say nothing. "You'll find out in time, Caen. Now isn't the time."
"Don't give me that bullshit!" Harry hissed. He stood from where he had been sitting,
brushing the back of his trousers off angrily. He leant over Evan, sneering at his
father's amused face. "This concerns me! Black is after me! Do you know how badly
this is affecting my school work? What if my grade average drops because of this?
You'll have no one to blame but yourself or you Lord!"
Evan's hand shot out, his fingers gripping tightly to Harry's chin. "Don't use that tone
with me, boy." Harry lowered his eyes, apologizing silently. Evan didn't usually
punish him, only if Harry really, really deserved it. And for Evan to lose his temper
usually meant that the man was stressed or injured or Harry had done something
very disrespectful. After Harry had turned his face away, Evan let go of him. His
fingers gently caressed over one cheek, before Evan removed his hand completely
and sighed. "Arrangements for the trial are on-going. I don't really know much about
them; that is Lucius' foray, so perhaps you should nag him? However, I do know that
the Wizengamot has agreed to give Black parole until the actual trial date, which
means he will be free until then. He is allowed to contact you, but don't worry he
won't hurt you, Harry, because I'm sure you've been hearing differently, hmm?"
Harry rolled his eyes. He wasn't sure if Evan could be believed, though he knew
Evan believed what he was saying. Hermione had said that Black was a murderer
and a Death Eater who had betrayed his parents and himself. Evan had insisted
Black wasn't a Death Eater, but Death Eaters were helping him escape from
Azkaban, and so Harry wasn't sure what to think. Maybe he had been a Death Eater,
but Voldemort hadn't told anyone, and instead kept him as some sort of secret-

agent-spy? Harry rolled his eyes: speculating would do nothing but give him a
headache, he told himself. It would be best to ask Lucius or perhaps the Dark Lord if
they ran into each other again, or maybe ask the man himself? He was bound to call
for him eventually; after all, Harry had already been summoned as a character
witness for the trial so he'd need to actually meet Sirius first. Or he hoped he would,
because otherwise he wouldn't make much of a witness, unable to comment on the
character of a man he's never met.
Though, perhaps this was all for show and Sirius was never going to be freed? They
had chosen one friend, one enemy (for Snape didn't try and mask his hatred of
Sirius Black) and one child who couldn't be called either, though he was family.
Alternatively, the Wizengamot could finally be doing things fairly, aiming for a neutral
balance of opinions on which the jury could rest their final decision. Having ten
Death Eaters vouch for Sirius wouldn't look so well, unlike having three people, each
with differing opinions, arguing for the man in their own way. It was much more
realistic, and lawful, and it was how the Muggles did it too, Harry noted.
"Just give it a chance, child," Evan breathed into his ear, pulling the boy into another
hug. "Our Lord knows what he's doing. And he's doing it for you."
"Is he a Death Eater?" Harry asked, trying his luck once more. He brushed off the
comment about Voldemort, because it was too much like the things Tom Riddle had
used to say to him, to imply about him and Voldemort, even though they were the
furthest words from the truth imaginable. They still made him feel strangely; his
stomach rolled and his muscles tensed and his heart speed up. Flattered, curious,
cautious, amused, aroused? He felt the others certainly, at the thought that the Dark
Lord could feel something for him, but he was only aroused by Lucius. So, he didn't
care for Voldemort then? But he certainly was pleased when he thought about those
kind of comments, and they elicited a feeling of safety deep within his chest,
because surely Voldemort wouldn't kill his heir whom he loved, would he?
At least he wouldn't, yet, not until the Lord himself had sorted through his feelings.
This meant that Harry still had time to decide, to determine what side he was really
on. He was Dark, no doubt, but if this was all an elaborate ploy to kill Harry or
capture and punish him somehow, he'd need to have his own contingency plan in
place. He'd need someone to turn to, someone to run to, and as he glanced at Evan
he knew Evan couldn't be that person. But Sirius, could Sirius be his escape?
Only if he isn't a Death Eater, Harry thought. He wouldn't have to stay with the man,
just long enough to escape Voldemort, and then he'd run to the farthest corner of the
world and hide because he knew he wouldn't be able to fight against his family and
friends and kill any of them. But he wouldn't lie back and be killed either.

"Is Black a Death Eater?" Harry asked again.

"Innocent until proven guilty, Caen," Was all Evan would say in response.
XXX
October 31st 1993.
Remus Lupin had wanted to talk to him. He had been quite adamant and even
Harry's insistence that he carry out the Samhain rituals didn't deter the werewolf. So,
Harry found himself sitting cross-legged in the Defence Against the Dark Arts
classroom, with a small bonfire burning in front of him. It was surrounded by large
stones, to keep it from spreading, and Harry calmly placed the small bones he had
collected earlier that evening onto the fire, one by one. They had belonged to
Hagrid's chicken before Harry had killed them; skinning and gutting them swiftly, and
now their meat lay cooked on the silver dish resting on the chair beside the fire. The
seat was left empty for any dead family member who wished to visit, the food placed
there so they would not be offended at being excluded.
Ghosts hovered around the edges of the class room, and Remus paced back and
forth, his eyes wide as Harry began to pray, his chant mixing with his magic, full of
emotion and power and intensity. It made it sound as if he were singing, rather than
merely praying, and Harry lost himself to the magic before pulling a sheet of
parchment from his pocket and dropping it into the fire as well. He had written all of
his weaknesses and fears onto the parchment, and he watched it burn to ashes with
a smile on his face. It was good luck for the following year, because of course the
Celtic calendar began in November not in January, so this night marked the end of
the year.
This night was the date his parents had died twelve years ago.
Hedwig hooted lowly, and Harry looked up at her and away from the fire. There was
a small lead box on the floor beside him, and he reached into the fire to pull free an
ember. He hissed as his skin burned. Harry dropped the ember into the box and tied
it to Hedwig's leg.
"You know where to go, girl." And she fluttered her wings and took flight from the
classroom window. There was a long way to go until she reached Albania, but Evan
was his only family as far as Harry was concerned and so the flight would be worth it
all in the end.
"You've burnt your hand," Remus whispered. He waved his wand and the blisters
and reddened skin on Harry's fingers and palm disappeared. "You could have used

an Accio, you know."

"That's not how the ritual works. You never get anything for nothing. My suffering is
the sacrifice for a year's worth of good luck for my family. I follow the old ways,
Professor, and I follow them correctly unlike many other pretenders." Harry stood as
he spoke and made his way to the window. Out in the courtyard several children ran
around dressed in cloaks and hats and masks, and while trick-or-treating had existed
back in the Pagan days before Christianity, it was only used to harvest food from
other families so that it could be offered to the gods. No one ever gave out sweets
and no one ever kept anything for themselves. Harry sneered at them, and then at
Dumbledore who had appeared in the middle of the courtyard with a basket full of
candy.
"Fool," Harry muttered, unbelieving that a teacher could be stupid enough to give
children candy, and so much of it too.
"I knew your family." Remus said after a moment. "Your parents and I were very
close as children, and then as adults too. We went to Hogwarts together, we told
each other everything. I was your honorary godfather, you know. Sirius was your
godfather."
"Why not you?" Harry asked curiously.
Remus gave a sad smile and a shrug. He couldn't tell Harry the truth, not until he
knew Harry's opinions on Dark creatures and they hadn't gotten that far into their
lessons yet. "No reason I guess, but James did know Sirius longer."
"And look how well that worked out for him."
Remus glanced at Harry, his eyes wide. He must have been mistaken, he thought;
Harry Potter would never have spoken so coldly about his family, would he?
"Look, I know you were their friend, and that you cared about them. But to me they're
only vague ideas. I've never known them and I never will. You wanted to speak to
me, and honestly all I want to know is whether you believe Sirius to be a Death Eater
or not? I have to see him soon, and different people have a different opinion on him,
and I would sincerely like to form an opinion of my own. But the only information I
can find has been sanctioned by the Ministry or the media and honestly it is all very
biased."
"Yes," Remus said at last. "For a time I believed he was a traitor. But-" Remus went
to continue speaking, but Harry raised his hand just as an alarm started blaring.

"It's part of the ritual," Harry told him softly. "One minute of silence at midnight."
Remus bowed his head, glancing at Harry through his fringe. The boy had his head
ducked, and his eyes closed, and he looked so solemn and serious that it made
Remus frown. How had Harry learnt all of this anyway? Didn't he live with Muggles?
The silence was broken a minute later, but Remus didn't get the chance to finish
speaking. More alarms began to blare and outside in the courtyard children started
screaming.
"The proximity wards!" Remus gasped. Harry looked at him curiously, not having
heard anything about these new wards. "Dumbledore allowed the Dementors to stay
at the school, because the Ministry insisted, as long as they kept a certain distance
from the castle and the students. If the wards have gone off, it must mean..."
"The students are screaming. Of course the Dementors have breached the wards,"
Harry said with a roll of his eyes. Someone screaming was always the best indicator
of something bad happening. Wards could be tampered with, but fear... fear was
telling.
The Dementors hadn't only breeched the wards, Harry realized as he turned around.
They had also come inside the castle. One watched him from the threshold of the
classroom, its skeletal arms outstretched, before one fingers crooked in a 'come
hither' gesture. Harry walked towards it, unafraid, unaffected by its presence.
"Expecto Pat-" Lupin started to cast. But Harry stopped him with a glare and a
disarming spell.
"You are wanted, little human," it hissed at him. It wasn't quite Parseltongue, but it
was close and Harry narrowed his eyes, wondering if the creature only understood
hissed words or real English as well.
"What for?" Harry asked, using his normal accent. He didn't want to risk slipping into
Parseltongue in front of a Gryffindor professor. It was common knowledge that he
could speak it, but only a handful of people had actually heard him use it and so
most of the others only knew through rumours and gossip. It was easy to ignore
gossip, to refute it, and Remus had done just that, refusing to believe it until he
heard it for himself. Lord Voldemort had heard him speak it, but while using
Lockhart's body meant that Lockhart had been the one to hear it not him, it didn't
mean that Lord Voldemort didn't know it to still be true. But that was different to just
hearing of the ability through a stupid rumour.
The Dementor didn't answer and Harry thought for a moment whether he should

have hissed. But that was silly. How else did the Ministry communicate with them
except through English? So of course the Dementors must understand it.
"You are wanted at the Ministry. The Criminal Black demands your presence."
"It's the middle of the night!" Remus shouted. He raised his wand again, but the
Dementor had already taken hold of Harry's arm and pulled. Harry fell into the
creature's bony chest, letting out a gasp at the unexpected contact.
"No time..." it hissed, "like the... pressssssent." Harry disappeared into the corridor
with the creature. His bonfire continued to burn, ignored, as Remus chased his
student through the school. But then there were other Dementors in the corridor,
blocking his way, all of them hissing at him, "He is wanted." And Remus had no
choice but to let Harry go to the Ministry at six minutes past twelve on the first of
November.
What a start to the New Year.
XXX
November 6th 1993. Quidditch Pitch.
Gryffindor were actually running the Hufflepuff team into the ground. The poor
Hufflepuffs hadn't managed to score of Quaffle yet, and Gryffindor were already 100
points ahead by the time their Seeker managed to catch the snitch.
Draco snickered lightly in the stands, enjoying someone else's humiliation greatly.
The Hufflepuff team made their way forlornly towards their locker room, ignoring the
cheering that was loud and noticeable in the Gryffindor stand. The Slytherins booed
loudly, though they were still drowned out by the Gryffindors. The rest of the
Hufflepuff looked like they might cry but the Ravenclaws stayed still and quiet,
enjoying the match regardless of the victor.
Except Harry. Harry had stood up and was slowly making his way out of the stand
and down onto the ground below. Hermione Granger followed his example, slipping
away from the Gryffindors and chasing the lone Ravenclaw across the field.
"I need to talk to you," she shouted at his back.
Harry stopped walking. He turned back to face the girl, a polite smile on his face.
"What is it, Hermione, what now?" He rubbed at his eyes tiredly, and she frowned at
the sight of him.

"You don't look like you've been sleeping." She said instead of answering him. "Are
you ok?"
"It's rude to answer a question with a question," he told her with a grin. "I had to go
to the Ministry last night. The Dementors have a habit of collecting me at night.
Snape's going tonight, so he's bound to be even worse than normal in tomorrow
morning's Potions class."
"Oh joy," Hermione said drolly.
"Other than that, I'm fine. Now what did you want? I was trying to sneak off for a
nap." It was only 7pm, but Harry really did look exhausted. Hermione though had
tried sharing her theory with other people or searching in the library, but she hadn't
liked what she had found. And now she wanted the opinion of someone who
mattered to her, someone who would know but be unbiased about it.
"What do you know about werewolves?" She asked suddenly, wringing her hands in
front of her stomach.
Harry paused, mid-breath. He exhaled loudly, his mind racing as he wondered why
she would ask something like that. Harry frowned, narrowing his eyes at the girl and
asked, "Why?"
"Because," she told him, looking around nervously to see if anyone was listening in.
But there was no one around but them. Everyone else was still out on the pitch. "I
think there's one at Hogwarts."
XXX
Did you know that bonfires were originally called Bone Fires because you burnt the
bones of the animals you slaughtered and stored for the winter? Learn something
new every day.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Can you believe we broke 1,000
reviews? Yay! Thanks again.

Chapter 34
It's been like two weeks so it's not really 'been a while', but I suppose it's long
enough. I've gotten a promotion where I work and it's only my first day of managerial
training but I was up at 5:30am and I finished 3 hours later than I should have, so I'm
EXHAUSTED!
The start of this was actually meant to be part of the last chapter, but I missed it
somehow. I must have been working that day too (lately there aren't many days I
don't work).
Words: 4,090
Chapter 34
November 27th 1993. Quidditch Pitch.
Harry really hated playing Quidditch in the rain. He wasn't really that fond of playing
Quidditch either, but he had gotten used to winning and rather enjoyed the feeling
that victory brought with it. But playing in the rain was downright horrible. Not only
was it wet, and cold, and horrible, but it made his uniform cling uncomfortably to his
skin and it were clingy enough already. It also made the handle of his Nimbus 2001
slippery, so instead of chafing against his gloved hands the handle just kept sliding
out of his grip, and it was killing Harry's thighs trying to compensate.
Thunder and lightning were crashing above his head, and Harry glanced up warily as
the snitch flew higher and higher right into the centre of the storm. He wasn't going
to bother, because after all what went up would eventually come down, even if it was
magical and had magic powered wings; the snitch would eventually grow bored of
not being sought and come looking for a Seeker.
But then the Hufflepuff Seeker tilted upwards, broom handle pointed towards the sky
and the bristles trembling in Harry's face as he shot away. He turned over his
shoulder, brown hair blowing back out of his eyes and he grinned at Harry, "Eat my
dust."
Harry sighed heavily. He too then took off with a burst of speed towards the storm
clouds above him. When he finally caught up to the other Seeker he said, "Actually
there are no dust particles this high up." Harry grinned widely, his eye teeth poking
out over his lip. "So, instead, drink my spray." And sure enough, as Harry's broom
darted forward once more, it flicked to the left shooting a small jet of water right into
the Hufflepuff's face.

Harry was tempted to stick his tongue out, except he knew the other boy wouldn't
see. No one needed to know how immature he was being, no one would find out, but
it all seemed a bit pointless if even the one it was aimed at didn't notice. Harry's
hand shot out, fingers closing around the fluttering snitch. Just as Harry grabbed
hold of his broom again, a bolt of lightning appeared out of practically nowhere,
scorching just passed where Harry's arm had been and singeing the ends of his hair.
With trembling, slippery fingers, Harry steered his broom back down onto the
ground.
"And Ravenclaw win, with 180 points to 50!" Someone shouted, and people cheered.
Harry continued to hover on his broom centimetres above the ground. The rest of his
team mates rushed towards him, Roger through his arms around Harry's neck and
gave him a one armed hug, his other arm holding tight to his Comet 360.
Benjamin, one of the Chasers, tugged him off of his broom, and swung Harry around
in a wide circle. "That was close my friend," he said laughing.
"I was almost hit by lightning," Harry replied in an odd detached sort of voice.
"Oh," Benjamin whispered, "that was close!"
As he spoke, a rush of wind swept passed them, blowing up robes and rustling hair.
Every member of the team was holding tightly to their broom, except Harry; his was
still floating by his side, where he had left it once Benjamin pulled him off. The wind
caught the bristles, and Harry was too slow to react. He watched, confused at first as
it began to fly away from him, and then he realised what was really happening: the
wind was blowing it away.
"Oi!" He shouted, jumping forward and missing the tail end of the broom by half an
inch. "Oi!" But the broom was already gone, and no one else dared risking their own
broom to rescue Harry's.
With a crash and several cracks like the sound of breaking bones, the Nimbus 2001
hit the branches of the Whomping Willow and was no more. Harry turned to look at
his teammates. All of them stared back at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.
"And that was plain unlucky!" Benjamin added, ignoring the glare Harry sent his way.
XXX
December 6th 1993. Hogwarts.
Harry had learnt in first year that the best way to ensure that you were left alone was

to make other people think you already had company. Draco was under the
impression that Harry was studying with Theodore, and Theo thought Harry was with
Hermione, and he had told Hermione he'd be staying in the common room with
Draco that night, so none of them were looking for him.
He made his way to the owlery in silence. Harry had two letters waiting to be sent
off, one for Lucius accepting his offer of spending Yule at Malfoy Manor, and the
other was for his father. Evan would receive the usual, 'happy Yule time' wishes but
by letter this year, along with a shrunken gift (a sneakascope) on the off chance that
it came in handy, and post scripted on the bottom of that letter was the name of
anyone Remus Lupin had ever mentioned in passing as being his 'friend'. Harry had
assumed that meant 'ally', and Lord Voldemort would know if they were already
taken care of or not. And if it turned out to be useless information, well, it wasn't like
Voldemort was sending him anything anyway, so it didn't matter.
He tied Lucius' letter to Hedwig's leg. "It's only a handful of days more until the end
of term, and I'm spending the holidays there anyway. So unless Lucius wants to
reply, don't bother coming back to the school, girl." The owl hooted at him, and Harry
accepted that as an affirmative. He lifted his arm up, and Hedwig sunk her claws in
for a moment and then pushed off, taking flight gracefully and with ease. Harry
watched her, until she was little more than a white speck on the horizon and then he
called to a school owl.
"Take this to Albania," he told the plain brown owl. Harry tied the tiny parcel on, the
letter attached to the front and helped the creature launch into the air.
When it was gone, two boys stepped in through the threshold to the owlery, identical
smirks on their identical faces. "Who do you-" One began.
"Know in Albania?" The other finished.
"Fred, George," Harry greeted, nodding to the wrong twin at the wrong time,
because honestly he couldn't tell them apart and they knew that already. "Professor
Quirrell finally made it to Albania during the past summer, and as we got on rather
well in school we decided to keep up a correspondence. Ultimately, it annoys my
aunt to have Wizard post arriving at her Muggle home, so I keep up a
correspondence with as many magical folk as possible. Don't you?"
Fred tilted his head to one side, his hair just a tad bit longer than George's and it fell
into his eyes. "Even Lockhart?" He grinned widely.
"No," Harry said blandly. "Not him. Anyone but him." Although that was a lie,
because the Lockhart the twins knew had actually been Lord Voldemort, and Harry

had just sent off a message to him. "Why were you spying on me?"
"Spying?" "Us?" "On you?" They asked him in rapid succession.
Harry rolled his eyes, but waited patiently until they felt like responding. They had
been kind enough to him in his first year, and in second year they had made a valid
effort to keep Ginny away from him, and even after the whole Parseltongue debacle
they had continued to be friendly (but that was likely because they hadn't been there
and they didn't really put much stock in gossip). They had never pranked him, but
likely that was because Harry tended to glare viciously at anyone who so much
snickered at a bad joke made at his expense, never mind what he'd do to someone
who played a good joke on him!
"Well, our dear," "Heir of Slytherin, Prince," "of all that is Dark and dank and
unrighteous," "we hear that a certain," "ex-convict might just," "be after your guts and
garters."
"That's not the saying," Harry interrupted.
"Anyway," Fred continued where he had finished off, "we would like," "to offer you
protection, the," "only way we know," "how. Marauder style!"
"What's a Marauder?" Harry asked, even though he knew well. Remus had
particularly enjoyed the stories of himself and his friends reigning over Hogwarts as
the prankster kings. In the stories, Remus himself hadn't done much, but Harry
supposed that retelling the grandest, greatest, most extravagant stories probably
made the memories more real for him. It probably meant that he could live within his
fantasies and memories for that little bit longer than usual, and the smile would stay
on his face for those few extra seconds.
"Why!" George gasped. "Harry! Don't you know?"
"They were only THE best pranksters at Hogwarts!"
"Ever!" George shouted, and he and Fred traded wild grins. "We have this map, that
we..."
"Liberated?" Fred suggested.
"Liberated, because after all an invention this genius should be uncaged and
available to those in need, from Filch. We'd like to offer it to you."
"For your protection." Fred reached into his pocket and pulled it out. "It is our

understanding," George butted in, "from what our dear father had overheard in
work," "that Sirius Black will be out on parole this Christmas," "and since everyone
knows of his fascination with you," "dearest Heir of Slytherin, Darkness, dankness,
unrighteousness, etcetera," "etcetera, etcetera, we are certain that Sirius Black," "will
come to Hogwarts."
Fred handed over the map. Harry glanced at it, and immediately tucked it into his
pocket. It was late, and Theo would soon be back from the library and Draco would
know they hadn't been studying together at all and get into a sulk with him. If Draco
got into a sulk, no one in their dorm would sleep well that night. Harry wanted to do
his best to avoid that, and so he didn't have time to listen to the twins' explanations.
He already knew how the map worked, or had worked back in Remus' schooldays,
and Harry would bet his right arm that not one of the Marauders had bothered to
change the passwords after graduation.
"Thank you very much."
"Don't you want to know how it works?" Fred asked, furrowing his eyebrows in
confusion.
"I'm a Ravenclaw, I'm sure I'll figure it out. Now, why don't you both go back to...
managing mischief?" Harry kept his face purposely blank as the boys' eyes went
wide at his choice of words. He didn't respond to their questioning looks; instead,
Harry turned his back to them and made his way slowly from the owlery.
George shouted after him, "If you're not staying in Hogwarts you might as well give it
back! We need that, remember!"
Harry called back over his shoulder, pleased that the ginger twins couldn't see the
smirk playing over his lips, "oh yes, I'm definitely staying at Hogwarts for Yule. I
promise."
He kept two fingers crossed down by his thigh, and on the 19th of December Harry
boarded the Hogwarts Express home.
XXX
December 28th 1993. Malfoy Manor.
Harry gathered his gifts carefully into his arms before standing up. Draco did
likewise, both of them planning to horde their presents into their bedrooms for further
perusal later. The traditional Yule festivities had taken the appropriate three days
from start to finish, and this year it had been Narcissa's turn to act as the gift giver,

so Harry and Draco both had spent the past three days in a perpetual state of
awkwardness. Draco's mother, and the only mother-type-figure Harry had ever
known, spent three days completely naked in the same room as them and her
husband who kept making eyes at Harry. It was all very uncomfortably, and both
teenagers had been desperate to open their presents before adult eyes, as was part
of the Malfoy Yule tradition, and then escape from the room.
When their gifts were gathered, Harry nodded at Narcissa, his face flushing again as
she smiled back at him. He nodded at Lucius, ignoring the way the man continued to
stare at him even as he made his way from the room and left Draco to say his
goodbyes.
Draco went straight to his bedroom, or Harry assumed he did because he didn't
come into Harry's room and no one in their right mind would want to go into their
parents' room after the last three days of... naked mother-ness. Harry collapsed onto
his bed or at least the bed that the Malfoys had nominated as 'his' the first time Harry
had spent the night. The house elves just kept bringing him back to this room, and
over the years Harry had gotten used to calling it his, just as Draco and Lucius had.
His presents scattered across the duvet and Harry tugged up one at random. It was
a book, sent by Theo even though the letter included his name and his brothers.
Theodore had decided to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays to keep his brother
company. Terrance Nott was a ward of the Ministry, a magical orphan basically,
except there was nowhere to send those orphans and so where possible the Ministry
appointed someone to find someone else to foster the child until they came of age.
There had been the odd desperate time where the Ministry had just paid for a couple
kids to sleep in one of the rooms at the Leaky Cauldron for a few weeks until
someone had come forward to foster them. But Terrance appeared to be one of the
lucky ones. There was already a family interested, and while the father was a
Muggleborn, the mother was Pureblood and they had a son already who attended
Durmstrang. The only problem was that they were considering taking Terrance out of
Hogwarts if they managed to successfully adopt; if they were only allowed to foster,
then it didn't matter to them where the young boy went to school.
Terrance wasn't allowed to spend the holidays with a potential family, lest he
'influence' them in one way or the other, and Theo hadn't wanted to leave his elder
brother alone at Hogwarts.
Harry read through the letter, having ignored it when he opened the gift and smiled
softly. Terrance seemed much happier with Theodore around. Harry hoped the
Bjorks, should they adopt, allowed Terrance to remain at school with his brother. The
boy brushed his hair back off his face, resolving to get it cut sometime before he

went back to school himself, and grabbed the next gift. It was strange and interesting
looking, long, thin and silver and shaped like a Muggle lighter.
It came with a note, which read: "I hear that Dementors suffer an uncommon
attraction to you, child. I hope this gift comes in useful. With regards, your
friend, TMR."
Harry dropped the deluminator in shock. Voldemort had sent him a Christmas
present, he thought with shock. Which could only mean that the list of names he had
sent along had been useful, or that they hadn't and Harry now owed Voldemort a
real gift, which would be embarrassing and awkward and kind of suck a little. What
did one buy the Dark Lord of the Wizarding World who had been disembodied some
years ago? A body? Harry snorted at the thought. If bodies were so easy to come by,
then Voldemort would have found himself a replacement years ago! Hopefully, he
thought as he reached for the next letter in the pile, the list of names had come in
handy.
Before he could grab for it, his bedroom door opened. Lucius stood regally in the
doorframe, a pale blond eyebrow arched until Harry invited him in.
Lucius brushed his lips lightly against Harry's own for a second before he sat beside
the boy on the bed. "Happy Yule, love," he whispered. Harry's eyes widened. He
tried to think if Lucius had ever used a pet name for him before, especially one such
as that, and came up blank. Had he, hadn't he; Harry couldn't recall, but the word
from Lucius' mouth made his heart hammer in his chest and a flush crawl up his
neck.
"Accio," the blonde summoned with a flick of his wand.
A broom flew in through the doorway that Lucius had purposely left open, and Harry
gasped at the sight of it. "That's a Firebolt!" He whispered, looking horridly excited.
"You're welcome, love." An amused smirk played on Lucius' mouth, and Harry's eyes
were drawn to the pink lips, slightly parted and moist.
He licked his own lips, eyes wide and cheeks red, and breathed, "I meant thank
you."
Lucius rolled his eyes, but leant forward again, allowing Harry to brush their lips
together once more. He pulled away almost a second later, eyeing the blushing
teenager fondly before reaching out to run his fingers through the messy, black hair.
"I have something else for you."

"What is it?" Harry asked, pursing his lips together as he bent to the side, trying to
see if anything was hidden behind Lucius' back.
"How childish," the elder Wizard chided lightly. "It is not a physical gift; I got you an
expensive one of those already, remember? I have a story to tell you. Evan tells me
you're desperate to hear it."
"About Sirius?" Harry asked softly. The Marauders Map was tucked into his trunk
somewhere, hidden between two books and under a set of robes, just in case
anyone went snooping. If he recalled correctly, that would have been Sirius' copy of
the map, confiscated by Filch when they were younger themselves. It was a brilliant
piece of magic, and Harry wanted to take it apart and study it and recreate a version
of his own, one that included Hogsmeade maybe, or the Chamber of Secrets, or one
of the Ministry or Azkaban or Malfoy Manor. Imagine the possibilities! But it was also
a part of his legacy, something that he should have inherited, like he had inherited
the Invisibility Cloak and his gold and his untameable hair. But Filch had taken this
copy, and then the twins had taken it, and who knew what had happened to James'
or Remus' copy, or the fourth Marauder, the one Remus never named. He must have
had a copy too, right?
Harry was tempted to go searching for the map, to activate it and see whether Sirius
really did go to Hogwarts for him, but there was no point. Harry had tested it the day
he arrived at Malfoy Manor, and it didn't appear to work outside of Hogwarts'
grounds. That was something else that Harry would like to research and improve
upon. Imagine, no matter what side he was on, if he had a map capable of keeping
track of everyone, everywhere, no matter where he was himself. He would always be
safe. It was a lovely thought, but not a likely one.
"Once upon a time," Lucius began softly and Harry gave a loud snort of amusement
which went ignored. "Four boys went to Hogwarts and became friends. Your real
father was one of them. They were all rather horrid to Severus, you know, which is
why he doesn't like you much."
"He doesn't?" Harry asked, looking shell shocked. "And I thought we were going to
get married." He shot Lucius a droll look, rolling his eyes.
Lucius ignored his sarcasm and continued. "When they grew up, one of them got
married and had a son, you. Then the Dark Lord went looking for you, and for them,
and the man hid with his family hoping to keep them safe, as I would have done too."
Lucius cupped Harry's cheek, turning the boy's face towards him. They stared at
each other for a moment, watching each other's face for any negative reaction so far.
"One of their friends gave away their location, the secret to the place that they were

hidden, and your parents were killed. Sirius Black went looking for that traitor. The
traitor attacked him, killing thirteen Muggles in the process and faking his own death,
and Sirius Black was sent to prison without a trial."
"Sirius is innocent? He isn't a Death Eater?" Harry folded his hands in his lap,
allowing Lucius to continue to hold his chin even as he gazed away. He watched his
fingers entwine with one another, watched his hands fold and close over each other
and then open again, anything to avoid the look of pity on Lucius' face.
"Not to my knowledge, no. And yes, he was, very innocent. But it was a terrible time,
Harry. Everything was chaos, timeless and all consuming, and no one was really
concerned with what happened to anyone else. Even those who had remained unaccused were quick to sell out friends and neighbours in the hopes of looking good
before the Ministry."
"Then why does Voldemort want to free him?"
"I," Lucius sighed and glanced away, "can't tell you that. To be honest, I'm not sure
that I even know for certain. I have my suspicions of course, and I've done exactly as
my Lord has instructed me to, and Evan has mentioned things here and there, but
no one had outright told me what is to happen with Black. But I do know this, he is
your family. He is actually your cousin on your father's side, second or third cousin,
but still blood. He is your Godfather, the one chosen to love and protect you, and yes
he made a stupid mistake and tried to seek revenge without thinking of the
consequences or of you, but he was honourable and brave if nothing else. And he
loves you. I don't know what our Lord wants with him, or with you, but I swear to you,
love, Sirius Black would sooner die than harm you." Lucius pressed their mouths
together again, longer this time, harder. Harry poked his tongue out, trying to coax
Lucius into responding, but as always Lucius kept their kiss closed-mouthed and
innocent.
"You don't have to be afraid of him." Lucius added after they broke away.
"I wasn't. I'm not," Harry told him honestly. "I'm worried about what might happen if I
decide I want to keep him. What Evan will think, or do, or say, if I decide to love him.
I'm afraid of what Voldemort might do if Sirius wasn't a Death Eater, and he's not.
And I'm glad you told me the truth, because apparently the truth is a hard thing to
find in the media and in books, but now I'm even more worried than I was before.
What do I do, Lucius," Harry asked softly, green eyes brightened by tears, "if they
give him back and I love him and then Voldemort takes him away again?"
"Don't fall in love with him," Lucius offered, swallowing heavily as he pulled Harry

into a tight hug. "Love only me," he added in a whisper. He knew what Harry had
meant, of course, and Harry knew what Lucius was trying to do, and so he offered a
fake smile and pretended that he felt better and pulled away from the hug with
another whispered thanks.
"Easier said than done," he teased, insinuating that loving Lucius was hard. But
learning to love anyone was hard to avoid, especially family that you had long been
deprived of, and Harry didn't think he actually had the strength to keep Sirius at a
distance if the man really did want to be his family. Evan was his family, his only
family until Hogwarts, and then Theo had arrived, and before that Draco had always
sort of been there, and Lucius in a non-platonic way, and now Remus and Sirius
were both trying to force their way into his life, there seemed something better about
having a Godfather love him than a simple friend of the family.
No offence to Remus, but he really wasn't Harry's cup of tea. Sirius though, Sirius
might have potential. His own family had been Dark, or at least neutral, and they
were family too. If that didn't sway him to Harry's side (whichever side that may be,
though worryingly he was leaning more towards the Dark than anything), then Sirius
wasn't worth the heartache. Or at least that's what Harry told himself.
XXX
I have 2 chapters of Through the Looking Glass done, and I'm just waiting until my
beta finds the time. Regardless, I have to be up at 5:30 again for work tomorrow, so
goodnight! Hope you enjoyed the chapter.

Chapter 35
Hey all, for a one shot I'm planning I need a male Death Eater that would have been
in Azkaban until 1994 at least. I can't decide on one, so you pick.
Words: 2,275
Chapter 35
January 2nd 1994. Hogwarts Express.
The compartment was cold, and icicles were forming along the edges of the
windows. Harry pushed himself out of his seat. Draco followed his lead, his wand
held out threateningly as the door to their train compartment slid open. It was the
lady who pushed the sweet trolley, and she smiled widely at the four of them before
exclaiming, "We're here, boys, time to get off the train."
Theodore glanced around uneasily. Terrance peeked through the window, wiping
away the condensation and the ice with the sleeve of his robe. "I could have sworn,"
Draco began, mumbling angrily as he tucked his wand away.
"Keep it out," Harry ordered, his own wand falling easily into his grasp. They pulled
their luggage down from the racks, and left them piled on the floor once they had
stepped off of the train. The cold settled over them again, making all four boys
shiver. Around them, other students trembled and their teeth chattered, and Harry
sighed loudly as he spotted the cause of the extremely chilly weather.
There was snow on the ground, crunching beneath their feet, and falling from the
trees, and there were icicles hanging from the roof of the Hogwarts Express, but the
mist and the chill that permeated the bones of every student present was a result of
the Dementors. There were a group of them, clustered at the entrance to
Hogsmeade, and as each Thestral-drawn carriage made its way from the train to
Hogwarts it had to pass by the waiting creatures.
Harry chose to travel alone, insisting his friends get into a compartment before him
and then standing back as it began moving without him. He caught the next empty
one, scaring away the first years that tried to follow him inside. It was for their benefit
after all, Harry told himself, watching the Dementors nervously as they grew closer to
him. As he passed them by, the carriage jerked wildly, as the Dementors swarmed
over the Thestrals, shoving them out of the way so that they could glide closer to
Harry. The teenager sat still and silent, eyeing the creatures warily, glancing at the
clawed hands that pulled at his hair and his face and clothing.

"Ours." They groaned together. "Death. Ours. Us."

The deluminator Voldemort had sent him for Yule was in his cloak pocket, but Harry
let it be. It would have warded the Dementors away for a few minutes, but Harry
didn't want them to leave. He wanted to see what would happen; would it be like the
last time, where they merely tried to touch him, or would they go further this time,
attempt to kiss him perhaps or take him with them?
One hand pawed at Harry's scar, ruffling the hair that covered it. It drew away with a
scream, a doe Patronus butting angrily at its side, herding the creature and its
brothers away from Harry. The dark haired boy glanced up. Professor Snape had
apparated onto the train station, which was outside of the anti-apparation wards, and
cast the Patronus a second time. He cast something at the Thestrals, and Harry
gasped as they began to run. He glanced over his shoulder at the cluster of
Dementors that stared after him but didn't dare to follow. He could still feel their bony
fingers on his skin, their cold breath on his face, but he wasn't afraid. They hadn't
been planning to hurt him, Harry knew. And he also knew that he was right. The
Dementors could sense he was a Horcrux.
XXX
January 6th 1994.
"Harry," Remus called as the boy was about to slip out of the Defence classroom.
Harry looked up from the piece of parchment he had been reading and stopped
walking. He turned back to face his professor and smiled softly, "yes?"
"Stay behind for a moment, please, Harry." Remus turned to talk to another student
and Harry glanced back down at the dot that marked 'Lucius Malfoy' wandering the
halls of Hogwarts.
"Mischief managed," he murmured, tucking the map into his trouser pocket out of
sight. "What is it you wanted, professor?" Harry asked once they were alone.
"I heard about the situation with the Dementors. They're behaviour is starting to
become worrying, Harry. I spoke briefly with the Headmaster and he believes, as do
I, that something must be done to protect you, or," he paused and ran a hand
nervously through his hair, "to enable you to protect yourself."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked curiously. He wasn't in danger from the
Dementors, though he didn't feel like explaining why that was, so he widened his
eyes and tried to appear afraid. Like they all thought he was supposed to be.

"How would you feel about extra lessons? I was thinking perhaps every Thursday
after class, and I would teach you the Patronus Charm. It repels Dementors. You
probably saw professor Snape using it, didn't you?" Remus smiled warmly, pleased
at the opportunity to spend more time with the boy who seemed so unwilling to
spend time with James Potter's friend.
"I saw. It appeared to be a rather handy spell to have in one's repertoire. I accept
your offer, professor Lupin. See you this Thursday." He smiled and nodded once,
before turning away from the werewolf.
He tried not to think about the man as much as possible, but Hermione was still
continuing on with her assumption that because Remus was a werewolf someone
must be notified. Obviously Dumbledore knew he was a werewolf, the man had been
a student here as a werewolf too, and it was sort of hard to hide his disappearing act
three nights a week once a month after all. But Hermione wouldn't be persuaded,
and so Harry had taken to avoiding her again. He pulled the map out of his pocket
again and whispered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," and grinned widely as
'Lucius Malfoy' continued to pace the hall.
Harry took off in the direction of the Slytherin common room, hoping to intercept
Lucius' visit to his son. He hoped to perhaps convince the man that snogging in an
unused classroom would be more prudent than whatever business he had at
Hogwarts was. A wide smile crossed his lips, because if Lucius was heading away
from the Headmaster's office he must have already finished his duties and would
have no other reason to refuse to abscond with Harry for a few minutes"or slightly
more, if Harry could keep the blonde sufficiently distracted for that long.
Which he could, he told himself, tucking the map away just as Lucius came into
sight.
"Harry!" The man gasped, surprised to see him appear so suddenly around the
corner.
"Hello, Lucius." Harry whispered, reaching out to grab the man's hand.
"Hello, beloved," Lucius answered, pulling Harry in for a kiss.
XXX
January 15th 1994. Quidditch Pitch.
The Dementors had terrible timing, Harry thought angrily to himself as they appeared
over the Quidditch pitch, circling the area like strange, malignant storm clouds. The

Slytherins and Ravenclaws on the Quidditch teams shuddered, each of them angling
their brooms closer to the ground, forgetting about the game in an attempt to escape
the Dementors' notice.
They came lower without warning, circling Harry. They reached out to him, almost
pulling him off of his broom at one point, before Harry managed to right himself in
time to save himself from a terrible, horrible fall.
"Come." One whispered.
"Summoned to the Ministry."
"Sirius Black summons Ours."
They hissed around him, sibilant and hoarse sounding and Harry thought that this
change in their demeanour compared to how they were when he had first
encountered them on the train meant they were excited. They had found someone
like them, someone who revelled in death and the tearing of a soul by all
appearances, and they were excited by that fact.
"I will come to the Ministry. When should I come?" Harry questioned, even as his
eyes darted around for the Snitch.
"Now. Come now, Ours." One Dementor grabbed his arm tightly and pulled. Harry
slipped off of his broom, but another Dementor was there, gripping his other arm and
keeping the teenager suspended a hundred feet in the air.
Harry swallowed heavily, glancing down at his falling broom and the clouds that
mostly blocked him from view. "Don't drop me."
"One of Us. Ours." They hissed at him. "Never." They held him tightly, all of them
circling him just in case their brothers' grip slipped and they would be close enough
to catch and hold the boy. They would bring him to the Ministry safe, because he
called to them, to something deep within them. Something dark stirred within them at
this boys' presence, and each of them thought back to the last war and to the Dark
Lord that had commanded them fearlessly and who they had followed with pride.
"Ours," they hissed again, talking about the Dark Lord this time, but Harry didn't
know that. He glanced at them and nodded in agreement, still thinking (and being
partially right) that they meant his Horcrux.
The Firebolt fell, and purely by instinct Draco reached out and caught the falling
object as it passed him by. The broom impacting against his hand made it ache, but
his chest hurt more when he realized that it was Harry's broom and that Harry hadn't

followed it out of the sky. He was worried, as were the rest of the Quidditch players
so all appeared to have forgotten about the match, and Draco glanced down at the
stand, at the vague shape that was his father and his godfather and the Polyjuiced
figure of Evan Rosier and he hoped that Harry was ok. But then the Snitch fluttered
in front of his face, almost daring him to let it pass by.
And because he was a Slytherin first and foremost, Draco let go of his own broom
and caught the golden Snitch.
Slytherin won, 200 to 120.
XXX
February 3rd 1994. Gryffindor Tower.
The third year boys had gathered around the bed of Seamus Finnegan. His dad was
a Muggle, but his mother worked in the Ministry law division. She had spent a lot of
time with Harry lately, Seamus told his dorm mates. And contrary to popular belief
and even what the papers were saying, Harry hadn't actually met Sirius yet. He went
to the Ministry a lot, but Seamus' mum had told him that sometimes the Dementors
just brought him because they could. Sometimes no one had even asked to see
Harry, but he would appear, with a flock of Dementors around him, and spend the
rest of his even being question and checked by medi-Wizards and briefed on the
eventual trial of Sirius Black.
"That's a bit strange, isn't it?" Dean Thomas, a Muggleborn, asked.
"Yeah but you've all seen the weird way those creatures are around Potter. It's
almost like they like him, you know!" Ron muttered. He had never quiet given up on
being Harry's friend, because Harry was famous and rich and handsome and overall
a nice guy, whereas Ron was just average and poor and unnoticeable. Being Harry's
friend brought fame and attention and Ron wanted nothing more in life than to be
better and more successful than his elder brothers. And what would be the easiest
way to do that, than by riding on the coattails of the Boy-Who-Lived. But Harry didn't
seem to think they'd make a good team, preferring those no good Death Eater brats
to him, and that blasted annoying Granger girl too. "I bet those Slytherins had
something to do with it," Ron hissed.
"What?" Neville gasped. He was a quiet boy, and the rest of his dorm mates tended
to forget he was even in the room until he spoke. "How is it their fault?"
"I don't know! But it is!" Ron told them unintelligently.

"Anyway!" Seamus butted in, steering the attention back onto himself. "They've
finally released Black on parole. Someone paid his bail, and well Mum wasn't sure
who but there are rumours in the Ministry that it was Malfoy. That's why he was here
last month, to talk to the Headmaster about Black visiting Potter. According to mum
they've scheduled a visit for the fifth."
"That's two days away!" Dean exclaimed, looking worried.
"Good thing he isn't in Gryffindor, huh? Black doesn't have a reason to come here,
does he?" Neville question, his voice and hands shaking.
"Nah course he doesn't. What would Black want in the Gryffindor Tower when Potter
is on the other side of the castle?" Ron gave an inelegant snort at the idea of the
infamous Black getting lost in Hogwarts and ending up at their dorm. He shared his
mental imagery with his friends, and the others giggled and laughed along with him.
But unknown to them all, Scabbers the rat used the paw with one finger missing to
push open the door of his cage. The rat jumped onto the bedding, and then slid
down onto the floor, and then scarpered. The four Gryffindors never noticed Ron's
pet rat escape the room.
In the Ravenclaw common room, Harry glanced down at his map, examining which
names were moving where and who with. His eyebrows drew together as a name he
had never seen before appeared on the map, in the third year Gryffindor boys'
dormitory of all places, before leaving the Tower and heading outside. Once the dot
reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, 'Peter Pettigrew' disappeared off the
map.1
XXX
1 " I'm going with the idea of since the map in canon never picked up the names of
pets or the Basilisk (since I'm sure the Twins might have mentioned that) that it
doesn't read animals or animagi if they act like animals. So, Trevor being a real toad
wouldn't be noticed. But Peter, as a human, would have to stay inside of a real pet's
cage, which would probably be charmed to refill food and regulate temperature.
Leaving the cage reveals his own magic to the magic of the map (if that makes any
sense). Also, Peter has never been mentioned by name, so Harry has no idea who
he is.
Thanks for reading. It's terribly short, but I really don't have the motivation to do
anything lately, though there isn't much left of year 3. I'm stressing over the Thesis
I haven't even started yet sigh! FML I have less than 7 weeks to research and
write 15k words. Why do I procrastinate so hard?

Chapter 36
And we finally see Sirius Black. I didn't like him very much, I don't think I did a good
job :/ But anyway, enjoy and there should only be one more chapter left of Year 3!
Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter..... ahhhh! 11,000 words left to go
for my Thesis :(
Words: 3,441
Chapter 36
February 5th 1994. Quidditch Pitch.
Ravenclaw and Gryffindor were playing. For once the Dementors were nowhere in
sight, the sky was a bright shade of blue and the winter sun beat down on the
audience scattered through the stands. Evan hadn't been able to make this game,
but Lucius sat between his son and his son's dorm-mates watching Harry dive
towards the snitch.
Screams and gasps rang out across the pitch, but the players were too high up to
hear them. Lucius looked around, his face calm, even as he pulled his wand free
from its holster. Theodore and Terrence were huddled together, watching with wide
eyes as Sirius Black followed four Aurors into the Slytherin stand. Lucius shifted
sideways to make room for his cousin-in-law, pushing Draco further down the bench,
and the Aurors waited silently, standing at the back of the nervous crowd of children
and adults.
"Black," Lucius greeted with a nod of his head and a low voice.
"Malfoy," Sirius said, offering a small smile. "Is Harry playing? I don't see him."
"He's there," Lucius told him, pointing at the slight boy in the blue and bronze robes.
"Oh." He spoke slowly and loudly, blinking his eyes a few times, and Lucius got the
impression that the man had forgotten what House Harry was in. "I forgot he was a
'Claw," Sirius murmured a moment later, confirming Lucius' thoughts. "Would have
thought he'd be a Gryf like his parents, strange that."
"Strange," Lucius said non-committaly, secretly thinking it would have been strange
to have Harry in Gryffindor considering his father was Evan Rosier. But he'd let Sirius
have his idle fantasies. "So, you are free?" Lucius begun, trying to strike up a
conversation.

Sirius' eyes were on Harry, and Draco held his hand out, offering his pair of
Omnioculars. Sirius took them, offering his cousin a small smile. He held them to his
face, answering Lucius without looking at him, and stared as his godson swept
across the sky, chasing the golden snitch. "Oh, I'm on parole. The Aurors are armed
and dangerous, or so they say. I get to spend the day with Harry though, which
should be awesome. Haven't seen Harry in years," he said, trailing off wistfully.
"More like a decade," Theodore muttered to his brother. Draco snorted softly,
nudging his friend with his elbow. "What? It's true!"
"So it is," Sirius whispered, turning his head to look at the pale, dark haired boy.
Sirius' hair fell in loose curls to his chin, his fringe brushing the bottoms of his
eyebrows, and grey eyes narrowed as pale lips frowned. "Shame that, eh?" He
grinned widely then, looking gaunt and pale, and nothing his fancy clothes or new
haircut did would ever hide the fact that he hadn't seen the sun in twelve years.
When Harry's fingers closed over the snitch, Sirius cheered the loudest. He jumped
to his feet, and behind him the Aurors pulled out their wands in suspicion, but Sirius
only clapped and whistled, screaming, "that's my godson!" at anyone who looked his
way. Lucius clapped slowly, rolling his eyes at his cousin's behaviour and imagining
his Lord or Evan's reaction to the show Sirius was making of himself.
It caught Harry's attention though. He was about to leave the pitch, following his
team mates to the changing room, but he turned around and his eyes instantly
landed on the tall man who was waving his arms frantically in the air. Across the
pitch, the Weasley twins stopped and stared. Simultaneously, they both turned to
Harry and shouted, "Oi! Don't even think about replacing us!"
"We're your only crazy, older friends."
"You got that Potter?"
Harry gave a slow nod, eyes moving back towards Sirius. His heart was beating
heavily in his chest and it was becoming difficult to swallow. He had known Sirius
would visit today, but he had assumed it would be later, a quick evening visit before
curfew that Harry would need to cut short so as to avoid losing house points and
spending awkward minutes with his innocently incarcerated godfather. The fears
were still there, and Harry hated himself for being so afraid. Either he loved his
godfather or he didn't, and Sirius either accepted him as he was or he didn't;
whatever happens happens, and worrying about the outcome wasn't helping
anything. Harry scolded himself silently, finally offering Sirius a small wave, and then
he ran after his team-mates, wanting to get out of sight.

XXX
It was later that night, almost eight in fact, and the students were filing into the great
hall to await their dinner. Sirius and Harry had spent the day together, from Harry
emerging from the changing room to find Sirius waiting until now where Sirius was
walking Harry towards the hall, the team of Aurors following silently behind them.
"Well kid," Sirius said, wringing his hands in front of his stomach.
It had been a little awkward, but of course it had. Sirius had been expecting a carbon
copy of James Potter, and instead he had found Lily's eyes and Lily's brain, and a
dry sense of humour and calm serious that was more suited to a Slytherin than a
Potter. Harry seemed like a wonderful kid, and Sirius was glad of the chance to know
him, and so very grateful for whatever reason Lucius Malfoy had decided to spring
him from Azkaban. But he just wasn't what Sirius had been expecting, and several
times Sirius had forgotten the boy wasn't a Gryffindor and put his foot in it, or
insulted a Slytherin forgetting they were Harry's friends.
Harry had borne most of it calmly, clenching his jaw or his fists at all of Sirius' wellintended jokes at his friends' expenses or the insults to his own house. He had kept
his temper, and what counted most was that he actually liked Sirius. When the man
wasn't being a thoughtless, insulting moron, he was actually funny and kind and
interesting. Harry had thought it strange, having Remus Lupin force stories of the
Marauder days down his throat during their anti-Dementor lessons and even during
Defence Against the Dark Arts, but when Sirius spoke about his father, Harry wanted
to hear more. Maybe it was because Sirius was actually family, and he had a right
therefore to speak about Harry's family to him, while Remus was just a friend. Or
maybe it was because despite all of Harry's fears over the situation, he really did
want Sirius to like him. Being nice to Sirius, and apparently listening to all of the
man's stories, would go a long way to making the Gryffindor like him.
"This is where I leave you," Sirius said, pulling the boy into a quick hug. "Maybe we
can do this again sometime?"
"Yes," Harry agreed immediately. He jumped slightly, as if the words had taken him
by surprise, and honestly he was shocked that he had agreed so quickly. "I'd like to
do this again. Hogsmeade weekend is on the twelfth, if you want to meet there? Are
you allowed to meet outside of the school?" Harry furrowed his brows.
"I don't even know if I'm allowed to leave the Ministry before the trial! I might be on
parole, but to the shower of wankers running the government that means locking me
in a holding cell instead of my usual Azkaban cell."

"Charming," Harry drawled, frowning at the dark look on Sirius' face. He looked like
he would happily stab a couple of people, and Harry wondered if the man ever might
be convinced to give into that darker side of himself. But then he pushed the thought
away. It was the same as worrying about whether he would join Voldemort or not;
pointless worrying, that didn't solve anything, and could be focused upon at a later
time.
"Well kiddo," Sirius said with a smile, offering another hug, "If they let you escape the
castle, come visit me instead." Harry left after agreeing, and just as the doors to the
hall closed behind him, Peeves floated into sight. Sirius smiled up at him, his hand
clenching on the note that Lucius Malfoy had slipped him during the Quidditch
match, hidden in his pocket, and reminding him exactly why the Ministry had let him
come to Hogwarts. Malfoy had made them. Malfoy wanted something from him. It
hadn't been about seeing his godson for the first time since the boy was one.
Peeves attacked the Aurors, laughing and throwing things as the Wizards attempted
to fight off the poltergeist, but Sirius knew from experience that the only two who
could win against Peeves were Dumbledore or the Bloody Baron. Both would stay
inside of the great hall until at least nine.
While the Aurors were distracted, Sirius ducked out of sight, escaping down the
hallway towards Filch's office. Harry wasn't the only one with a Marauders Map,
because after all they had made four of them, and Filch had confiscated three.
Surely, one more must have remained unstolen by a curious student, Sirius thought
as he ran. His plan depended on it, he told himself as he jiggled the doorknob and
slipped inside.
And as he found what he was looking for, he unfolded the parchment and whispered,
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
It was time to find Peter Pettigrew.
XXX
February 10th 1994.
It was their sixth anti-Dementor lesson, and the more Harry succeeded with the
Patronus Charm the less the Boggart looked like a Dementor.
"It is your fear of them," Remus whispered. "If you fear a Dementor, the Boggart will
look like a Dementor. But now that you can fend one off, now that you can defend
yourself and have no reason to fear a Dementor, the Boggart will change into
something else you fear." Remus clapped him on the back, looking like a proud

parents as Harry's Patronus pranced by his side. It was silvery white, shining faintly
and pulsing with magic, and the gradually shifting Boggart was backing its way into
its cupboard slowly. He would jump out again soon, and Harry wondered what it
would look like. According to Remus it wouldn't be a Dementor now that he had
succeeded, but then Harry had never been afraid of the Dementors so why had the
Boggart chosen that shape in the first place? Was there a way to force them to look
like something in particular, Harry wondered.
The Patronus turned towards Harry, as if asking if there was still a reason for it to
remain. Harry admired it for a moment, taking in the shape and size of it, its
distinctive features, the antenna on its head that quivered as it waited and the
patches of fur that seemed to be a deeper white than the rest of it. The Caterpillar
disappeared as Harry waved his wand. From the way Remus had spoken about his
father and their animagus forms, he had probably assumed that Harry's Patronus
would be a stag. But Evan, it appeared, had been right once more. Harry really was
a caterpillar.
The Boggart leapt from the cupboard again. The Dementor stretched its arms out, its
face covered but it wailed, sounding nothing like the real creatures did, and Harry
raised his eyebrow at Remus Lupin.
"Uh," the man said unintelligibly. "Well, perhaps you are more afraid than you
thought?" Harry just continued to stare. Remus' wand flicked behind his back, subtly
but Harry still caught the movement. "Or perhaps you simply fear nothing but fear
itself?"
"And fear itself fears nothing but Chuck Norris," Harry drawled with a roll of his eyes.
Remus had flicked his wand again, and the Boggart had shifted again, changing
shape briefly before becoming a Dementor again. It was settled, Harry thought, as
he picked up his bag. Remus had a way to make the Boggart take shape. He
wondered briefly, what his true greatest fear was, though silently he thanked Remus
for not allowing that fear to be known. Knowing Harry's terrible luck, it would be his
uncle, and wouldn't that be suspicious.
"Did you hear about Sirius Black?" Remus called as Harry slipped out of the door.
He was making an attempt to call Harry back for tea, and Harry was used to the
efforts Remus went through to spend time with him by now that the boy merely
called over his shoulder without waiting.
"I heard." Though, honestly, he had no idea what Remus was talking about. One of
his friends would know though.

"Apparently Sirius Black broke into Gryffindor Tower!" Draco said excitedly.
"He ripped up the painting of the Fat Lady." Theo added with a wide grin on his face.
"I don't know," Terrence said looking sceptical. "I heard that when the Aurors went
looking for him, they found him waiting calmly by the Portkey. They can't prove it was
him."
"The portrait said it was!"
"You'd believe a painting over a man that's about to be freed from prison? Obviously
Black won't do anything to send himself back!" And so Theodore and Terrence
began to argue, and Harry watched them, thinking of the school owl that had
delivered him a blank piece of parchment the night Sirius had left the school. He had
left it in his trunk, not thinking much of it other than that it might have been a hidden
message from Lord Voldemort, and it had since slipped his mind. But now, now
Harry wondered if perhaps it had been from Sirius instead?
He might have been wrong, but he was starting to think that maybe, just maybe,
there was more than one Marauders Map. Remus hadn't said either way, but Harry
had always assumed that they shared between the four of them. "I have to go! Not
hungry!" Harry called, jumping up from the Slytherin table and jogging from the hall
before anyone could stop him. He wanted to check his theory, and he wanted to see
if Peter Pettigrew's name appeared again. Who he was, Harry didn't know, but he
had left Gryffindor Tower two days before Sirius had broken in.
Something strange was going on.
XXX
February 12th 1994. Hogsmeade.
Sirius hadn't been allowed to visit Hogwarts again. He had sent Harry a letter that
morning, delivered by a Dementor who actually had the gall to float into the great hall
and drop the note onto Harry's breakfast. Hermione had finally let the issue of
Remus maybe being a werewolf drop and so Harry had been having breakfast with
her. Now, he was walking through Hogsmeade with her, because she was a
Gryffindor, and he needed a favour.
"Hey Hermione," Harry started, pausing to think back on what Sirius' letter had said.
They were short on evidence. They needed to find the man who had framed Sirius
for murder to prove that Sirius hadn't been the Secret keeper for the Potters'. No one
seemed to care whether Sirius had or hadn't killed those Muggles, no one seemed to

want proof either way, but they did want to find someone called Peter Pettigrew.
Peter had been a Marauder, his father's friend, the Secret keeper who betrayed
them to Voldemort.
Peter Pettigrew had been hiding in Gryffindor Tower as Ron's pet rat. Harry had seen
him slip into the Forbidden Forest on the map and thought nothing of it.
"Hey Hermione," Harry started again. "Could you do me a favour? I've been sort of
cruel to Ron, and I know that, and I feel really guilty about it. I was thinking of doing
something nice for him, and I know he's always going on about how much he hates
Scabbers, so, well, Draco mentioned something about a Pet Spa in France and I
was going to look into it. The only problem is I need to send photos and details about
the pet, so I'd need to get hold of Scabbers. Only, I don't want Ron to know yet, in
case it doesn't work out, so... could you, maybe, bring me Scabbers?" Harry didn't
think he had ever spoken so fast in his life. It was the most unrealistic excuse he had
ever come out with, but it was better than the truth, and he knew he had to say it fast
or he'd never be able to pull it off.
Hermione glanced at him, looking a little cautious and a little sad. For a moment
Harry thought she might cry, but then she narrowed her eyes at him and frowned. "If
you're thinking of pranking Ron's rat you might as well forget about it, Harry Potter!"
She glared at him, and Harry knew she hadn't believed him at all.
"I wasn't, I wasn't," he insisted anyway.
"It doesn't matter of course. Ron isn't speaking to me right now, not that he ever was
you understand, but well, Crookshanks, my cat, well he ate Ron's rat. So whatever
you were planning to do you might as well forget about it. There is no rat. Not now."
Now there really was tears in her eyes, but Harry didn't acknowledge them because
he didn't think she'd appreciate it, and so he turned his face away looking a little
upset himself until Hermione had composed herself.
"Butterbeer?" He asked, once she had stopped sniffling.
"Sure," she had agreed, red eyes brightening as she wiped the tears from them.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, Harry thought as he followed her into the Three Broomsticks.
Pettigrew hadn't been eaten, but the map didn't cover the forest so how the hell was
he meant to find the traitorous rat?
Fuck.
XXX

April 3rd 1994. Forbidden Forest.

The Easter holidays were upon them. Most of the students had gone home for the
two week break, but Harry didn't have time this year to celebrate Ishtar1. He had
spent the end of February scouring the Forest and the area surrounding Hogsmeade
hoping to stumble upon Pettigrew, and at last he thought he might have finally been
successful. He knew he wouldn't be able to capture the Death Eater alone though,
and so he had wrote to Lord Voldemort, requesting Evan's aide.
"Hello, my son," Evan breathed into his ear as he snuck up behind the boy. Harry
turned in his arms, wrapping his own around Evan's neck, and hugged him tightly. "I
have missed you too, Caen."
"Hello," Harry whispered, pulling back and offering up a wide smile.
"We have work to do," Evan said calmly, pulling out of the embrace completely. He
kept his hand on Harry's shoulder though, as the boy led him further into the forest
and asked him to apparate them to Hogsmeade.
"There's a cave just outside of the town. Some of the people living there told me that
food and newspapers keep disappearing and that they can hear someone moving
around near the cave. I checked, father, but no one lives nearby, there doesn't
appear to be any animal dens large enough to make that kind of attention drawing
noise, and it's not exactly a hospitable area."
"So, either a dragon has hatched and is hiding in this cave, or the rat has gone back
to his roots."
"Well, if you spend too long in your animagus form you start to pick up the creature's
traits." Harry offered a smile, "such as foraging, scurrying, hiding, squeaking, you
know, all of those really annoying rat-habits."
"Being a disgusting, worthless waste of flesh?" Evan offered, reaching out his arm.
Harry clung to it, focusing on Evan and Evan alone, and then with the feeling of
being squeezed through a tube, they both disappeared from the Forbidden Forest.
They reappeared in front of a dank looking cave. Newspapers and food wrappers
were scattered across the floor, there was a sock by the entrance, and the stink of
urine filled the air. It was apparent that someone human really was living there.
"Well?" Harry asked.
"Well done, child. Let us gather our 'evidence' and leave." Evan led the way into the
cave.

"Are you going to cast the Dark Mark?" Harry asked curiously, listening for breathing
other than their own. "Cause that might be cool."
"No." Evan told them, throwing him a sideways glance. Harry rolled his eyes, a little
annoyed that Evan hadn't just gone along with his joke, because at the mention of
the Dark Mark someone deep within the cave had gasped.
"I'm sure our Lord would appreciate the gesture, Rosier," Harry added, smirking
widely at the suddenly stronger stench of piss that flooded the cave. Peter Pettigrew
was scared.
And so he should be.
XXX
1 " Ishtar, the pagan name for Easter. It's celebrated on the first Sunday after the first
full moon after the spring equinox, and is in honour of the 'son' of the Sun god, Baal,
and Ishtar his mother who claimed that she was a goddess with the help of Satan
the deceiver. Pig was to be eaten on the Sunday only, as the pig killed the son of
god, Tammunz, but no other meat could be touched, and rabbits and eggs were
used to celebrate as well. Random, I know.
Thanks for reading. For those who don't know, Through the Looking Glass has
been added (though no one seems to like chapter 2 as much as chapter 1 hmm).

Chapter 37
Thanks for reading. I hope Sirius' presence makes sense to everyone now! Let me
know what you think, and I'll hopefully see you soon for the next chapter (once I
figure out what exactly is going down).
Words: 4,026
Chapter 37
April 16th 1994. Ministry of Magic.
The Ministry was quieter than Harry had thought it would be. A handful of employees
stopped to stare at him as he passed by, there were two journalists waiting outside
of the courtroom for him, but aside from that Harry didn't see anyone around. It must
have been the quietest the Ministry had ever been! Upon opening the doors to
Courtroom Ten, Harry suddenly understood why the building was so empty. It looked
as if over half of the British Wizarding population had squeezed their way inside of
the courtroom, huddled and bundles on top of each other, pointing and gasping as
Harry walking inside to take his seat in the witness stand, and then again as Sirius
Black was escorted onto the dock.
Draco waited in the crowd, with his parents and Evan. Harry didn't recognize any of
the other endless faces in the crowd, well, except for Severus and Remus. They
waited in the front pew, and despite having already been called to give evidence,
they were still silent and attentive, a far cry from the disruptive audience.
"Order!" Amelia Bones cried. She was seated next to Minister Fudge with Kingsley
Shacklebolt on her other side. Harry vaguely recognized the dark skinned man as
having been one of the two Aurors to let a troll loose in Hogwarts in his first year. He
wondered who this man was, how important he was, and whether he would be here
to keep Harry away from Sirius or to see justice met.
Sirius looked as gaunt and pale as he did the last time they had met, the only other
time they had met, but he smiled widely as he caught his godson's eyes.
"Harry James Potter, please rise," Bones ordered. She stood as well, staring down
over her bench at the teenager who shook nervously under her gaze. "Let's
proceed."
"Who is this man?" Fudge interrupted, pointing to the other side of the courtroom, to
a figure Harry hadn't noticed.

Peter was cowering in his chair, guarded on either side by a Dementor. One floated
towards Harry, stopping directly in front of where Harry was seated before reaching
out to cup the child's face. He turned Harry's head towards his covered face and
whispered, "Ours? Danger? Them?"
"He's the only one in danger here," Harry murmured back, nodding his head at the
portly man who still wore his piss-stained trousers, with an Azkaban robe thrown
over the top. He turned back to Amelia Bones, ignoring the fact that Fudge had
spoken. "He is Peter Pettigrew, former friend of my father's and the Secret Keeper to
the house at Godric's Hollow."
"Yes," Kingsley whispered, remembering the man from the old Order meetings, from
before the Potters' had died. "Yes, he is." Bones nodded her head, once at Harry
and once at her colleague, and then turned back to Peter.
He wasn't made to move seats, even though Harry was escorted to the front pew to
sit beside Remus and Snape. Instead, the Dementor that had remained beside him
floated to the left, allowing Peter to focus himself as Bones and Fudge questioned
him. The other Dementor was hovering beside Harry and those sitting behind him
and beside him tried desperately to shift out of the way. Severus' hands shook and
his knuckles were pure white, but he stubbornly refused to allow Remus to push him
sideways. He was determined to be close enough to defend Lily's son if need be, the
way he always had before. Black eyes darted back and forth between the Dementor
and the teenager, but Harry neither looked afraid or cautious, and the Dementor
appeared to be anything but threatening. He turned away then, glancing back at the
spineless coward who had helped Voldemort kill the only woman he had ever loved.
Pettigrew, of all people. Pettigrew. Severus hadn't thought the man had it in him.
"Did you, or did you not, betray Lily and James Potter to the Dark Lord, he-WhoMust-Not-Be-Named?" Fudge asked, jaw clenching at the thought of having to
mention Voldemort by name. But the Veritaserum had always worked before when
they had used Voldemort's moniker's, so there was no reason to believe that it
wouldn't now.
"No. I did not betray." Came Peter's monotone response, two minutes after an Auror
forced three drops of the potion onto his tongue, and thirty seconds after the
question was asked.
The entire courtroom gasped. Sirius looked ready to shuck off his restraints and
strangle Peter with his bare hands. Harry's eyes narrowed. Correctly, Peter hadn't
betrayed his parents. You could only betray the one you side with, and his parents
hadn't been that side. If anything, he had inadvertently betrayed Voldemort, as his

Secret led to Voldemort's temporary death. Kingsley seemed to be having similar

thoughts, because his forehead was creased and he was gazing calculatingly at the
gormless prisoner.
"Did you tell Lord Voldemort the Secret?"1 He asked, his voice loud and echoing,
and it pulled more horrified gasps from those in the audience.
"Yes." It was simple, clear and everyone heard it.
"Did you accompany Lord Voldemort to Godric's Hollow on the 31st October 1981?"
Kingsley continued.
"No."
"Why not?" Peter didn't answer. "Did you wait somewhere else?"
"Yes."
"Once He disappeared, did you see anybody?"
"Yes."
"Was that somebody Sirius Black?"
"Yes."
"Did you kill thirteen people and frame Sirius Black for their deaths?" Sirius leant
forward, handing off the edge of his seat as he waited for the response. The
shackles dug into his wrists from the added distance, but he didn't care. He needed
to hear what Peter said, even though he already knew the truth.
"No." Peter paused, a frown coming over his mouth. "And yes."
"No? To the first or the second?"
"First."
"So you did frame Sirius Black?"
"Yes." Peter had begun blinking, his forehead creasing and his lips twitching
between a frown and a smile at a rapid pace. The Veritaserum was wearing off.
Amelia held her hand up as the Auror approached with the potion vial, and he
stepped back into the crowd, allowing the questioning to come to an end.

"Why do you deny killing thirteen people?" With the potion wearing off it wasn't as
effective as it had been earlier. At full strength the potion was a tricky thing,
questions had to be straightforward, preferably with one word answers, or the
accused wouldn't be able to speak at all. But at its weakest, as it was now, Peter
wouldn't have been able to resist telling them everything they wanted to know, every
little detail would spill forth against his will, damning him and liberating Sirius, and
that man had been a good friend to Kingsley once.
"They weren't people. They were Muggles. Scum, filth, waste, worthless, disgusting,
useless, filth, wasteful, horrible, disgusting, vermin, scum," Peter continued to mutter
to himself. Shocked at the vehemence of the response, Kingsley refrained from
asking anything else.
"But you did kill them?" Fudge asked, just to be sure.
Peter turned his head towards the Minister, a grin on his lips, "I did. I did." He
grinned wider as his eyes fell on Sirius, who was practically snarling in his seat. "And
I got away with it too."
Amelia waved her hand again, and both Dementors swept towards Peter. "Take him
back to the holding cell. We will deliberate on his sentence and then call him back.
Sirius Black," she said then, turning away from the once more terrified ex-Gryffindor
and towards the man they had falsely imprisoned. "You are hereby exonerated. The
Ministry apologized for the crime committed against you, the injustice and
irrevocable loss you have suffered, and in the hopes of making amends, we grant
you your title of Lord Black, of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, remove
all evidence of a criminal record having existed in your name, and offer you
compensation reflecting the suffering entailed during your years in Azkaban."
"A hundred Galleons per year in Azkaban," Sirius snorted after the Minister and the
Wizengamot had filed out of the room. Dumbledore hadn't looked once at him during
the trial, but Sirius shook off the uneasy feeling, and pulled his godson into a quick
hug.
Lucius and Evan had disappeared somewhere. Draco was waiting with his mother,
decked out in his Slytherin Quidditch robes, and was glancing around uneasily.
"Harry, I, well," Sirius trailed off, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. Malfoy
had told him his freedom was contingent on this, not that Sirius wouldn't have offered
anyway. Harry was his godson, after all. But if he didn't offer, Malfoy saw no point in
him walking free. Sirius snorted again, feeling stupid for thinking that anyone would
help him out of the goodness of their hearts, especially a Slytherin. Whatever Lucius

Malfoy was up to wouldn't bode well, but at least he got Harry and his freedom for as
long as they lasted.
"Come live with me!" Sirius burst out.
He said the words so fast that Harry didn't actually catch them, but then Narcissa
was standing beside him, holding out a roll of parchment with a small smile on her
face.
"Cousin. Harry." She greeted them both calmly and waited.
Harry unrolled the parchment, eyes widening as he skim read over the adoption
papers. He noted with amusement that they referred to the magical world only, so
while Sirius would be his father until he turned twenty-one in the Wizarding World,
Evan would continue to be his father during the summers, when he was forced to
live in the Muggle world. Harry almost refused to sign the parchment. He hardly
knew Sirius. The man might have been family, but they had met one time, not
including during the trial, and the man was on the opposite side of Lord Voldemort.
But then he saw the signature, scrawled on a dotted line in the bottom left corner:
Vernon Dursley. Beside it, beside the words 'in witness' was Lucius' signature.
Narcissa's was in the bottom right hand corner, below the empty line that was meant
for Sirius to sign.
So this was why Death Eaters had freed Sirius Black. There were no nefarious
plans. Sirius wasn't a Death Eater and Lucius hadn't turned traitor (not that Harry
had ever considered that, but it had been speculated about in the papers).
Evan had been trying to find him somewhere to live.
Harry thought back to the god in his aunt's garden, attempting to dig up the body of
his uncle, and he closed his eyes. He was partly relieved because it meant no more
Petunia, or Dudley, or having Evan be forced to take Polyjuice day after day. But one
the other hand, did that mean he'd never see his father again (his real father, not
Sirius, never Sirius), or Lucius, or spend Yule at Malfoy Manor, or live with Theodore
anymore?
"I want to see my friends. I want to spend some of the summer at their houses, or
have them visit me, or go to Diagon Alley and meet up with them whenever I like. I
won't be a prisoner." Harry whispered. He had been aiming to sound angry and
determined so that Sirius would know to take him seriously, but in the end he had
sounded like a child whose world was turning upside down again.
"You won't be. I promise. I promise. Is that a yes?" Sirius grabbed Harry again,

hugging him tightly, even as he reached out over the child's head to take the quill
from Narcissa and sign his name on the dotted line.
Narcissa took the parchment, tucking it into her robe pocket. "Come Draco, your
father had gone to speak with the Minister." Harry didn't believe that for a second:
Lucius was up to something if Evan had left with him. "We should return you to
Hogwarts."
She pushed open the doors to the courtroom and stepped outside. A small scream
left her lips as a rat darted through her legs and took off down the corridor. Harry ran
forward, glancing at the rat and then back the way it had come from and took off
running. He rounded three corners before he found the one Aurors lying on the floor,
and the two Dementors standing over him. As far as anyone in the Ministry would be
able to guess the Dementors had turned on the Auror for some reason or other,
taking his soul, and in the confusion Peter had managed to escape. Lucius wasn't in
sight. Perhaps he really was speaking to Cornelius Fudge. But floating around the
second Dementor's head was a brown butterfly with green patches on its wings.
XXX
June 6th 1994. Hogwarts.
The exams had started. Today was Harry's first exam of his third year. Next year, at
this time, he would be beginning his mock OWL's, and the year after his real ones.
Though everyone around him was studying furiously, cramming for the test that
waited just an hour away, Harry was glancing calmly down at the note that had just
been dropped into his breakfast. Hedwig hurried away, not stopping to steal food.
Our Lord has use for him yet, was all the note read. With a quick swish of his
wand, Harry set the note aflame. It curled and burned, the dust falling into his
porridge, and Harry glanced down at it with a frown before deciding to forgo
breakfast this morning and instead cram for his Transfiguration exam.
XXX
June 19th 1994. Privet Drive.
It had taken her years, but finally Petunia had saved up enough money to afford a
landscaper. The small caf that she slaved away in five days a week was the bane
of her existence, on the list with her perfect sister Lily, her freakish nephew Harry,
and the detrimental effect magic had had on her previously wonderful husband
Vernon. But that small caf also paid her five-forty-five an hour, and Petunia had
tucked enough away after buying food for herself and Dudley, and clothes, and other

essentials that this new Vernon refused to pay for. She now had enough to start work
on the perfect garden she had always wanted. Harry should have been doing all the
grunt work for her, but ever since the boy turned eight Vernon wouldn't let him do
chores anymore. Dudley was too delicate for this type of work, and as an
upstanding, classy women Petunia certainly wasn't going to go digging through the
dirt.
There was a man in her garden, perfectly normal and magic-free, and she was
paying him a flat fee of 150 per day.2 Petunia watched him through the window,
narrowing her eyes as he sat back on his heels to take a long drink of water. She
scowled heavily; she wasn't paying him to sit on his arse and do nothing, so she
banged loudly on the window. The man turned to smile at her over his shoulder,
though it looked more like a strained grimace than the polite smile he was aiming for.
He continued digging.
Petunia wanted a pond, and a wider path leading to the backdoor, and a mound of
rocks and plants in the corner, and climbing roses and ivy along the fence that
neighboured number 2, because she didn't like that neighbour so oh well if the plants
grew into her garden too. The man had already been working for two days, digging
out other plots of dirt, and beginning to cultivate the plants, but today he reached the
six foot mark.
His shovel struck Vernon's body, just as Evan Rosier walking into the house.
Evan wasn't Polyjuiced. He wasn't even dressed as a Muggle today. He was sick of
pretending, and he had been watching Petunia since Sirius' trial, knowing what she
had planned for her garden and waiting to see if she would ever go ahead.
Legilimency was a wonderful, handy thing to know, Evan thought to himself, just as
the Muggle in the garden begun screaming.
Petunia ran out to him, screaming twice as loudly, as her husband's preserved face
looked up at her, pale and bald. With the spell on him, Vernon was frozen in time.
His hair and nails didn't grow in death as they were meant to, and he didn't rot, but
Evan had tucked any leftover hair of Vernon's into the fridge last night, shoved at the
bottom of a half-used bag of flour that Petunia had used several times already. The
Death Eater raised his wand, not waiting until Petunia noticed him to cast the
Imperious curse on her Muggle landscaper.
"You saw her kill him. You were digging the hole to bury him. You were going to put
the pond over him, so that no one would ever find him." Evan whispered, smiling
proudly as the Muggle repeated everything slowly out loud, before turning to

Petunia.
"I watched you kill him. I need to ring the police now, excuse me." He pushed his
way passed the hysterical widow, ignoring her cries and wails.
"No," Petunia hissed suddenly, calming down almost at once as a thought struck her.
Vernon had been in Harry's room last night, and this morning before she had gone to
work, because Petunia had checked in on him only to run crying from the room as
Vernon threw the alarm clock at her. This wasn't her husband in the ground. Or the
man in her house wasn't her husband. Either way this was Harry's fault.
"No," she told the policeman who came to question her. His colleagues were outside
with the mortician and the EMT people. "My nephew did this," she told them, as the
butterfly watched her from the top of the policeman's hat. "Vernon went out of the
country last summer, but he came back last night. We had dinner together," she
added, though that was a bit of a stretch. Evan had eaten. Petunia and Dudley had
cowered nervously in the back of the kitchen and watched him. "He was in bed when
I left for work this morning. My nephew did this. He'd a freak, you know," she was
starting to sound calmer, colder, and the policeman put it down to the shock setting
in, or the guilt, but really Petunia was just imaging drowning Harry in a bucket of
water the night she found him. Like she should have done.
"It's those freaks' faults. If they hadn't of left him here when his parents got blown up
this wouldn't have happened. My Vernon would still be here, those magic freaks
wouldn't even know I existed if it wasn't for my freak nephew."
"Magic?" The policeman laughed, raising his eyebrows at the serious way Petunia
had used the word.
"He's a Wizard. He goes to Wizard school. The Wizard government came here over
the summer, just talk to them; they'll tell you this is my nephew's fault." Petunia
wrung her hands together, in front of her stomach, and she glanced down at them,
shocked to see bruises across her fingers and arms from where Vernon had
manhandled her after dinner last night. To the policeman, it looked as if Vernon had
fought back when Petunia killed him. No one thought to question how Petunia, being
so slight, would have been able to strangle someone like Vernon, not even after the
coroner shouted out the cause of death.
A second officer, a woman, came running out of the kitchen with a bun in her hand.
Her face was twisted in disgust and she thrust it towards the man interviewing
Petunia. "There's hair in this. There's a whole bag of hair in the flour in the fridge too,
Deeks found it earlier. What was she going to do, cook him piece by piece before

that guy started burying him?" She dropped the bun onto the floor, and turned back
to head inside.
Petunia picked it up slowly. She had baked these this morning, they had been ready
just as she left for work, but she didn't remember hair being in her flour. She pulled
one strand, and a ball of hair broke free of the cake, dropping crumbs all around her.
It was the colour of Vernon's hair, and Petunia clutched it in the palm of her hand as
she stared at the bald head of her dead husband. "This is Harry's fault. He did this,"
she whispered again.
"She did it!" The landscaper screamed. He was pointing at Petunia through the
window, talking to another policeman in the kitchen, and at his words handcuffs
slapped over Petunia's wrists, and the half-eaten bun fell back to the ground.
"You're under arrest on suspicion of murdering Vernon Dursley."
When Dudley came home, his grandparents were waiting for him, and his mother
was awaiting trial. Evan waited just long enough to watch the shattered expression
cross Dudley's face as Anthony Evans told him that they'd take care of him now, and
Maura Evans told him Petunia had murdered his father. Once Dudley had collapsed,
sobbing in his grandmother's arms, the butterfly swept out of the open window, and
winged his way through the sky until he was far enough away to apparate. Then,
Evan Rosier returned to Malfoy Manor. Lord Voldemort was finished with him for the
summer.
XXX
June 18th 1994. Kings Cross.
When Harry stepped off the Hogwarts Express, he instinctively walked towards
Lucius Malfoy. Beside him, Tennyson Alfred waited, having thrown away the disguise
of Vernon Dursley in favour of a mask that had always been his. Theodore Nott
walked towards them, followed by Draco, each tugging their luggage in their wake.
Harry stayed frozen to the spot. He had no reason to go home with Evan Rosier
now. There was no more Vernon Dursley; Dumbledore had called Harry to his office
the day of his last exam to explain slowly and patiently, as if Harry were incapable of
understanding, that his uncle was now dead. Murdered. As if Harry hadn't already
known.
There was no more Privet Drive, or sharing a bed with Evan at night, or chasing a
butterfly across the room while terrifying Dudley in the process. Theo wouldn't be
living with him; he'd be living with his new guardian, Tennyson, the secret magical
friend of Vernon's who had left guardianship of his wards to. But Harry had an

adoptive father now. Sirius Black. There was no chance of him being shipped to his
grandparent's like Dumbledore probably wanted, or to some other hapless Muggle,
or an orphanage. He'd be going home with his pureblooded godfather every summer
from now on.
"Hey kiddo," Sirius said, walking towards him when Harry made no further
movements.
The dark haired teenager allowed Sirius to pull him into a hug, watching sadly as
Lucius left with Draco first, and then Evan tugged Theo towards the exit of Platform
nine and three-quarters. Sirius led him towards the Weasley family, all of whom were
waiting for him, and Remus, who reached out to pluck Harry's luggage from his limp
grip.
"You excited, Harry?" Remus asked, smiling widely. "We'll be staying in the same
house this summer, you, Sirius and I. Though, I'm sure the Weasleys will be visiting."
"Oh goody," Harry murmured. Fred and George heard him, and they grinned widely,
before nudging Ron forcefully. The redhead nearly fell on top of Harry, and the
teenager scowled. "Can we just leave, please?" He asked, turning in Sirius' hold to
look up at the man pleadingly.
The Weasleys left first, all of them heading out of the train station. Apparently Arthur
had a car waiting outside. Sirius handed Harry a slip of paper and a sock. Remus
and Sirius kept a finger each on the sock, and Harry correctly guessed that it was a
Portkey. As he read the one sentence on the slip of paper, the Portkey activated,
pulling them out of the Wizarding World and dumping them on the doorstep of a dirty,
dark looking house in the middle of London.
Harry Potter lives at Number 12, Grimmauld Place. 3
XXX
I hate court scenes. And no, this isn't how a real court acts... But, meh, when has the
Wizarding World been normal!
1 " In Deathly Hallows, Kingsley was nearly caught by Snatchers for using
'Voldemort'... As part of the Order, who's to say he didn't use the name before as
well?
2 " According to Google, that's what it costs. You could do it in one instalment based
on the labour either, estimated between 1-2,000.

3- It isn't Order headquarters yet, not until next summer per canon, but it's very
doubtful Sirius or Dumbledore would let Harry live outside of the blood wards without
some protection. Fidelius it is.
Just a thought, but not once did anyone ask me why Peter was caught. He was in
the prologue... I was expecting a bit of abuse over the apparent plothole there lol. Oh
well. Thanks for reading. Through the Looking Glass was just updated as well, if
you're interested. Review?

Chapter 38
Hey all. My thesis is done, but I won't know how I did until the end of October, lame!
However, I'm absolutely exhausted. Working full time doesn't agree with me... I have
all of year 4 planned out, and I will finish the story, I will, but I can't promise how fast
I'll be about it!
I hate this chapter. I think I've lost my touch :/
WARNING: minor, minor, minor LM/HP slash, and insinuations of twincest.
Words: 3,321
Chapter 38
June 25th 1994. Grimmauld Place.
School finished 7 days ago, and Harry had yet to hear from his friends or father.
Instead, he was stuck in the Black ancestral home with his godfather who meant well
and his old professor who was convinced he had some sort of anti-social
behavioural problem.
Harry rolled his eyes, stirring the spoon in his cup of tea, remembering the second
day he had spent at Grimmauld Place and how Remus had insisted that there must
have been something wrong with Harry's home life for the boy to be avoiding them
so much. Sirius seemed to know what it was like to want to be anywhere but with
your guardians, he had run away from home after all, but when Remus lectured the
taller man easily took his friends' side: anything to convince Harry to stay with them.
Anything to keep his godson with him.
"Harry?" a voice called from the hallway. Harry sighed heavily, placing his tea back
down on the counter. Half of him wondered if he could hide under the table and not
be seen, but the other half, the more logical half, pointed out that the werewolf
already knew he was in there, he could smell him, there was nowhere to hide.
"In here, Remus." Harry leant back in his chair, lounging in what he hoped was a
carefree manner. His insides were twisted into knots, and his fingers shook even as
they squeezed the arm rests of his chair. Remus was staring at him intently as he
entered the kitchen, Sirius in tow, and Harry resisted the urge to shrink back into the
chair.
"What now?" He hissed instead, thoroughly sick of their 'interventions'. Where were

they when he really did need help? When Vernon hit him, or burned him, or pinned
him to the ground with his trousers off? Where were they then, where were they
before he had Evan?
"We're worried about you, Harry," Sirius started, though he was frowning as if he
wasn't sure he should be worried. Harry figured he was probably just saying what
Remus told him to. Harry couldn't fault the man, he was only doing what Lucius had
asked, taking care of Harry, and he was lonely and afraid, desperate not to lose the
last link to his old family. Remus, Harry recognized, was trying to make up for
something: guilt at abandoning him perhaps, at believing Sirius to be a murderer,
redeeming himself in his own eyes by helping Harry overcome his childhood abuse,
because after all his aunt was a murderer. Who knew what else she might have
done, to Harry? But that didn't make these talks any less annoying or painful.
"You don't need to be. I'm fine, Sirius. Remus is just suffering from multiple paranoid
delusions. If he actually cared about me he wouldn't have made him scarce after my
parents' deaths. You were in prison, what was his excuse?" Harry turned to cast a
dirty look in Remus' direction before he pushed passed Sirius.
The adults watched him leave the kitchen, glancing from Harry's back to each other
and back again. "You want to tell him you invited the Weasleys over or leave it till he
calms down?" Sirius asked, the corner of his lips curving up slightly.
"Why can't you?"
"You invited them. It's only fair if you get the blame as well!" Sirius pointed out,
nudging his friend's shoulder with a fist before following Harry from the kitchen.
Remus rolled his eyes, following his childhood friend.
They wouldn't actually need to tell Harry the Weasleys were coming over, because
the red headed family tumbled out of the fireplace one after the other as Harry
entered the living room. Sirius and Remus weren't far behind him, but they were far
enough away that they weren't able to stop Harry from jumping into the open floo
once it was clear. With two words and a whirl of green fire, Harry was gone.
He landed in the atrium of Malfoy Manor, stumbling painfully out of the fireplace, his
hands scrambling at the walls as he tried to keep his balance. He waited for a few
minutes, frowning to himself as more time went by without anyone coming to see
who had come through the floo.
"Fine," Harry muttered to himself, heading out of the atrium. If they didn't want to
come for him, he'd go to them. It wouldn't make that much of a difference anyway.

The living room was empty, the bedrooms were empty, Merlin even the kitchen was
empty minus the handful of trembling house elves. Harry finally resorted to using the
point me spell, pointing his wand at the window in case everybody was for some
reason on the Quidditch pitch, but the wand just kept spinning, around and around.
With tears in his eyes, Harry made his way to the bedroom that had been his since
he had first met Draco. It was stupid to cry, he told himself: why was he expecting
everyone to be at home, sitting around waiting for him. Just because he sat around
waiting for owls that never came didn't mean that everybody else's life was as
pathetic as his own. Curling up in the middle of his bed, Harry told himself not to cry,
but the tears fell anyway.
XXX
July 1st 1994. Diagon Alley.
Theodore Nott waved from the table outside of Florescue's. Harry felt a smile stretch
over his mouth, lips quirked up and cheeks flushing in excitement. He hadn't seen
his friends in forever, and there they were, just ahead of him, just through the light
crowd of people in the Alley. Theo had written to him, inviting him out with Draco and
himself, and Harry had immediately demanded permission from Sirius to go. The
Lord Black hadn't even protested about Harry going out on his own, or meeting with
'junior death eaters' as some of Sirius' friends called them. The man was pretty laid
back about Harry seeing his friends, as long as Harry promised to come back at a
reasonable time and not run away.
Harry finally cleared the crowd in front of him and stopped dead. "Where's Draco?"
Harry asked, frowning heavily as he slip into the chair beside Theo.
"His father wanted him to have duelling lessons this summer," Theodore said with a
shrug. "Draco, kind of, forgot that the lesson clashed with us meeting you today. I did
remind him, but you know Draco and his perfectionism. Anything to impress his
father."
"Yeah," Harry whispered. He looked around the Alley, feeling awkward and hurt.
Theo opened his mouth, but fortunately a waitress appeared at the same time,
bringing Theo's ice cream and taking Harry's order. "So, uh," he began, waiting until
the waitress left the second time before speaking, "I came to the Manor the other
day. Where were you all?"
Theo looked a little uncomfortable, rubbing at the back of his head with his free hand
and shovelling ice cream into his mouth with the other, delaying his response. "Mr
Malfoy's cousin threw a party or something in France. Draco invited me, and Evan

went as well and well..." Theo rubbed his mouth, lowering his eyes so he wouldn't
have to look at Harry as he spoke. "We didn't invite you because they didn't want
Black or Lupin going.1 Sorry!"
Harry's eyes flew wide open, and the spoon he was holding dropped onto the table
but Theo still wouldn't look up at him. "Oh," he said eventually.
"You ok?" the other boy mumbled, fiddling with his napkin.
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Harry pushed his ice cream away, no longer hungry. He
couldn't look at Theodore without his heart feeling like it was being squeezed in his
chest, and he couldn't think of Lucius or Evan purposely not inviting him somewhere
without the breath catching in his throat. Didn't they love him anymore? "We should
probably buy our school things!" He said, hurriedly pulling himself out of his chair. He
was out of Theo's sight by the time the boy fumbled to his feet, and the Slytherin
chased after his friend feeling terrible at the stricken expression Harry had been
wearing as he left.
XXX
July 12th 1994.
"What's the matter Harry?" Fred Weasley asked, sitting down on the edge of Harry's
unmade bed. The boy was curled in the middle of it, with a pillow over his face. He
looked rather pitiful, and the twins looked at each other and grinned.
"How can we help?" George asked, as he moved to sit on the other side of the bed.
"I want to go out, but I can't get near the fireplace or the front door. That stupid
portrait wakes up or Ginny or Ron notices me before I can get out of here."
"You don't like it here, do you?" Fred asked. He reached out to run his fingers
through Harry's hair, and the boy turned into his touch, allowing Fred to pet him and
comfort him, as George lent over to rub circled on his back.
"I feel like I'm trapped. My friends are living their lives and having fun and being
together and I'm being left behind and forgotten. Hermione can't visit because the
stupid Blacks put stupid wards up that only let people with magical parents come
inside and Draco and Lucius have better things to do and Theo is stealing my dad
and there's nothing I can do about it."
The twins ignored the mention of a dad, choosing instead to pull Harry into George's
lap while Fred leant up against his back. They hugged him tightly, whispering against

his ear. "We're here. You aren't forgotten or alone, Harry. You have us."
"Thanks." Harry said, sniffling lightly.
He felt so stupid, but after half of the summer passing without his friends making any
sort of effort it left him feeling off kilter and vulnerable. He was half tempted to kiss
one of the twins, to stick it to Lucius who hadn't even written to him this summer
even though the man was constantly seen out and about by the Daily Prophet yet
had no time for Harry. Or he could make them his new best friends and tell Draco
and Theo where to go. But what about Evan? No one could replace Evan, or Lucius,
or Draco, or Theo if Harry was willing to admit it to himself. He loved them. Only
them. They were his family, and he was lost without them. He wondered, briefly, if
this was how Sirius and Remus felt when the Potters had died. For a moment he
empathised with them, felt the desolation thy must have felt, the hopelessness, the
longing, and then he pushed it all away along with the twins.
Pulling out of their joint embrace, Harry crawled off the bed. He didn't want to think
about Fred or George, or how he had thought about kissing them to spite Lucius
because it would be pointless and painful and it wasn't what he wanted anyway. He
didn't want to use them to replace his friends, because the twins were sort of his
friends anyway and people weren't interchangeable.
"I'm ok now guys, thanks though." Harry rubbed at his eyes, pushing his glasses up
and out of the way. "But I'd really appreciate it if you'd help me sneak out of here."
"No problem," Fred said grinning.
"Happy to help."
Once the twins started to blow stuff up, Harry found that it was rather easy to sneak
out without anybody noticing him go. He arrived, once more, in Malfoy Manor's
atrium, but this time Lucius was waiting for him. The man had a hand raised, green
powder trickling from between his fingers. With a soft smile, the blond dropped the
floo powder back into the bowl and lowered his arm silently.
"You've been avoiding me," Harry told him, scowling and climbing out of the
fireplace, "I'm angry with you." He was anything but, but Harry wasn't going to tell the
man that. His heart beat louder, his breath came faster, and unconsciously he tilted
his chin up waiting for Lucius to kiss him.
"I've been putting things in motion. It was unavoidable, but now, unfortunately, you
won't be rid of me for the remainder of the summer holidays, beloved." Lucius
drawled, taking three steps forward so that he could snake an arm around Harry's

narrow waist.
"What is it?" Harry asked curiously. He tilted his head higher, lips forming into a pout
and his eyes fluttered shut as lips descended upon his.
"It's a surprise, but you'll love it. You'll find out soon, beloved. Now, hush, more
kissing, less talking." And they were kissing again, Harry laughing softly into Lucius'
mouth, as his hands pulled at blond hair. His legs were up around Lucius' waist, and
the man carried him out of the atrium and through the manor. Neither cared who
might see them, for they were in the privacy of Lucius' home, surrounded by family.
But Severus Snape had tired of waiting for Lucius' floo call and had come to visit. He
stood in the abandoned atrium, eyes wide and mouth open as Lucius and Harry
remained joined at the mouth, hands fumbling and squeezing, both panting heavily,
until they disappeared out of sight. Snape narrowed his eyes in thought,
contemplated interrupting them, but then dismissed the notion. He had no idea what
was going on, whether Lucius had planned something, or if this was Harry's doing,
or even if somehow a marriage contract had been created between the two families.
He couldn't act until he knew what he was acting on, after all. He was a Slytherin:
Slytherins waited and plotted. Only Gryffindors rushed in.
XXX
July 31st 1994. Grimmauld Place.
Order of the Phoenix members wondered through the Black home, drinking and
laughing, some carrying plates filled with cake and chocolates. Harry watched them
from the top of the stairs, scribbling hurriedly on a piece of parchment, taking down
every name he had overheard or been introduced to. It was only when the fire place
flared to life and Draco Malfoy stepped gracefully out of it that Harry rolled up the
parchment and tucked it away.
It was his birthday party. Sirius had insisted, and the place was beautifully decorated
and the food was amazing and loads of people had brought presents, but none of
those people were Harry's friends. But now Draco had arrived, and Lucius had
appeared behind him, one hand on his snake-headed cane and the other on his
son's shoulder, and Harry pushed through the crowd of gaping Light-sided people to
throw himself at Draco.
"I've missed you," Harry whispered against Draco's pale cheek, glancing up then to
catch Lucius' eyes and mouth the words again. "How'd the duelling lessons go?"
"Very well. I finished with distinctions." Draco told him, offering a haughty sneer to

the closest Wizard to them.

"Well I'm glad," Harry told him, hugging him tighter for a second longer before letting
go. And he was glad: he had been half determined to ignore Draco the next time he
saw him, but Draco was his friend, and the boy only wanted to do well at his
schooling and lessons, and that was no different to Harry ignoring Quidditch patches
and parties to study in the Hogwarts library. Only, during the summer Harry was
alone, and Draco had Theo, Evan and his parents in the same house. It sucked a
little, but Draco was a good friend most of the time, and that required a little
selflessness from Harry on occasion.
"Happy birthday."
"Thanks. Want some cake?" Harry dragged both Lucius and Draco into the kitchen,
the rest of the party watching them stupidly.
"What's Malfoy doing here?" Ron hollered red in the face.
Four hours later, Ron was still asking the same question, but still nobody had given
him a response. No one had been expecting the two blonds to arrive, but Sirius
supposed he should have guessed. The Nott boy had been appearing unexpectedly
over the past week, and even Malfoy Sr. had turned up once without an invitation, so
of course they knew where Harry lived, and as Harry didn't view them as a threat,
and they had made no move to attack Sirius the house's owner the wards hadn't
kept them out.
"Where are the Malfoys anyway?" Sirius asked, glancing around the room.
"Draco left, I saw him going into the floo ten minutes ago. Mr Malfoy must have gone
ahead." Fred and George glanced at each other, wondering whether they should
correct Ginny's statement. The twins had seen Lucius Malfoy heading upstairs, with
Harry Potter trailing behind him. In the end they decided to keep quiet, but they
pulled a string from their pocket with a strange looking globe hanging off the end,
and they too made their way up the rickety staircase in search of a different kind of
entertainment.
"Think we'll hear anything, brother?"
"Why, Fred, are you planning to perv on poor, innocent Harry?"
"Innocent my arse, George! He brought Malfoy into his bedroom and locked the
door!"

"They could be... talking?" George suggested, but they both laughed almost
immediately after the words were out of his mouth.
They held up the prototype of something they had been working on. The globe was
meant to be an ear, but it wasn't quite finished yet. Nonetheless, the boys hoped that
it would work as well as they had imagined. Fred pushed the string into the key hole
and held the globe up to his ear. George leant in close to him, getting as close to the
globe as he could manage with his face pressed against his brother's. Fred tapped
the string with his wand, and the spell activated just in time for them to hear Harry
moan out Lucius' name before gasping loudly, followed by Lucius groaning in
orgasm. They could imagine them both, the younger one pressed to the mattress
with Lucius over him, doing things to him, kissing and petting and touching. Fred
pulled away first, panting lightly and palming the tent in the front of his trousers.
George kept listening, only pulling away once he heard Harry whisper 'I love you',
not wanting to intrude on something that private. There were lines you didn't cross
after all.
"Wish I was a fly on that wall." Fred moaned, still palming himself.
George grinned lasciviously, casting a brief glance down at his own groin. "Need a
hand with that, bro?" He asked, licking his lips and arching his eyebrows up.
"Thought you'd never ask!" Fred hopped to his feet, reaching out to grab his twin's
hand.
"Well, the extendable ear works at least!" George commented as Fred dragged him
down the hallway. "Doesn't look much like an ear though."
Inside of the room, Lucius lay his head on Harry's stomach, smiling softly against the
quivering muscles and skin, his tongue flicking out to taste the sweet and the semen.
Harry lay flat on his back, legs spread to accommodate Lucius who was fully
dressed where Harry was completely naked.
"I love you," Harry whispered softly, his hand moving to run through Lucius' hair, a
soft smile on his face as the man above him almost stopped breathing in surprise.
Maybe it was too soon, or maybe it would remind Lucius of how young he was, and
maybe Harry should get up and figure out what the hushed noises outside of his
door were, but all thoughts were pushed out of his mind when Lucius finally spoke.
"I love you also, very much." Lucius pressed a harder kiss to Harry's stomach, just
above the patch of hair that had grown around his sex. Harry smiled one hand still in
Lucius' hair and the other moving to press against his racing heart.

"Good."
XXX
1 " It's happened to me before. It feels like you've been punched in the stomach.
It's no different to what Hermione and Ron did in OotP, so no complaints about how
horrible his friends were being.
Thanks for reading. I'm going to Italy next week :) But before I go my friend is having
a Harry Potter themed house warming party. Excitement!

Chapter 39
I don't want to write anymore. Mostly, cause my first day back off holidays was a
Sunday and happened to be MY Sunday on rotation, so a 13 hour shift = not fun
after two weeks off. I stayed up till 4am reading a book, and then got woken by my
boss by three different phone calls about unnecessary shift. Tired!
But... I got Ralph Fiennes autograph last Friday! Mwahahaaa 3
Words: 4,915
Chapter 39
August 3rd 1994. Little Hangleton.
Harry knew he had to be dreaming, there was no other explanation for it. He was in
a building that he didn't recognize, the hallways cast in shadows with every surface
covered by a layer of dust and dirt. The whole place stank of damp, and Harry got
the feeling that the building had been empty for a long time now. But while he had
never seen the house before, there were things that jumped out at him, strange
things that Harry wished he could put down to being a part of a strange dream. But a
large snake, slithering along at his feet dispelled that hope.
She hissed at him, writhing on the floors, coils twisting and turning as she pushed
herself along in front of him. "Master, nearly there Master. Tell servant to hurry,
hurry servant, hurry. Master, almost there."
Against his will, Harry found his mouth opening and the words escaped him even as
he tried to bite down on his tongue and stop them. He wasn't her master, he didn't
know whose snake she was but she wasn't his, and yet, he addressed her as his
familiar. "Hush, Nagini. Bartemius is going as fast as he can. We must make
allowances for those who are not as adept as ourselves."
Harry frowned, trying to think if he had ever heard of those names before. They
didn't ring any bells, and before he could waste any more time wondering over it,
Harry found his head turning against his will, twisting to the side and tilting
backwards so that he was easily able to gaze up at the horrifically tall, blond man
behind him. No. No that wasn't right, Harry realized with a mental frown. The man
was only an average height. The problem, the weirdest part of the whole situation,
was that Harry was uncommonly small. He glanced at his hands (or rather the child
glanced at his hands, and Harry followed suit unconsciously). They were small,
child-sized hands, uncalloused and pale, almost grey in colour. His child-sized feet

dangled more than a foot above the ground as 'Bartemius' carried him along on his
hip. His robes were plain black, but Harry could make out the child-like pattern of
snitches along the bottom hem.
They came to a stop in an undecorated room. There was a mirror on one wall, and
Harry glimpsed the deformed face that stared back at him, grey and slit-nosed, its
tiny mouth pursed into an almost lipless frown. He was slowly, carefully placed down
into the over large chair in the centre of the room: the only piece of furniture bar the
mirror.
Bartemius stood before him for a moment, before gracefully dropping to his knees.
He kept his head bowed, even as he whispered, "my Lord" with more reverence than
Harry had heard anyone use ever.
And he knew it was no dream. It couldn't be. Somehow, someway, he was in the
current body of Lord Voldemort. How he had attained such a body was of no
consequence for surely he would not remain in this one forever. Rather, Harry
wondered if this was a consequence of his being a Horcrux, or perhaps if this had
something to do with his connection with Tom Riddle from his second year, the other
Horcrux?
When he woke, he wondered if Evan would know. So, Harry wrote him and asked.
XXX
August 14th 1994.
Sirius watched his godson, a half-smile on his face. He knew what the boy was
doing; he had been young once himself and it wasn't as if his parents had approved
of his dalliances either. Not that Sirius didn't approve, mind you, but he'd have rather
Harry be a little more open about this secret lover of his. The bite marks on his neck
were proof enough in their own right, but the soppy smiles that escaped Harry
whenever he received letters from one owl in particular was another gigantic clue.
Not to mention the fact that since his birthday party Harry was constantly sneaking
out whenever he thought no one would notice him gone, then coming back looking
satisfied and relaxed, happier than most people had the right to be.
As long as he was being careful, Sirius thought, watching the door close behind the
Ravenclaw teenager. He was far too young and sexy to be a grandparent, thank you
very much.1
Harry didn't notice his godfather at all. He was too excited by his upcoming date that
nothing but Lucius existed in the world. There was no Remus, with his rules and

disappointment. No Sirius, who meant well but needed to learn to think for himself.
No Draco, whose father Harry was having regular oral sex with. No Narcissa, Lucius'
wife. He had no friends, none, because they weren't involved in this relationship. For
the moment, it was only Lucius and Harry, and Evan's lack of response and his
continued dreams starring at Lord Voldemort weren't even enough to knock him out
of his good mood.
August was turning into the best month of this year, Harry thought to himself as he
flagged down a black cab. Lucius was waiting for him in Muggle London, though
considering the time Lucius was probably already in the restaurant. Harry had gotten
a little behind himself, not by long, just a few minutes late, but he had some serious
problems deciding what to wear. He'd never had dinner in a fancy restaurant before
as part of a date. Sure Evan had taken him out a couple of times before Hogwarts,
but they had gotten dressed together so Harry knew that he was wearing acceptable
clothes. He didn't want to turn up and embarrass Lucius by being underdressed or
overdressed, or late for that matter, and so he shook himself out of his thoughts and
addressed the driver.
His stomach rolled as the cab pulled away from the curb. It wasn't a bad feeling,
Harry considered, even as he rubbed circles on his stomach. In fact, it felt as if there
were hundreds of butterflies inside of him, each of them breaking free from their
cocoons simultaneously and fluttering around excitedly. He had felt it before, of
course, but he had never much considered what it meant. Excitement, desire,
nervousness, anxiety; all emotions that Harry had experienced at one point on each
of his dates with Lucius. But each date turned out brilliantly, enjoyable and
memorable, and they always finished with tender kisses and hesitant touches on
Harry's part while Lucius was confident enough in himself to just take what he
wanted within reason. And Harry loved it, loved him, and he grinned widely as they
pulled up outside of the restaurant and Lucius met him at the cab, pulling open the
door for him and payer the driver before Harry could even reach into his pocket for
money.
"Good afternoon, beloved," Lucius greeted his lips soft and demanding as they
pressed against Harry's own.
"I love you," Harry replied softly once they broke apart, smiling from ear to ear, the
way people in love usually do.
XXX
August 23rd 1994. Grimmauld Place.

Harry thrashed in his bed. There was sweat on his forehead, and along the sides of
his neck, and his eyes were screwed tightly closed as he fought with his sheets,
kicking and flailing. He cried out, green light flashing behind his eyes, and though he
couldn't make himself wake up, though he continued to live through it, he knew it
wasn't real. It was just a dream, one of many he had since his birthday, but this time
he wasn't Lord Voldemort. This time, he was standing helplessly behind an old
Muggle man, who stood terrified and still with a large ring of jangling keys in one
hand and a torch in the other as Bartemius, Nagini and Voldemort looked on at him
as the green light hit.
Harry gasped his way to waking, crying out softly through panted breathes, his eyes
unfocused and wide. Hands clutched at the bed sheets, fingers trembling. And then
he cried out again as two figures leant over him, smiling widely as their mouths
opened, one after the other.
"Harry, mate!" Ron greeted, reaching forward to smack him on the shoulder. Harry
flinched, still disorientated, half expecting Voldemort to level his wand at him next, to
finish him off for spying or snooping or whatever these dreams amounted to.
"We came to invite you to the Quidditch World Cup! Dad got tickets in work off Ludo
Bagman!" Ginny told him excitedly, moving swiftly to sit beside him on the bed.
Harry glanced warily at her, and then Ron, and then back before his eyes darted
around the room scanning every shadow for the child-shaped homunculus that
housed the Dark Lord. He found nothing though and turned back in time to see
Ron's mouth finish moving (though Harry hadn't heard anything he said, his ears still
full of the scream of "Avada Kedavra" and the cry as green light hit) and of Ginny
leaning closer and closer, smiling hopefully. They had obviously asked him
something and taken his silence as consent, because as he recoiled from her
attempted kiss Ron shouted something and Ginny looked devastated, and Harry
wanted to be anywhere but there. How did they get into his room anyway?
He needed to get away...
Ron pointed at him, his face red, with accusations on his lips. But Harry only saw the
raised arm, not noticing the lack of wand in its grip, and panicked. Instead of waiting
for the two words that would end his life, he sprang from the bed, cowardly and
confused and young, but instead of bolting for the door he found himself sprawled
face down in a cemetery. His head ached, his vision swam, and his eyes only
seemed to focus on one thing. The statue of an angel in front of him, the grave
stone, stood upon a base that was engraved with the words "Tom Riddle". Harry
didn't need to turn and see the house, or the snake, or the Death Eater that slowly

approached him to know where he was. He had accidentally apparated to

Voldemort's side, or as close as he could get with the wards in place.
The Death Eater stopped beside him, staring down at Harry's trembling form through
the eye holes in his mask, before the peeled the object from his face. "What are you
doing here, caterpillar?" Evan Rosier asked his voice low and familiar and Harry
gave a soft whimper at the sound of it.
"I was afraid." He admitted in a whisper.
"So you ran to the Dark Lord?" Evan added with a chuckle.
"I ran," the boy said simply, his destination wasn't important, only the escape
mattered. Evan nodded lightly, purposely not pointing out the fact that Harry had
actually apparated, the last time he had done it had been the day Harry ended up on
the roof of his primary school, so they both knew it was possible, but pointing out the
obvious was a bit redundant Evan thought. "I'm his Horcrux."
"You are," Evan agreed, but there was a hint of question in his words.
"Is that why I dream of him?" He looked suddenly like the child he was, wide green
eyes full of fear and confusion, with his fringe hanging in the way, creating that look
of innocence about him, as trembling fingers brushed it back out of the way and his
bottom lip wobbled. "You never wrote back."
"The wards here do not accept owl post. We can write you, but you cannot send a
reply. The owls are unharmed, but the letter incinerates once it crossed the ward
line. Come, inside with you, my son. The time has come... to talk of many things."2
Harry allowed himself a small smile, as he followed his father into Riddle manor, past
the blond Death Eater he had dreamed about too often, and towards the room with
the mirror and the chair where Lord Voldemort was waiting. But before they entered
the room, Harry couldn't resist finishing the quote. He had been far too long since he
and Evan had last quoted at each other. "Of shoes, and ships, and sealing-wax,
of cabbages, and kings, and why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have
wings."2
"Indeed," Evan said with a smile of his own, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards
for a moment.
But then the door opened fully, and a scaled head peeked around the edge, tongue
flicking out and scenting the air as Harry watched her. Lord Voldemort called to him,
voice high pitched and curious, a child-sized hand extended towards his guests and

Harry came forward slowly, reaching out to clasp the offered hand, and instead of
bowing over it he pressed a soft kiss to the back of the hand, the way Lucius always
did to him. Harry had always liked the way he felt when Lucius did that, as if he were
important and special, cherished: Lord Voldemort was far more important, and
special, and Bartemius obviously cherished him from the reverence the man spoke
to him with. Evan thought highly of him too. Lucius also. And so Harry saw nothing
wrong with making Voldemort feel as good about himself, as Lucius did Harry, the
kiss conveying what he hoped was his loyalty and respect.
Evan coughed, and Voldemort arched an eyebrow at him, as Bartemius watched
from the hallway with his mouth hanging open.
"Welcome," Lord Voldemort said, pulling his hand back and gesturing around the
room, "to my home."
"Merry met." Harry greeted, trying not to look and sound as nervous as he felt. The
butterflies were awake again, restless in his stomach, but not in the way they had
been before his date with Lucius. They were wilder now, uneasy, and Harry clenched
his hands at his side, digging his nails into his palms. No one commented on it
though, or his unexpected presence, or the way he had greeted the Dark Lord, even
though Harry suddenly had the feeling that it had been somewhat wrong.
When Lord Voldemort offered him a seat, there was an unusual expression on the
grey face, and Harry had nowhere to sit in the unfurnished room except on the floor
by the Dark Lord's feet.
XXX
August 25th 1994.3 Somewhere in England.
It was the 422nd Quidditch World Cup, and Tennyson Alfred had apparently won ten
tickets at a Ministry of Magic raffle. Apparently, Ludo Bagman had donated them as
a prize in exchange for the Ministry paying off one of his many substantial debts. It
seemed fair enough, considering no body in their right mind would buy ten tickets to
the Minister's Box, it would be scandalously expensive, and most people only
needed three or four tickets anyway! It was also all rather last minute and the
majority of families who could afford the tickets already had purchased some of their
own. It was a good deal for Ludo Bagman and for Evan Rosier, but apparently not so
good for the Weasley family.
As Lucius steered the six of them passed the Muggles who owned the campsite,
they glimpsed Arthur Weasley arguing futilely with two of the Aurors who were
supposed to be collecting tickets. Harry frowned at them, the gathered family of

redheads, and the two blonds who stood beside them, with the group but not really
included at the same time.
"What's going on?" Draco asked, straining his neck in the most Pureblooded way he
could manage to see over the crowd. Narcissa tsked at him, her nose scrunched up
in distaste as she glanced around at the insane amount of people gathered together,
packed into the campsite like sardines in a tin.
Theodore shrugged. He had invited Terrance, but apparently the boy's foster family
had already bought tickets and Terrance was going to stay with them since they had
asked him first. Theo was a little annoyed by his attitude because Evan had only told
them they were going yesterday morning, so it wasn't like he could have invited his
brother any sooner. Hermione had declined the invitation as well, he knew, because
she and her parents had gone to Italy for the last week of the summer. Narcissa,
Lucius and Evan were the accompanying adults, and Draco, Theo and Harry were
more than happy enough to be accompanied to the Quidditch World Cup, because
after all it was the 422nd Quidditch World Cup, the first to be held in England for over
thirty years!
But with the six of them and their invitations being declined, they had ended up with
four spare tickets, which for some reason Evan had refused to sell.
Evan had been half tempted to invite Barty Jr. but after the trouble it took him to
sneak the man out from under Crouch Sr's suspicious watch, the Death Eater wasn't
too keen for the blond to be captured and placed under house arrest again. But he
wasn't going to give away the four tickets, just in case the working members of the
Weasley family could somehow afford them. The two youngest had scared the hell
out of his son, so much so that he had unconsciously apparated to the Dark Lord,
someone who he should have been afraid of. The hell they got to enjoy the World
Cup after pulling a stunt like that. Lucius had been in complete agreement with him,
of course, because Harry was theirs and neither of them enjoyed it when people
meddled with theirs.
"Ludo Bagman gave them tickets." Harry pointed out softly, thinking back on the
morning he woken to find the youngest Weasleys leaning over him. "Didn't you say
Bagman donated those tickets to the raffle?" Evan merely grinned back at him, his
face different beneath Tennyson's glamour, but Harry recognized him enough to
know that he was feeling amused and vicious.
"Oh, Mr Bagman says he can't remember now," a soft voice intoned from beside
them. They turned to stare at the young girl who watched them serenely. "Daddy and
I don't mind of course. We were going to come a week early, and camp, just the

other people with the cheap tickets, but Mr Weasley insisted we take the spare ones.
We're neighbours you see, but I'm not friends with any of his children."
"Aren't you upset that you'll miss the world cup?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes at
her. It wasn't that he liked Quidditch, but that this was the first game in England for
years, something monumental and memorable. Anyone who was anyone had
clamoured over themselves to get tickets for this event!
"Not really. I got to see you, so I'm happy." Lucius narrowed his eyes at her, stepped
closer to Harry possessively, but the teenager just smiled softly at him. "You don't
remember me do you, Harry?"
Harry's eyes widened. He did remember her, but it had taken him a minute. This was
the girl who had watched him in the common room as she held her book upside
down and he had sneaked out under his invisibility cloak. This was the girl who had
come up to him and told him they were going to be good friends. "I don't believe I
ever got your name." He held a hand out, and she placed hers gently into his grip.
Harry kissed her wrist lightly and released her.
"Luna Lovegood, and that's my daddy Xenophilius Lovegood."
"The editor of the Quibbler?" Theo asked, jumping into their conversation.
"And owner, yes." She reached into her pocket with the hand Harry had kissed and
pulled out a rolled up newspaper, "would you like today's edition?"
"Would you like to see the world cup?" Harry asked, before Theodore could open his
mouth to respond. The brunette looked up at his father, who looked down at him with
a raised eyebrow before nodding slowly. "Go get your father, we have spare tickets."
They watched Luna do exactly that. "Is there anyone you'd like to invite?" Lucius
asked, turning away from the young Ravenclaw to look at his own son. "Theo?" Both
boys shook their heads, no. Everyone they spoke to already had tickets. "Very well,
Harry? Anyone else?"
Harry reached over to squeeze Lucius' arms lightly, thanking him for the offer, before
turning to Evan. "If you promise not to change your mind after I've asked them, then
yes please?"
"I'm not going to like this, I can tell. But go ahead." Harry nodded gratefully at him,
half tempted to hug him but knowing he shouldn't in front of such a large crowd of
strangers. It wasn't proper.

"Fred! George!" Harry shouted, ignoring propriety in this instance however. "It's your
lucky day, get over here!" He noticed Ron and Ginny giving each other horrified
looks before glaring jealousy at the twins' backs. Fred and George were by his side
almost immediately, throwing their arms around Harry's shoulders before sinking to
their knees, their arms drawing down to lock around his waist instead.
"Oh merciful Lord!"
"Oh wondrous leader."
"Such a kind,"
"Wonderful,"
"Merciful,"
"Lovely,"
"Evil, Lord." The twins whispered into his stomach and hip, speaking one after the
other in between nuzzling at him. "How can we ever repay you?"
"Get off your knees, at once," Harry insisted, his cheeks flushing, "you're causing a
scene!"
"But, you like us on our knees!" George insisting, grinning widely up at Harry.
"Or would you prefer someone else, someone like... hmm..." Fred trailed off as
Harry's hand clamped down hard over his mouth, but everyone already knew what
he was going to say because both twins were staring straight at Lucius Malfoy.
Harry was mortified, flushed and wide-eyed, but Lucius leant forward calmly and
pried the boys away from his lover with a soft, "indeed." He took Harry's hand in his
own, unconcerned about people seeing because now they were all too interested in
the spectacle the youngest Weasleys were making of themselves in their jealousy,
and Arthur's frantic mutterings that Molly wouldn't be happy about this at all once she
found out. They slipped past the crowd, heading towards the centre of the campsite
that their tickets instructed was their area to pitch their tent, and as a house elf did
the work for them, the ten unlikely associated got ready to enjoy the Quidditch World
Cup.
XXX
That night.

He could distantly hear the sounds of running feet and shouting, but Harry frowned
in his sleep, burrowing further against his pillow and tried to block it all out. But when
someone settled over him, Harry's eyes snapped open, and adrenaline kicked him
into wakefulness.
A Death Eater hovered above him, their lower bodies touching, but strong arms
keeping Harry from being crushed. A half mask covered the man, but the grey eyes
and the tendrils of pale hair that escaped his hood gave the man away.
"They'll know who you are if they see that," Harry told him, pushing the locks of hair
back behind Lucius' ear.
"I'll tie it up in a moment." Lucius continued to just watch him, cloaked in a long black
robe and wearing his Death Eater mask, with the sleeve of his left arm pushed up so
that Harry could clearly see the Dark Mark. Harry had known it was there, had seen
it and kissed it, and dug his nails into it in the throes of his orgasm often enough. But
Lucius was waiting for something, dressed like this, and it took Harry a moment to
work out what it was.
This man above him was dangerous and powerful, cruel and cold and capable of
inhumane things. Most people were afraid of him, in awe of him, or plain hated him.
Not that many people loved him though, with the exception of Draco and Harry, and
he had few real friends. And Harry realised that Lucius was waiting for some form of
rejection, for Harry to take this all in, the robe, the mask, the Mark, and find him
wanting or detestable and come to his senses and run a mile. Lucius waited
patiently, calmly, though Harry could feel his heart pounding madly in his chest when
he reached up to touch Lucius. It was as if Harry's leave were inevitable, the only
possible conclusion, because why would someone as kind and thoughtful as Harry
(for all that he was Evan Rosier's son) want a Death Eater like Lucius Malfoy,
Voldemort's second at that?
But Harry did want him. Harry loved him, like he had never thought he could love
anyone. It was as, when Lucius was near him, life was a fairy tale and he had his
prince and his happily ever after, and no matter what happened he would be alright if
Lucius loved him. Sometimes, he thought mutinously, he would have been better
suited for Hufflepuff.
But it was more than that, he thought as he continued to mull over everything. This
summer had brought a lot of changes, a lot of time to think things over. He had had a
taste of the light side, and he had seen Voldemort several times in his dreams and
once in person, heard some of the plans, seen some of his thoughts, and felt the
emotions as Voldemort felt them. There was more to the man than what the world

had seen, and Harry felt honoured to know that, to be trusted with that knowledge
because surely Voldemort could find a way to keep Harry out of his head know that
he knew, but he hadn't. Whether he meant to or not, the Dark Lord had showed a
trust in Harry that had to be returned. And Harry did trust him, sitting by the man's
feet as Voldemort carded fingers through his hair and spoke to him as if they were
equals. There was still a lingering fear, a worry of the man and his abilities, but now
at least Harry trusted that Lord Voldemort wouldn't change his mind and dispose of
him upon his return. Voldemort wanted him, as a servant, a friend maybe, for keeps.
And Harry would be proud to call the man his Lord.
How, he wondered, could he serve his Lord and be ashamed to love someone who
likewise followed Voldemort. He couldn't he knew, but Lucius didn't know of his
epiphany, and he continued to wait, face hidden by his mask, but Harry could see
the way his lips pressed together tightly in worry. So Harry did, not what Lucius had
been waiting for, but something that answered his question nonetheless.
He pulled the Death Eater down for a kiss, spreading his legs beneath the sheets so
that Lucius could press closer to him, slotting himself against Harry's body like two
puzzle pieces. "I love you." Harry told him, simple and straightforward.
"I love you too." Lucius breathed, relieved, before pulling Harry into another kiss.
"The others are waiting for you outside. Hurry, go with them and hide." Lucius told
him, pulling himself off of Harry and pulling the boy after him. "Go, be safe."
Harry made his way to the door, glancing over his shoulder as Lucius pulled back the
hood to tie back his hair, before pulling it up again, hiding everything distinguishing
about himself beneath the black cloth that was uniform for the followers of the Dark
Lord.
Neither Wizard noticed that the twins had once more been listening in on their
conversation through the door in the tent.
XXX
September 1st 1994.
Sirius brought Harry to King's Cross Station. Remus didn't come with them,
apparently Dumbledore wanted him to go on an errand of some sort for him,
probably to do with the riot at the Quidditch World Cup because that was all anybody
was talking about lately. There was no Dark Mark in the sky, no deaths, nothing to
prove that this was Voldemort's doing, but the tingling in Harry's scar after Evan and
Lucius had returned to Malfoy manor told enough about the Dark Lord's pleasure for
Harry to know it had been the case.

Harry didn't say anything about it though. The twins didn't either, they simply went
home with the Portkey before the Malfoy's did, their mouths shut and their eyes
narrowed in contemplation.
"Well," Sirius said hesitantly reaching out to pull Harry into a hug. "Have a good year,
kiddo. Write to me, yeah? Or come back for Yule?"
That was the strange thing about Sirius. As much as he said he despised the
Pureblood propaganda, he still followed all of the old ways, even Remus did
sometimes, but then they stopped completely any time they had guests as if they
were ashamed of their beliefs and traditions. Harry had asked him why once, and
Sirius had simply shrugged, not knowing what to say.
"Yeah, maybe. I'll see."
Harry turned away. He spotted them immediately. Theodore, Draco, and Hermione
were standing together at the entrance to one of the compartments of the Hogwarts
Express. The adults were gone, having dropped them off some time ago, and the
trunks were already stowed away, but they waited for him at the doorway anyway,
just to make sure he wouldn't miss them.
Harry waved goodbye to Sirius, and made his way towards his friends. It was time to
go home.
XXX
1 " FYI, the grandparent thing? I'm not saying this is Mpreg before anyone gets in
arms about it. Harry could easily be seeing a girl as far as Sirius is concerned. Just
so you know.
2 " The Walrus and the Carpenter, "Through the Looking Glass", Lewis Carroll.
3 " This date was from the HP Lexicon. But Google says it should be the 22nd, but
since I had the scene before written first, I'm leaving it this way. Similarly, Voldemort
has been more active in this story than in canon, so he rescued Barty himself, along
with Evan (it's one of the things they were working on, but it's not really that
important overall).
Was going to make this a shorter chapter, according to my notes, but then I felt bad
cause it's been so long (though it's not really that long either sigh). So enjoy. And
yes, I really need to work on Through the Looking Glass, but I actually sent my
notes back tucked into a library book FML.

Chapter 40
Here is the next chapter. I met James and Oliver Phelps last week, there's one photo
on LiveJournal and the rest on facebook. Thanks for reviewing the last chapter, let
me know what you think of this one!
Words: 2,824
Chapter 40
September 1st 1994. Hogwarts.
Harry wasn't sure what had started it, because one minute he, Draco and Theo had
been making their way across the courtyard on the way to the Slytherin common
room and the next Draco and Ron were seconds away from a fist fight. And Draco
hated physical fighting; as far as he was concerned it was a wand duel or dishonour,
but there he was with his fists raised and a sneer on his face, moments away from
lunging at Ron.
"Oi!" Someone shouted. Ron spun around to see who had called them, visibly wilting
in place as their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher came half-running halfhobbling across the courtyard behind them.
Draco, who had prepared himself to dive at Ron, found himself with the momentum
to go, but no desire to. At the sight of the professor, he tried to stop himself, and
ended up stumbling three steps forward before he managed to balance himself
again. But that seemed to be enough for Mad-Eye Moody. Alastor raised his wand,
his one good eye narrowed as the magical glass eye spun wildly in the other socket,
and he pointed it at Draco.
"Think you're clever, eh, attacking someone from behind?" With a wave of Moody's
wand, Draco was gone. Harry glanced around wildly, and Theodore dropped to his
knees to scoop up the small, white thing that climbed out from between Draco's
discarded robes. "That'll teach you, boy!"
Theo held the ferret tight against his chest. Ron watched them, his face red but his
eyes bright and he couldn't keep himself from laughing at Malfoy's expense even if
he wanted to. "What the hell?" Harry shouted, pulling his own wand out of his
pocket.
"Put that away, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall exclaimed, appearing behind them
with her own wand drawn. "Alastor, we do not preform full body transfigurations on

the students!"
"But..." the older man started to protest, but McGonagall raised her wand again.
"We do not-"
"Practise full body transfigurations on the students, I heard you the first time," the
man sulked, clearly pouting. He tucked his own wand away, folding his arms loosely
in front of his stomach and hanging his head.
Minerva looked down at the pile of robes on the floor and then up at the shaking ball
of fur in Theo's arms and sighed. "Well, unless you fancy bearing yourself before the
rest of the school, I suggest your friends bring you to the hospital wing, Mr Malfoy. I
will be along shortly, now shoo." She turned away from them, her wand moving
sharply to whack Moody on the arm. "And you! It's time we had a talk about what is
and what is not proper behaviour for a Professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft
and Wizardry. Come along."
Moody followed her, his head bowed. The scars on his face shifted and rolled as he
made faces at McGonagall's back, all the while keeping his eyes downcast and his
arms folded before him. Harry glanced over his shoulder, watching them walk away.
There was something very familiar about that mad. It wasn't the way he walked,
because no one Harry knew had a limp like that, or the way he looked because
honestly who could forget someone who looked like that, but the way he carried
himself, the way he kept his eyes averted while speaking to McGonagall but not with
Draco, to the one in the position of power. It was... familiar. Harry thought that maybe
he had been in a situation like that before, obviously not with his transfigurations
professor, but with someone else maybe, and himself: one revered above the other?
But then they were out of sight, and Harry pushed them out of his mind, ignoring Ron
who stood alone in the courtyard as everyone walked away from him.
"Hey Draco." Harry leaned down to run his fingers softly along the ferret's neck. "Will
your father hear about this?" Theo and Harry snickered softly, and Draco glanced up,
his teeth bared and not at all impressed with being laughed at.
XXX
September 14th 1994.
Their classes had been what they always were. They had sat in the usual groups,
taken lunch with the usual friends, and even studied at their usual table in the library.
One difference with this year so far however was that Hermione had finally
discovered the existence of house elves, and Harry had been fortunate enough to sit

through a lecture on slavery and abuse and human rights on his fourth day back at
Hogwarts.
Another oddity was Alastor Moody. According to the Daily Prophet last week, Moody
had called the Aurors out to his home, insisting he was being attacked by Death
Eaters. Harry knew it was possible, but no one else believed him, the paper even
went as far as to call him a blatant alcoholic, and the fact that he walked around
Hogwarts taking swigs of out a never emptying hipflask didn't help his reputation
much. He had obviously survived the attack, if there even was one, since he was at
Hogwarts, but his classes were something else that had shook up the school this
year.
Moody was teaching the Dark Arts.
Alastor had spent the first class lecturing and the next carrying out a pseudo-test,
shouting questions and expecting people to know the answers based on the
previous weeks lecture. The Slytherin's all did well, having the relevant Dark Arts
knowledge anyway, and the Ravenclaw's faired alright considering they had actually
taken notes but the Gryffindors minus Hermione, who also took notes, failed that
class. Harry had heard that at least three Hufflepuffs had left the class in tears, but
that could be anything from fact to fiction so he didn't put much stock in it. The third
Defence class had been spent watching a demonstration of each of the
Unforgivables on magically-enlarged spiders. It wasn't fun, but it had been
interesting. This time, the rumour was that Neville Longbottom had fainted before
running out of the room in tears (because according to the Hogwarts rumour mill he
didn't need time to wake up in between the actions).
But this class, their fourth, had all of the fourth years squished into the one room
together, which made a change from being stuck with Hufflepuff or Slytherin on
rotation. It was a bit of a crush, but Harry had managed to snag a whole desk, albeit
at the front of the room, where he sat with Hermione to one side of him, and Draco,
Theo and Blaise Zabini on the other. Crabbe and Goyle, two sort-of-friends of
Draco's stood beside the bench, and two other Ravenclaws stood silently beside
where Hermione sat.
All of Harry's hard work in saving seats went to waste the moment Moody walked
into the room.
"Everybody up. Up, now. Line up against the walls. I'm going to call your names, one
by one in no particular order and I'm going to tell you to do something and you're
going to do it." The magical eye swivelled in its socket, glancing around at the
students who watched him warily even as they shuffled to the back of the room. "You

don't need to be a Ravenclaw to figure out Ihow/I I'm going to make you do what I
want, so, first up... Ronald Weasley. Yes, you," Moody called sounding annoyed as
Ron glanced around fearfully and had to be shoved back to the front of the room,
"with the red hair and poor robes, come here. Imperio."
He didn't speak out loud, so no one knew what Ron was going to do until he'd done
it. They didn't have to wait long. After three seconds Ron pulled down his trousers
and his boxers and flashed the entire class.
"Sit down. Finite Incantatem. Next, Michael Corner." They went through nearly all of
the fourth years, with the exception of the Slytherins who seemed to have been
shuffled to the end of the list, by the time Harry was called.
Bow to me, Harry. Submit to me... The voice inside of his head hissed, low and
seductive but not quite the same as when Voldemort hissed at him.
No, Harry thought back, Not to you.
After a moment, the voice changed, dropping in pitch sounding almost breathy when
it spoke this time. Then crawl to me, Harry, sit at my feet. You want to, I know you
do, you want to feel my fingers run through your hair. You like that.
Harry had unconsciously found him with his knees bent, as if he were about to fall to
them, when his consciousness broke through. His head snapped up and he glanced
suspiciously at Alastor Moody, noticing the way the man's tongue snuck out to wet
the corner of his lips before he took a gulp from that hipflask. How did he knew know
that? How had he found out about that? Harry had sat at Voldemort's feet over the
summer, spending the night at Riddle Manor as the Dark Lord carded his fingers
through Harry's hair uncontested. Harry had liked it. But no one but Evan and that
other Death Eater had been there, unless, this man wasn't a Legilimens was he?
Bow. To. Me. The voice was angry now, desperate and furious, but Harry refused to
yield, not to someone he didn't trust, not to someone who might hurt him. He had
one Lord, one father, and one lover: this man was none of them.
"No." Harry told him, back straight and eyes narrowed. He had his hands clenched at
his sides, shaking lightly but he stared the professor down, not dropping his gaze
until Moody did.
A smile tugged at Moody's scarred lips, and he waved Potter away. "Draco Malfoy.
Ah, Lucius' boy, yes? I remember Lucius, yes I do." He asked as Draco sauntered
his way to the front of the class. He didn't sound too fond of the man however, that
was to be expected, being that Moody was an old Auror and Lucius a Death Eater.

Harry stood beside Hermione, who was glancing him over curiously, wondering how
he had managed what no other student in the class had so far. Harry had fought off
the Imperious Curse, he hadn't even made a fool of himself before doing so, or
injured himself like the Hufflepuff who was told to stand on his head and nearly broke
his neck trying not to. He was the only one so far to resist. He was the only one,
because by the end of the class no other had managed it, not even Draco.
"Imperio!" Moody called, his wand pointed at Draco.
The boy's face went blank for a moment, and then he surged into action. Harry didn't
have a chance to react before Draco was on him, hands on his neck and face,
shoving him back against the wall and knocking Eloise Midgen1 to the floor. Draco's
mouth was against his, harsh and demanding and nothing like Lucius' kisses, and
the boy's actions were stiff and jerky, like a puppet on a string, but there was
something in Draco's eyes as they kissed that screamed at him. Harry tried to push
him off, tried to close his mouth off to Draco's tongue but then those hands squeezed
around Harry's neck again and he went limp, yielding to the kiss and the way Draco
pressed their bodies together and ground his erection into Harry's hip.
"Finite Incantatem," Moody whispered softly, wondering if Malfoy would keep kissing
if he hadn't heard the counter-spell being cast.
He didn't. Draco sprung away as if burned, his face red and his eyes tearing up. He
glanced at Harry with wide eyes, his bottom lips trembling before he turned and
stalked out of the classroom. He didn't glance in Moody's direction as he left, but he
caught Ron snickering out of the corner of his eyes. He couldn't punish a professor,
but a Weasley was fair game, he thought, hexing the boy as he left the room, his
wand up his sleeve to make sure that no one saw who shouldn't.
Harry watched him leave. Moody watched Harry.
XXX
September 22nd 1994.
Dumbledore was giving an announcement but honestly Harry wasn't listening. Draco
had avoided him for the past week, and had only recently decided to talk to him
again, and Harry was too busy listening to Draco apologize for molesting his father's
lover to listen to Dumbledore natter on.
"I told you, it wasn't your fault!" Harry smiled softly at him, reaching out to squeeze
his arm. They were sitting at the Ravenclaw table, where Harry had been waiting
patiently for dinner before Draco strolled over and dropped down beside him in a

repeat of earlier that morning.

"Nonetheless my behaviour was deplorable and not at befitting of the House of
Malfoy. Father would be greatly displeased if he knew."
"Well he doesn't." Harry didn't get a chance to say more because suddenly the entire
student population was in an uproar. People were whispering over Dumbledore,
shouting over each other, and generally ignoring the rest of the Headmaster's
speech. Harry glanced around, frowning slightly. "What did I miss?" Draco shrugged.
Roger Davis, Harry's Quidditch captain and a sixth year answered him, leaning
across the table so Harry could hear. "They're bringing the Tri-Wizard Tournament
back to Hogwarts this year. Mind you, they're cancelling Quidditch which is
outrageous if you ask me, and implementing an age restriction of seventeen." He
shrugged lightly, though he still looked annoyed at the ban on Quidditch.
"But didn't people die in the last one?" Harry asked. He had read a mention of it in
Hogwarts: A History, but he had never bothered to go searching for more
information. He only knew that it was a competition between schools which had been
banned because of a high level of participant deaths.
"In every other one at least, if they weren't killed they were maimed or injured. One
guy even got tortured first back in 1708, he mis-apparated and ended up in the
clutches of the current Dark Lord who thought he was a spy. They got bits of him
back, but well, you know. I, for one, am glad for the age line. Imagine the amount of
first year Gryffindors that would probably try and enter," Benjamin added. Chambers
was also on the Quidditch team, and they and Adam Bradley were nice enough to
Harry in school but the boy didn't hear from them at all outside of Hogwarts. They
weren't friends. They were Quidditch team mates and that was all. Harry was
surprised the sixth years were talking to him now considering this years' Quidditch
was cancelled.
When the Hall quietened down, Dumbledore continued with his announcement.
"Students from Durmstrang Institute and the Beauxbatons Academy will be arriving
towards the end of October. I expect each and every one of you to welcome them
into our school and to show them real Hogwarts hospitality, understood?" There
were a chorus of agreements to that statement, and then Dumbledore announced
that dinner could begin. Food appeared on the table, and as Harry helped himself, a
lone owl swooped into through an open window and glided down to rest beside him.
Harry glanced at the owl, and the letter it carried. It was unusual to receive post this
late, unless it was from Evan asking to meet in the Forbidden Forest (which was no

longer a regular occurrence) or bad news. Harry wondered which it was, and then he
saw the familiar handwriting, simply reading 'Harry', and he knew who it was from. It
was in the tail of the 'y' and the way he had crossed the two lines of the 'h' so that it
joined up as part of the 'a', but it was the same as with the letter he had received
with the deluminator. It was Voldemort's writing, and Harry suddenly couldn't
breathe. What if something had happened to Evan, to Lucius, Voldemort? What if
something had gone wrong?
But the letter only contained two words. Harry tried to pass it off as a coincidence,
tried to pretend the letter could have arrived at any other time, but Filch chose that
moment to drag two more chairs to the Head Table, for the professors of the other
schools, and Harry couldn't deny he knew exactly what Voldemort meant.
Age restriction my arse, Harry thought, glancing back down at the letter.
"What does it say?" Draco asked, not liking the way Harry had gone pale just before
he opened it. The blond tugged the letter towards himself, and Harry let him,
because Draco wouldn't know what it meant unless Harry chose to explain. "'Prepare
yourself'?" Draco read off the parchment, before glancing back up at his friend with
wide, grey eyes. "For what?"
Harry didn't answer him.
XXX
1 " also spelt Midgeon.
Thanks for reading :) It seemed longer in note form. My bad.

Chapter 41
For a while there I forgot who Harry was living with. I was like, ahh I killed Vernon so
who signed his permission form for Hogsmeade DERP! But then I remembered lol.
At least there wasn't a long wait this time? :P Through the Looking Glass 4 is with
my beta, but I don't know when I'll be able to update because I'm meant to be getting
my wrists tattooed Tuesday coming all goes well and don't know if I'll be able to type.
I'm kind of a whimp, you see! Might not though until the end of the month, we'll see!
Words: 4,516
Chapter 41
October 4th 1994. Hogsmeade.
"Who do you think will win the first Quidditch match?" Theodore asked, turning his
head to the side so that he could see Draco properly. Harry followed a little ways
behind them, Crabbe and Goyle following behind him. The five of them made up one
of the many groups venturing into Hogsmeade that day, and each of them clutched
their permission slips firmly in their hands. Harry's form no longer bore the forged
signature of Vernon Dursley on it; instead it was signed with an elegant flourish, in
purple ink, pompously reading "the infamous Sirius Black". Harry was rather pleased
by it.
Draco handed his form over first, giving Filch a disdainful glance as the man began
checking each form. The elder man handed the sheets back once he was done,
ordering the children to keep them safe for the next Hogsmeade visit.
"Slytherin obviously!" Draco said once Filch was behind them, already checking the
next group of departing students.
"Well, what if they're playing Ravenclaw next? Don't you think Harry might be a little
better than our own Seeker?"
"What does it matter?" Harry butted in, scowling. "Quidditch is cancelled this year."
"Harry!" Both Theo and Draco shouted, turning simultaneously to pin him with twin
dirty looks.
"If we can't have real Quidditch we must settle for the virtual equivalent. The
Weasley twins have already started a betting pool of who would have won if it
weren't for the Tournament." Draco ran a hand through his blond hair, offering Harry

a half smile before adding, "I'm betting for Slytherin. No offence mate."
"How do they pick the winner?" Crabbe asked, pushing his way past Harry so that he
could see Draco clearly.
Theodore chuckled, rolling his eyes. He wasn't a fan of the two burly Purebloods, but
they had known Draco since they were born and Draco made a habit of letting them
follow him around and helping them with their homework in exchange. "The
Champion, once they're picked, determines the Quidditch winner for the year. If, say,
a Slytherin is picked for Hogwarts, then Draco and whoever else chose Slytherin will
win the bet."
"What if a Ravenclaw is picked?" Harry slyly asked. He looked up at his two friends
through his fringe, taking in their confused expressions and wondering if Voldemort's
note was enough of a clue for him to assume so much. Maybe he was overthinking
things again? Maybe it was nothing?
"What Ravenclaw in their right mind would give up exams in order to fight for their
life in the Tri-Wizard Tournament?" Draco scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."
"What if they had no choice?" Harry continued testing the waters. If he wasn't wrong,
he'd like to know now how his friends would react so that he wouldn't be taken by
surprise later. He really didn't like surprises.
"Everyone has a choice. No one can force you to put your name in the Goblet of
Fire!" Theo laughed lightly, as if the very idea was preposterous. But Harry knew it
was a possibility, at least for him, but before he could bring it up again someone
cleared their throat, and all five boys turned in the direction of the Hogs Head.
"Fancy seeing you here, Mr Potter."
"Lucius!" Harry exclaimed, just as Draco nodded regally and said, "father."
"I hope you have no objections to me spiriting Mr Potter away for an hour or so, hmm
boys?" No body protested, and so Lucius reached out with a small smile to take
Harry's hand in his own.
They entered the Hogs Head alone, and the boys continued down the street until
they came to Zonkos. They disappeared together inside the shop, and Lucius lead
Harry towards a table in the centre of the pub.
"Wouldn't over there be a little more private?" Harry asked, pointing to a shadowy
corner. The barman watched them, his eyes narrowed slightly, and he tugged a hand

through his beard worriedly half wondering if he should go over and rescue the
young boy.
"Right here is fine, Harry." Lucius took his hand again, pulling it up to his mouth for a
kiss. Harry smiled at him, wide and open, and Lucius found himself smiling back.
"Draco kissed me!" He blurted accidentally. Aberforth was beside their table, two
menus held out, but his arm seemed to freeze as Lucius' eyes narrowed. The menus
were dropped unnoticed onto the table, and Aberforth reached for his wand as
Lucius squeezed the edge of the table harshly. "It wasn't his fault though! Our new
Defence professor is a bit fond of teaching the Unforgivables, and we were testing
the Imperious, and well, it's a bit hard to push off. I managed though! But Draco
didn't, and I just wanted you to know. But he feels really bad, so don't tell him you
know ok?"
"He didn't wish to kiss you?" Lucius asked slowly, feeling far calmer once Harry gave
him an enthusiastic nod. "Well, there seems only one more thing to say on the
matter. Whose kiss was better, Harry, his... or mine?" And without giving Harry a
chance to answer, Lucius tugged him across the table and pressed their mouths
together. It was all tongue and teeth and jealousy, but Harry wove his hands through
Lucius' hair and moaned loudly ignoring the flashes of the cameras that had
materialised around them.
"Yours," Harry whispered once Lucius let him go. "Definitely yours."
XXX
October 7th 1994. Hogwarts.
The Great Hall was in an uproar when Harry finally made his way there. He strolled
in for breakfast around the time the first groups would usually be leaving, but was
rather shocked to find that the room was still packed to bursting. No one was making
any move to leave. Instead they were glancing between themselves and their copies
of the Daily Prophet, and as the doors opened nearly everyone turned to see who
was coming inside.
"It's Harry!"
"Harry!"
"Ask him if it's true!"
"Harry is it true?"

The Ravenclaw glanced around uneasily, feeling as if someone had dropped him
into the middle of a play without telling him his lines. He unfroze himself after
glancing in Draco's direction and made his way to the Slytherin table hesitantly.
"What happened? What have I done?"
Draco pushed a cup of tea into Harry's hands before handing him the paper. The
front page was nothing more than the newspaper's title header and a photo that took
up the rest of the double sheet. It was of Lucius and Harry, in the Hogs Head, kissing
furiously with Lucius pulling Harry half across the small table that separated them.
Vaguely Harry remembered cameras flashing, but he hadn't really thought about it
until now, until this picture had opened his eyes to the possibility that people had
seen them, that people knew.
"Read it," Theodore suggested, opening the paper up while Harry's fingers fumbled
to help him.
"The prestigious Lord and Wizard, Lucius Malfoy, was seen last Hogsmeade
weekend kissing our very own Saviour, Harry Potter, in front of numerous witnesses
at the Hogs Head pub. The pub, owned and staffed by Aberforth Dumbledore, is
notorious for its shady clientele, and this reporter worries about the mere fact that a
Hogwarts student was even allowed inside. Fortunately, Lucius Malfoy was there to
protect him." Harry glanced up at his friends, and then over to the Headmaster who
shared the same name as the man who had eventually broken up their kissing and
brought them their food. Everyone seemed to be staring at him, and Harry
swallowed nervously, before looking back down at the paper that didn't seem to be
saying anything of importance. Until one line in particular jumped out at him.
"Lucius Malfoy was quoted, two days ago, outside of the Ministry of Magic, as having
entered into amiable separation proceedings with his current, soon-to-be ex-wife,
Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, and is planning on Courting Harry Potter into a future
marriage." The article continued, wishing well and then contradicting itself by
wondering what Malfoy could see in a child or what Harry was using Lucius for. But
Harry barely took in those words.
"Your parents are getting a divorce because of me?" He glanced up at Draco who
was sure to hate him now, only to find the boy smiling softly at him.
"I don't know how Muggles do it, Harry, but Wizards don't get divorced. They're
separating. Because they married due to a contract, and it wasn't a love match, once
the separation period is completed, the marriage is considered to be annulled.
Father can, therefore, get married again, as can mother, without judgement or

ridicule because it's as if the first marriage didn't exist. Legally, of course it did, or I
wouldn't be able to inherit anything. But as a matter of honour, both of my parents
would be considered pure. No one wants to marry somebody else's cast off, unless
they're widowed of course. But this way, it'd be impolite to mention the previous
marriage outside of the immediate family, and so no one can hold it against them."
"It sounds complicated." Harry whispered, glancing back at the photo of them
kissing.
"Maybe you should ask Lucius for some books? Evan will probably quiz you all
about marriage customs next time you see him!" Theodore teased. He had found it
inordinately amusing when Harry had told him that Evan refused to explain what a
house elf was the first time Harry had met one. Instead Harry had to ask questions
and research and hope that by the time Evan asked he would know the answer. It
was no surprise really that Harry had ended up in Ravenclaw.
"No need." Draco pointed at the ceiling, where the post owls were sweeping inside a
few minutes late. Not that it mattered, because no one had left the hall. Lucius' owl
was amongst them, followed closely by Hedwig.
Harry took Hedwig's note first. It was from Evan, and he didn't sound too impressed
by the sound of it. Mostly though, it was a request for future important information to
be directed to him personally and not through the morning mail, despite the fact that
he was living at Malfoy Manor with the separating couple who still hadn't thought to
inform him. Harry hadn't known, and he wrote that back, but he accepted the "p.s.
congratulations" without comment. He took the package from the second owl then,
running his fingers lightly over his head in thanks.
"He sent me books on marriage customs. He's even earmarked the pages I need to
read." Harry gave a soft laugh, pushing away his tea and pulling out the first book.
"Courting gifts," he read out loud from the first page that was marked. "Is this a
courting gift? Because it's given publically? Even though Lucius has given me plenty
of things before?"
"Yes. Because it is public, because it is being made known that you have been given
it. It is if you accept it." Draco told him softly.
"How do I accept it?" Harry began to read, not looking up at the grin on Theo's face,
or the glares Ron and Ginny were sporting over at the Gryffindor table.
"You already have," Draco told him, waving his hand at the book that Harry had
already put to use. "Congratulations. I hope you're both happy together."

Harry smiled up at him in thanks. As he was ducking his head again, he caught
Snape looking down on him with the oddest expression he had ever seen the man
wear. If Harry hadn't known better, he would have sworn that Snape looked worried
for him. But that wasn't possible. Hell would freeze over before Severus Snape
would give a shit about him, so Harry scoffed lightly at his own ridiculous thoughts,
and went back to utilizing Lucius' first public gift to him.
Snape continued to watch Lily's son. He had known Lucius for a very long time, and
he knew what kind of man Lucius was. Despite his claims to innocence, Lucius was
a real Death Eater, cruel and proud and loyal to a fault, and because of that despite
their friendship Severus couldn't help but feel a little sick at the thought of the man
going anywhere near the son of the woman he loved.
He had gotten her killed. He had promised he would let nothing happen to her only
child: that included from Lord Voldemort, Albus Dumbledore and now Lucius Malfoy.
Whether Harry wanted his protection or not, he was getting it, Snape thought,
scowling down at the Slytherin table where the current bane of his existence sat
unaware of his stare.
XXX
October 19th 1994.
Defence Against the Dark Arts continued its trend of that year, each class as insane
as the last. Harry found it rather interesting; sure the professor was mad as a hatter,
and he kept casting the Imperious on Harry without warning, but still, they were
learning more than they'd learnt any other year so far (well, barring Remus Lupin,
who had turned Harry off of the subject with his incessant stories about the
Marauders). Also, Ron Weasley still hadn't lived down his own incident, involving the
whole of fourth year and him dropping his trousers. It was little things like that that
made Harry overlook the continued mental insistence that he bow.
"Potter!" Moody shouted. A hand fell on Harry's arm just as he was about to pass
through the door. Harry let himself be tugged backwards, turning to glance over his
shoulder at his professor who was dragging him to the other side of the class.
"Malfoy, Nott, out now!" Alastor called again.
Harry nodded at them, and they left while casting wary glances at each other.
"What's the matter, sir?" Harry asked. He folded his arms across his chest, watching
with narrowed eyes as Moody pulled the stopper on the flask that he usually carried
on his hip and took a long gulp of whatever was inside. He offered it towards Harry,
but the tightening on scarred fingers on the flask made Harry think that the man

didn't really want to share with him. The brunette shook his head, wrinkling his nose
at the strange smell that was suddenly in the room. The cork was back in the flask,
and with it the smell was gone. "What is it?"
"Medicine," Moody told him gruffly. From the sickly smell of it, Harry would well
believe it. But there was something also very familiar about it, but he wasn't sure
what. What was it about that smell that made him so curious?
"Sir?" Harry asked, "Are you ill?"
"Not at all, Potter," Moody told him, a wide grin on his face. Harry glanced away from
his bared teeth, and turned back just as a sheet of parchment was thrust into his
face. "I made you an itinerary. I have had few promising students, even in the Auror
Corps, and it wouldn't do to waste true potential now that I've discovered it."
"I don't want to be an Auror," Harry protested. Moody ignored him, continuing to
speak as if Harry hadn't made a sound. He shook the itinerary, and Harry finally
reached out for it.
"I thought we'd start with the summoning spell. Incantation, Accio, flick and swish, Mr
Potter, on three."
Harry glanced over the list almost an hour later, once Moody had finally managed to
beat the spell into Harry's wrist movements correctly. Apparently, he had a problem
swishing before he flicked rather than after! The summoning spell; the properties of
Gillyweed; a handful of useful, sixth level defensive spells; information on Portkeys;
a selection of riddles he was to memorize; Harry could barely comprehend the
content that Alastor wanted to teach him. How much use would this be in any of his
exams? Even if he could apply a few of the spells or principles, he wouldn't be tested
on that kind of material for another two or three years at least!
"Potter!" Moody called, swigging from his flask again. "What are you like at crying on
demand?"
"What?" Harry turned, frowning, and took his hand off the door knob. Moody was
leaning back against his desk, arms crossed and his wooden leg sticking straight out
awkwardly. "Crying?"
"Yes, it could come in handy someday, you know. Perhaps you should practise?"
Moody stood then, pushing himself slowly off of the table and hobbled to the door at
the back of the classroom. Presumably it led to his private quarters, and Harry
watched him open the door and turn to glance back over his shoulder. "While you're
at it, consider entering the Tri-Wizard Tournament yeah?"

The door closed behind him and Harry was left in the empty classroom with his
mouth hanging open and a list of everything he'd need to win the Tournament in his
shaking hands.
XXX
October 30th 1994.
The Beauxbatons students had arrived first. A gigantic carriage had appeared on the
horizon, flying through the sky at the back of several large winged horses. The
students stepped out of the carriage and Hagrid had taken the Pegasi away to be
taken care off. No one had noticed that though because immediately after the
carriage had touched down on Hogwarts soil, the black lake began to ripple and
writhe. A ship burst through the surface, mast first, and so on until it was floating
proudly on the waves it had created. The Hogwarts students cheered and
applauded, and one by one, the students of Durmstrang disembarked their ship.
Harry watched them, twirling the promise ring that had arrived in the mail three days
ago around his ring finger. One boy, Viktor Krum the Bulgarian Seeker and one of
the players who had shaken Harry's hand in the Minister's box at the Quidditch
World Cup, led the way side by side with his Highmaster. A tall blond girl seemed to
take charge of Beauxbatons. Their headmistress towered over them all, but one girl
was especially dwarfed. She bore a striking resemblance to the blond in the lead,
and looked to only be eight years old. She obviously wasn't there to compete.
It was during dinner that Harry realized something else that no one had seemed to
pick up on. Nearly none of the Durmstrang students were there to compete either.
He had watched Viktor Krum place his name in the Goblet of Fire, once the hall had
cleared after lunch: well, actually Hermione had noticed and told him. But none of
the others had bothered. Whereas everyone who had come from Beauxbatons
except for the little girl had placed their name in the Goblet.
At least he knew who he'd be competing against from Durmstrang, Harry thought,
eyeing Krum with curiosity and suspicion. He hoped it wasn't a physical task,
because there was no way he'd be able to take Krum in a fight. The boy was tall and
broad, and so serious looking. Harry didn't think he'd know how to take it easy on
anyone, even if Harry were three years his junior.
Harry waited after dinner until the tables were cleared and the hall was empty before
approaching the Goblet of Fire. He had made sure previously to always been seen in
someone else's company, just so that no one could accuse him of anything. But this
was his last chance to approach the Goblet because tomorrow at breakfast the

champions would be announced. He held a scrap of paper with his name on it, and
he contemplated how he was supposed to get past the age line. He had an ageing
potion in his pocket that he had bullied Draco into helping him brew and he had
some Polyjuice he had stolen from Snape in the other along with a fist full of hair
from some seventh year he had found sleeping on the Common Room sofa last
night. He just wasn't sure which one would work the best.
"Come on Forge! Quickly!" Someone shouted. It startled Harry, and he dropped the
piece of paper. He managed to pull his invisibility cloak out of his pocket though and
throw it over himself before Fred or George spotted him though.
"I'm coming. Come on, drink the aging potion!" Harry watched them, hidden from
sight, as the two boys just shy of their seventeenth birthday attempted to trick the
age line. They ended up thrown across the floor, both with grey hair and beards and
Harry sighed heavily because that only left him with the option of the Polyjuice which
wasn't guaranteed to work either.
"Harry?" Fred called, reading off of the paper he had found on the floor. Harry cursed
under his breath, holding as still as possible while the two boys held their hands out
in front of them, searching for Harry Potter. "We're your friends Harry, if you're there
you can come out."
"Accio invisibility cloak!" George called, waving his hand. Nothing happened. "Maybe
he isn't here? Maybe he changed his mind about entering?"
"Why would he want to enter in the first place? He's already famous, he's already
rich, he's just a kid; what reason could he have?"
"I don't know George," Fred shook the paper as he spoke. "But he wanted to, so why
not? What could it hurt?" Before George could stop him, Fred had dropped the paper
into the Goblet. It caught fire, smouldering at the edges and curling up to hide the
name. Fred went flying back across the floor again, crawling to his feet with a groan.
He watched disappointedly as the paper spat up into the air, turning to dust and
ashes and floating back down around their heads. "Well, never mind," Fred said with
a shrug.
George just shrugged his shoulders at him, not knowing what to say. They needed to
talk to Harry; especially considering what the Prophet was writing about Harry and
Malfoy now but the boy seemed to be particularly good at avoiding them. It was
probably because they gave him the Marauder's Map, George thought sourly. "Let's
get out of here."
Harry watched them go, waiting until the doors closed before glancing at the Goblet.

He would have thought Voldemort might have rigged it somehow to accept his name,
but apparently the man hadn't. And now Harry was out of time to try it himself. So
much for being a Tri-Wizard Champion, Harry thought to himself as he slipped out of
the Great Hall. Harry didn't noticed Moody slip out of the shadowy alcove behind the
head table, and grin as he made his way to the Goblet and dropped in his own sheet
of paper.
The Goblet accepted the parchment, the flame turning from blue to red and back
again. Alastor Moody left the great hall, and Hogwarts and her inhabitants were none
the wiser.
XXX
October 31st 1994.
Considering Harry had watched the entering of his name into the Goblet fail, he had
been rather happy that morning convinced of the fact that despite it being Halloween
which was usually a bad day for him, nothing unexpected was going to happen. It
was going to be a normal breakfast, and lunch, and dinner, and all of the classes in
between were going to be normal and ordinary and boring too. There would be no
trolls, no crazy house elves, no werewolves, no Tri-Wizard announcements, nothing
like that.
Except...
"Harry Potter?" Dumbledore whispered. He looked absolutely furious and a little bit
scared and he kept repeating the name over and over, reading from the burnt piece
of parchment clenched between his two hands. "Harry Potter? Is Harry Potter here?"
Harry glanced in the direction the other three Champions had gone, exiting the hall
into a side room that also led back into the hallway. Hermione was sitting beside him
that morning, and she began to furiously nudge his arm, glaring at him and nodding
pointedly at the Headmaster until Harry stood up. His knees trembled and his
couldn't stop his hands shaking. He stepped towards the head table, trying to ignore
the glances that he could feel on him, ignoring the way his skin crawled every time
someone whispered his name.
He should have seen this coming. He should have been expecting this. Voldemort
had told him to prepare himself, and what had he done? He had assumed since his
own attempt to enter the tournament had failed that the plan was over, he had heard
Cedric Diggory get picked as the Hogwarts champion and had let his guard down.
And now he felt sick and dizzy and so very uncomfortable as Dumbledore grabbed
his elbow and dragged him the rest of the way out of the hall.

Harry managed to glance over his shoulder once before the door to the side room
closed behind the Headmaster. He didn't see some of his friends glancing worriedly
in his direction, and he didn't see most of the school glaring angrily, and he didn't see
the way the teachers were wringing their hands over their plates. But he didn't see
the way Mad-Eye Moody was grinning, mouth stretched wide and teeth bared just
before he took another sip from his hip flask.
And Harry saw the brown and green butterfly that was perched on the edge of
Moody's plate.
So much for ordinary, Harry thought, narrowing his eyes at Evan's animagus form
until he was out of view. Then he turned, and found him face to face with the other
three champions, just before their head teachers burst into the room along with the
rest of the Hogwarts teaching staff.
"Harry," Dumbledore exclaimed shaking him lightly by the shoulders, "did you put
your name into the Goblet of Fire?"
"No!" Harry told them, glancing at each face individually. They ranged from worried,
to disappointed, to surprised, to outraged, to disgusted, but Dumbledore looked back
at him with fear in his eyes.
"Did you ask anyone to put your name into the Goblet of Fire?"
"No," Harry told them again, because after all it was the truth. He knew what
Dumbledore was thinking, the same thing Harry was thinking, that in correlation with
the attack at the World Cup, this stank of something the Dark Lord could have come
up with, but Harry didn't deny or confirm anything of the sort. Instead, he drew on
some advice Alastor Moody had given him a few weeks ago, and forced tears to
come to his eyes. "You do believe me, don't you sir?" He asked, his bottom lip
trembling between the words. One fat tear escaped his eye and slid down his cheek.
"Yes, I believe you, Harry." Dumbledore pulled Harry into a quick hug, and the boy let
him, hiding his smile in the old man's beard. He was usually so bad at lying, but
Albus seemed to have believed him. Behind them, Moody grinned again, and
perched on the top of his head a butterfly spread its brown and green wings and took
flight.
XXX
Thanks for reading. Please review, if you want, hopefully. Possibly. Go on...

Chapter 42
Firstly, so... Apparently the tattoo artist we booked an appointment with doesn't want
our money since he gave away our appointment and didn't bother to tell us until we
rang up to confirm. He was like, what? Oh you, yeah sorry bout that. Gr.
Secondly, this is kind of shorter than my notes planned (there was a Hogsmeade
weekend, Hagrid and the Dragons, the First Task and a second Courting Gift). But
I'm not feeling the best... Mum hit me in the face with a cupboard door yesterday and
while I think I'm concussed she blames my sinuses (course she does, she's the one
who concussed me), but my head hurts and I'm tired and dizzy and just plain crap.
So I hope the chapter reads ok lol. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!
Words:4,044
Chapter 42
November 3rd 1994. Hogwarts.
The first two days of November had gone by in a blur of angry accusations and
forced tears. Neither head teach of the other schools believed Harry's declarations of
innocence, but with the majority of the teaching staff backing him up (even Snape!
Snape of all people, mind you the man had said he was too stupid to trick the Goblet
but still) there wasn't much they could do about it.
Bartemius Crouch and Ludo Bagman had been called to the school. They were the
Ministry workers who were supposed to be overseeing the running of the Tri- now
Four-Wizard Tournament, but each had their own excuses for missing the name
calling debacle. Bagman had insisted it was simply a mistake; that everyone should
re-enter their names and the Tournament should just be started again. Crouch was
adamant that there was no getting around it, someone (since Harry was adamant it
wasn't him) had entered the boy's name, not as an underage Hogwarts student, but
as a member of a fourth school, which did not exist in Europe at all, who was of age
to meet the requirements. Whoever had tricked the Goblet had done an outstanding
job, and Harry had spent that particular meeting glaring holes in Alastor Moody.
It would have been considered cheating to admit that he had only allowed Viktor
Krum to enter his name and actively discouraged the others from doing the same,
and so Karkaroff had insisted the Tournament go ahead on the grounds that "it
vouldn't be right to potentially loose Vhiktor his place in history as this year's vinner!"
Fleur had agreed completely, talking over her headmistress, and insisting that she

didn't want to risk someone else being picked over her. If Harry had to participate,
she was happy enough to beat him along with the other two male contestants.
Cedric hadn't said much of anything. He had given Harry the odd curious look every
now and then, from the corner of his eyes. He believed Harry, because Harry wasn't
the type to lie and Harry wasn't a Slytherin, but on the other hand this boy was a
Ravenclaw and one of the top scorers in his year and Cedric was meant to
participate against him? It wasn't something he would actively agree to do, and so
he backed up Madame Maxime and asked for their names to be re-drawn.
But in the end, after two days of being forced into a cramped room with one another,
they had finally come around to Crouch's way of thinking. Harry Potter was now one
of two Hogwarts Champions, and there was nothing he or anyone else could do
about it.
Harry wasn't exactly impressed by this of course, but what Voldemort wanted
apparently Voldemort got. Harry should have known better than to assume
otherwise.
But what Harry wanted, more than to get out of the Tournament, was to see how his
friends had reacted. He hadn't seen them since his name got called and he was
exempted from classes until the next day, which meant that he'd miss a full three
days of the schools' reactions. Harry guessed it was probably bad, because the
Ravenclaw boys in his dorm had been avoiding him: they were asleep by the time
Dumbledore escorted him to his dorm last night and the night before and they were
awake and gone by the time Professor Flitwick woke him up each morning. Even
Stephen Cornfoot, the Mudblood that Harry had tormented in their first year for being
unbelievably lazy, was awake before Harry. He could only surmise that the others
were waking Cornfoot, but not him, in some pointless act of spite. Not that it
mattered, of course.
Lucius and Evan mattered, and both knew what was happening and why. Sirius
would likely worry more than he'd be angry, and Harry knew the man would happily
place the blame on Voldemort's shoulders than believe Harry did this purposely and
lied about it, (mind you, even if Harry admitted to having done this himself the man
would probably be ecstatic at the idea of Harry turning into a prankster like his
father). Draco and Theodore mattered and Harry had already tried to test the waters
with them in Hogsmeade before being interrupted by Lucius, and he worried about
how they'd react. He worried a lot. Then, there was Hermione to consider. She
wasn't really his friend, well, maybe she was, but he wasn't sure if he wanted her to
be. Would it really matter to him if she was angry with him as well? Probably, but
enough to do anything about it? Probably not, he reasoned, because he could hardly
outright tell her that the Dark Lord had insisted he compete like he could with Draco

and Theo. Their fathers were Death Eaters, they understood, but Hermione wouldn't.
Hermione never would. Hermione would never fully be his friend until she could
understand, and she couldn't not really, not being who she was, but Harry still
inconceivably found himself worried by her reaction.
It would really suck if all of his friends hated him.
"Harry," Draco greeted him rather coolly outside of the Great Hall. Theodore was by
his side, with Pansy Parkinson standing in the middle of them, where Harry should
have been. The boy narrowed green eyes on her, but she simply turned her nose up
at him and smirked.
"Leave, Parkinson." Harry scowled at her, reaching forward to shove her lightly,
hoping she'd get the hint. He had never liked her, she was nosy and clingy and too
much of a gossip to be trusted even a little. It didn't help that she was convinced she
was in love with Draco and they were going to be married and have lots of little
Malfoy-pug-faced-babies: well, maybe she'd grow out of the pug-faced-thing, but still
it made Harry cringe just thinking about it.
Draco shook his arm lightly, and the hand that Pansy had resting on it dislodged.
She glanced between Draco and Harry and scowled harder before striding away
without a word. "You could have told us," Draco muttered angrily, glaring at Harry
through slitted eyes.
"We wouldn't have told anyone!" Theo hissed. He didn't look as angry as Draco did,
but then again, Draco did love to be the centre of attention and know everything
before anyone else did.
"What the fuck?" Harry murmured, more to himself than to his friends because they
weren't listening. Draco was already off on another tangent, even as Harry tugged
him out of the busy corridor and into an empty classroom. "I didn't put my name in!"
"Course you did! Why else would you ask me to help you with an ageing potion?
Obviously it worked then, but you could have said something sooner! You left the hall
and everybody was like, oh Draco why didn't you tell me! Do you know how
embarrassed I was to admit that my best friend, my future step-father, hadn't even
bothered to tell me what was going on! I had no idea Harry, no idea. How dare you
embarrass me like that!" Draco wasn't shouting, because Malfoy's didn't shout.
Instead his voice was low and cold, his eyes narrowed and the words were almost
akin to hisses. Harry flinched at the sound of them, because it wasn't like Tom or
Voldemort or a snake: it was the sound of his friend's anger and it was a horrible
sound.

"It was Voldemort!" Harry did shout though, and both of his friends flinched violently.
Theo even fell back into a table, stumbling to keep his balance. "I didn't enter the
Tournament. The letter you read, Draco, to 'prepare myself', remember? That was
from Voldemort. Evan was in the Hall when my name got called, he was sitting on
Alastor Moody, and they were together in the back room where the other champions
were waiting. I brought my name on parchment and I brought the potion and I tried
and it failed. Ask Fred or George Weasley, they were trying to get past the age line
too and it failed, Draco. Evan did it. He must have, because I bloody well didn't."
"Maybe it was his revenge for you not telling him about being engaged to Lucius?"
Theodore suggested, straightening his tie. He looked up at Harry through his fringe.
"I didn't know about the engagement either. Some Ravenclaw I am, I don't seem to
know anything!" Harry was the one scowling now.
Theo chuckled softly and Draco scuffed his shoe on the floor, trying to school his
face into a mask of nonchalance. "Well, never mind that then. Tell me what
happened when the Weasel twins tried?"
And just like that, Harry realized, everything was ok again. He was still a champion,
and he still didn't want to be, but his friends believed him. That evening, Harry
attempted to catch up on the three days' work he'd missed because of the whole
accidently-being-a-champion-thing. He'd found himself a quiet corner in the library,
ignoring the snickering and whispering around him, and the finger pointing and the
blatant staring and the way everyone stopped talking if he happened to walk passed.
But it didn't matter either. What mattered was Hermione, who entered the library with
a scowl, who glared at the group of gossips sitting at the table beside his own, and
then who sat silently beside him.
"Would you like a copy of my notes?" She asked softly after a few moments.
"Yes please." She smiled at him, and Harry couldn't help but smile back. He wouldn't
trust her, not completely, not with all of his secrets. But this one he could let her in
on, and then everything would be ok. "I didn't do it. It was-" Harry wasn't sure who he
was going to blame. Half of him wanted to say Fred, another half wanted to blame
Moody who was working with Death Eaters, as preposterous as that sounded
because he was an Auror and he hated Lucius and Draco and seemed to like Harry
who wasn't known widely as Voldemort's heir, but he never got the chance to point
the finger at anyone.
Hermione smiled softly again and said, "I know, Harry. I never doubted you for a
minute."

XXX
November 13th 1994.
Harry had received two letters that morning. One had been from Sirius. It had
contained exactly what Harry had expected it to. Congratulations for pulling such a
fast one, for getting one up on Dumbledore, Karkaroff, Maxime and Crouch
combined. Followed quickly by the need to know he had done it himself, because
otherwise they'd have a lot more to worry about than strained international relations
between the schools. If it wasn't Harry, who might it have been? Did Harry had any
ideas, would Harry like him to kidnap him from school and lock him in a Gringotts
vault just to be sure?
Harry had rolled his eyes several times while reading it, but Sirius had managed to
cheer him up rather well. He should have saved that letter till last, because the
second one was a demand for his presence at the weighing of the wands ceremony
that evening. Harry found himself instead hiding out in the Gryffindor common room
with Hermione, because no one would look for him there, avoiding the ceremony
completely.
Evan had written a few days ago, denying his involvement specifically, but
confirming that these actions had been Voldemort's wishes. He had been there
merely to oversee the end result of their scheming. Well, Harry thought, not quite the
end result, that would come later, whatever the man was planning. Evan had,
however, included some condensed notes on what exactly he had been signed up
for. As he hadn't volunteered, the general consensus being he had been coerced or
impersonated for one reason or another though Dumbledore didn't seem to want to
share his conclusions, Harry wasn't bound by the same rules as the others. They
had to go to every Tournament related event. Harry only had to participate in the
actual tasks.
No one in Hogwarts had deemed fit to tell him that however, because if they had he
might have gone, just to be civil. But instead they'd rather lie to him, force him to
stand in front of crowds of people who had turned on him in the blink of an eye and
that wasn't even including that dreadful reporter he had met a few nights ago. Rita
Skeeter was a piece of work, and Harry wanted to do everything he could to avoid
her again.
"I had a date with Viktor Krum. It was a study date only, but still, I thought it was
nice." Hermione said softly from beside him. "Are you going to the ceremony?"
"No. You?" Harry glanced at her, tilting his head to the side.

"No. I think I'll study." Hermione opened a book onto her lap. "You can stay anyway
though, Harry."
"Thanks." Harry pulled a sheet of parchment from his bag, and leaned over
Hermione to snag one of her spare quills. It was self inking, which was great
because he hadn't brought any with him.
-Dear Sirius,- he wrote, trying to make sure his writing was legible. It was hard to
write with a quill on a thin sheet of paper across his knees, but he was managing.
-I did not, in fact, enter my name into the Goblet. Unfortunately, the judges
have decided that I have no choice but to participate. The Headmaster has his
own theories, though he has declined to share them with me, perhaps you'll
have more luck considering he, Remus and yourself seem to be such good
friends? I have an idea, of course, what kind of Ravenclaw would I be if I
wasn't constantly over-thinking things and driving myself mental? But I think
I'll keep it to myself as well; actually I'll tell you if you promise not to tell!
Remember Moody? He's mental. He told me I'd make a good Auror and he'd
like to give me extra lessons and then my name came out of the Goblet.
Coincidence? I think not. But don't worry, I'll keep an eye out for myself, I
promise.Harry stopped writing. He laid his quill on the sofa and glanced down at his letter.
Now that he thought about it, that couldn't be a coincidence. Moody was meant to be
a good guy... but he was with Evan both times Harry had spotted his dad. Did he
know who Evan was or did Moody think it was Tennyson Alfred who was perched on
his dinner plate? It wasn't because Moody wanted him to be an Auror though, it was
too much to plan, too many variables: bringing back the tournament, making Harry a
champion, getting a teaching position, giving extra lessons"there had to be more at
stake than Harry's future career here. The end game had to be something far more
spectacular, something to kill for. But it couldn't be Voldemort, could it? Not Alastor
Moody, one of the greatest Dark Wizard catchers there was?
Harry opened his mouth and closed it again. Maybe the man was under the
Imperious? It could be something as easily explainable as that, and Harry was sitting
around conjuring mad-dramatized-conspiracy theories.
Moody was involved. No doubt. The question was why.
-Sirius, the next Hogsmeade weekend is the twenty-first. I have a date with
Lucius, but I can meet you before hand if you wanted to see me? I miss you.And he did. He missed Sirius, and mentioning Lucius made him realize something

else. He had never told Sirius who he was seeing, let alone that he was seeing
anyone to begin with. If Evan had been annoyed at not being told about the
engagement, Sirius was going to be impossible! The man probably wouldn't even
want to see him, Harry realized. He picked up his quill again with a sigh.
-I know you're probably angry about what was in the Prophet. I'm sorry I didn't
tell you. I really like Lucius, I love him and I know I'm fourteen and you
probably think I don't know what I feel,etc,etc, but I do love him. And he loves
me. But I know you don't really get on, even though he helped free you from
Azkaban and I wasn't sure how serious things were going to be between us or
even if you and I would get on and I didn't want to put a strain on either of our
relationships! I'm getting married, Sirius, and I'm really happy about it. I hope
you can accept my relationship. I would understand though if you didn't want
to speak to me anymore, but I'd be sorry if that were the case. If you don't want
to meet me next Hogsmeade weekend, could you at least let me know?
Thanks.He didn't sign his name, because Sirius would know who the letter was from. For his
own peace of mind, Harry hoped his godfather wrote back soon.
"Hey, I'm going to go find Hedwig. I'll see you soon."
Hermione looked up with a grin. She put down her book and walked him to the
portrait hole. "I'll go with you. That way, you'll have someone to hide behind if Mr
Crouch or the Headmaster finds you."
"I don't need to hide behind anyone!" Harry argued with a laugh. "I'm not hiding from
anyone."
"Really? So you weren't hiding in the Gryffindor common room for the last hour and
a half instead of attending a ceremony in your honour that you really don't want to
attend?" Hermione asked as they walked along the corridor. Harry reached out and
tugged her against his side. He was attempting to rub his fist against the top of her
hair, but she wiggled out of the way to fast and they ended up in some sort of
awkward hug. They both huffed and laughed and pulled away grinning, before Harry
reached out to bump her shoulder lightly.
"I'm not hiding." He insisted.
"Sure." Hermione smirked at him. "Sure."
XXX

November 14th 1994.

Two things happened that morning that really caught Harry's attention. One was
something personal, something private, and the other something that everyone
seemed to be privy to except Harry, because he had been distracted by the first.
Sirius had written him back. Harry was so pleased by any sort of response that he
had immediately pushed aside his breakfast and started reading the letter, ignoring
the rest of the Great Hall.
"Sirius can't make the Hogsmeade weekend; he has something to do at Gringotts.
But he said he'd gotten permission from Dumbledore to stay a bit after the first task
to talk to me then." Harry grinned at his Slytherin friends. They glanced back at him
warily, holding up a copy of the Prophet each. Harry took Draco's copy, having
completely missed the rest of the owls entering the hall, so caught up in Sirius'
response was he. "Oh what now?"
This time, the front page of the paper had been split between two separate pictures.
One was of Hermione and Viktor on what obviously had been their date. They were
sitting side by side, holding hands, even as Hermione read from the text book spread
across her lap. Viktor couldn't take his eyes off her. The second picture was of that
awkward moment in the corridor yesterday, when Harry had tried to noogie
Hermione and they had ended up hugging. The angle of the photo, however, made it
appear as if they were about to kiss, and Harry scowled down at the article about
"the gold-digging Mudblood Granger playing the famous Messers Viktor Krum and
Harry Potter against one another in the vicious game for her heart... as if competing
together in the Tournament enough excitement."
"How the hell did they get a photo of that?" Harry muttered.
"More importantly, did Skeeter forget that you're being Courted to a Malfoy? Draco,
your father is going to kill her." Theo stared at the paper with wide-eyes. "You weren't
really going to kiss her, were you, Harry?"
"Granger?" Draco scoffed, "don't be absurd. These are both obviously falsified ph-"
"Oh they're real," Harry told his blond friend with a grin. "Doesn't mean what Rita
wrote about it true though. But Hermione and Viktor are dating, that bit is true. The
bit about me isn't though. Girls aren't really my thing, and I prefer blondes, one in
particular, as well you know. Can't believe she forgot about Lucius, she was the one
who leaked our relationship!" Harry twirled the platinum promise ring around on his
finger. He smiled at the memory of his almost heart attack when he had opened his
mail one morning and a ring had dropped out. It wasn't an engagement ring, he

couldn't legally be engaged until he had turned fifteen, or marry until he was sixteen,
but the Courting usually took a year or more anyway so that didn't matter. All Lucius
had really been doing was staking his claim on Harry, and in the most dramatic
fashion he could at the time. By dropping a ring right into Harry's stunned hands in
front of the entire student population of Hogwarts. "Can't believe she forgot."
"I don't think she forgot. She just wants a story, Harry. It's stupid, really." Theo said
with a shrug.
"Gossips," Draco spat, glancing down the table at Pansy who had already begun to
spin wild stories. "They're all the same."
"Well," Harry whispered leaning forward, "at least Skeeter gets paid for it."
"Doesn't that make her a whore?" Crabbe asked, butting into the conversation.
"Different occupation, Vince," Draco explained easily, almost entirely used to his
bodyguards-slash-friends' less than capable mental abilities. "But they're both
equally as wretched."
"Bet you won't be saying that in a few years' time, when you're stuck with pansy and
your only other options are your hand or a whore."
"Theo!" Harry exclaimed, laughing softly. Draco scowled furiously, his face turning a
deep red before he glanced away angrily. "Leave him alone before his face
explodes." Draco's glare was quickly turned on him, but Harry couldn't stop himself
from laughing. Then he shuddered, because the thought of Parkinson was enough to
terrify even him, who would never end up married to any woman, let alone her.
"If you're done finding amusement at my expense, very unimpressed with your
behaviour mind you, we have classes to get to." He stood, followed by Crabbe and
Goyle and swept angrily away from the Slytherin table. Theo and Harry scrambled
after him, still chuckling amongst themselves, but they followed him anyway because
Draco would be unbearable if they didn't give him back at least a little of his dignity.
"Think we should leave a seat for Pansy?" Theodore asked. He didn't dislike the girl,
he had known her since childhood and considered her an acquaintance, she was still
clingy and nosy and irritating. But it was just so much fun to wind Draco up.
"Yeah, right next to Draco."
"I can hearyou!" Draco glanced over his shoulder, peering at them from between the
two larger Slytherins. "And I am not impressed! Don't you dare let her sit beside me,

do you hear me! Potter, Nott, are you listening to me? Stop laughing! Stop it!"
Draco stormed into the classroom. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, staring
moodily at the wall until the seats either side of him were filled. He glanced left and
then right, at Harry and then Theo, and let out a sigh of relief. "I hate you both."
Harry grinned back at him, and Theo shrugged. "You know you love us." Draco
scoffed.
The classroom door slammed open and shut again, and a gruff voice called Harry to
stand at the front of the class. "Who wants to learn about the Cruciatus?" Alastor
Moody asked, grinning manically, with his wand levelled at Harry Potter. "Well, any
volunteers?" It was a full class of fourth years again, and once more Longbottom
looked like he was going to faint. "No? Nobody? Well, go ahead Potter, volunteer
somebody."
XXX
Thanks for reading. I have it all worked out! I hope (well, I haven't come across
anything you've mentioned in reviews so far that I haven't accounted for in my notes,
thanks BOOMrobotdog lol: best sounding board ever). But...
We need to talk about the sequel. I have some ideas, but I'm torn on one thing in
particular. Voldemort/Harry? We all know Tom has a complete obsession with Harry,
and there are hints of one-sided Voldemort/Harry in this already, but Tom will be
back in the sequel (preliminary notes, don't hold me to it), and Voldemort will want
Harry. Choices are... (and this will be in a poll on my profile, so vote, so I have stats
to work from) Voldemort 'loaning' Harry, because Lucius is really going to say no to
the Dark Lord, scoff (again preliminary notes), or not threesome cause I don't see
Voldemort going for Lucius, but I do see Voldemort wanting to possess his Horcrux
(narcissistic bastard) but Lucius/Harry and Voldemort/Harry at different times. Lucius
and Harry will still be getting married though, that won't change. Le sigh: decisions,
decisions.
EDIT: um, what is with everything in bold or italics loosing the spaces between
words?

Chapter 43
Firstly, what happened to The Silver Snitch? It's been down for weeks! Secondly,
what is up with FFNet removing the spaces between words if they're Italics or Bold?
It was very annoying having to put spaces back into Harry's letter from the last
chapter. Very annoying. Is this a new thing that'll be permanent?
Getting the tattoo this Friday coming for certain, so see you all when my wrist is well
enough to type again :P
Words: 4,274
Chapter 43
November 21st 1994. Hogsmeade.1
Harry wasn't sure what to think of the place. It was nice, he supposed, but it was a
little too much at the same time. Couples were seated at tables dotted around the
establishment, and streamers and silk hung as decorations from the walls and the
ceiling and the balcony that circled the left side of the room. The stairs to the second
floor was covered in tinsel and rose petals, and Harry frowned thinking how much
worse this place would look on Valentine's Day.
"Seriously?" He asked Lucius, turning his head to glance over his shoulder as the
elder Wizard tucked him, chair and all, into the table.
Lucius sat himself down, carefully pulling his chair in. He offered a half smile.
"Despite the news of our Courtship travelling at a speed even I did not predict, I am
still forbidden from taking you off of school grounds. As this is a Hogsmeade
weekend, I can meet you here, but it is as far as we'd go. The choices are rather
limited, beloved." He reached out for Harry's hand, lifting it to his mouth and pressing
a soft kiss to his palm. "Here, the Hogs Head, or the Three Broomsticks.
Alternatively, we could have just stocked up on candy and hidden ourselves away in
the Shrieking Shack."
"So much choice, Lucius!" Harry exclaimed with a laugh, "so much choice, and you
chose Madame Puddifoot's? How romantic."
"Hmm, I do try," Lucius said with a drawl, half-smirking up at his Harry. "What would
you like, beloved? My treat."
"It'd want to be," Harry said, wearing a grin that clearly showed he was only messing

around, "considering it's a treat in itself for me to be here." He glanced around the
room again, taking in the jar of fireflies suspended from the ceiling, half a disco ball
and half a light fixture, the waitresses who wore bright pink dresses with red robes
over the top and lace and bows in their hair, and the several Hogwarts aged girls
who alternated between giggling at Harry and giggling at their own partners.
"Seriously?"
"Hush, you'll have a good time, I promise."
It was half an hour later, as Harry worked his way through a rather large portion of
treacle tart, that Lucius covered his mouth with one hand and whispered through his
fingers. Harry frowned, narrowing his eyes as he tried to make out what Lucius was
saying. The hand was there so that no one could lip read, and he was whispering so
that no one would overhear, and Harry thought for a moment it was something to do
with Voldemort, but then he heard it. It was the only two words he could make out,
and perhaps they were the only two words Lucius was saying, repeated over and
over.
"Task" and "dragons".
Harry heard it, and his breath caught in his throat, along with the treacle tart he had
been about to swallow. He coughed, wheezing and hacking, even as Lucius moved
around to stand behind him and pat him gently on the back. "What?" He breathed at
the elder Wizard. "What the fuck?"
"I'll get the cheque. Stay here and stay silent," Lucius whispered. He returned
moments later, with a complimentary desert in a take-away box because his waitress
had insisted on making up for the terrible treacle tart that had almost poisoned Harry,
and his purse a few Galleons lighter. "Time to go."
Lucius steered Harry from the tea-shop, his hand on the small of Harry's back.
"Well, damn. How did you know?"
"Evan," was all Lucius would tell him. Harry shrugged, not sure what to do or say to
that. Though he supposed if Moody could help him cheat why couldn't his own
father, or his fianc-type-person? What did he call Lucius, he wondered briefly,
glancing up at the man through his fringe. They weren't engaged, not yet, not until
the summer, but that was what the man was aiming for... intended? Lucius had
already coined beloved as his pet word, so what did that leave Harry? Lover?
Boyfriend, he thought with a grimace; it didn't sound right at all.
Love?

"Lucius?"
"Yes, beloved," the man whispered, looking down on the boy he planned to marry
with a small smile.
"Was this a Courting gift?"
"No," Lucius said, chuckling. "This is a date. A bad one, I admit, but there's always
room for improvement, hmm. I'd hate to out do myself the first time and never be
able to live up to your expectations!" They laughed together, walking hand in hand
through Hogsmeade in the lightly falling snow.
"I love you!" Harry blurted, a blush fanning out across his cheeks.
"I know. And I love you too, beloved, why else would I wish to marry you? For fame?
I am infamous. For family? I have a wife and an heir already, beloved, but I would
rather have you. For fortune? I have gold and knuts more than I know what to do
with. For friendship? Well, that one would be a definite, as well as companionship."
"I don't know," Harry whispered, turning his face away from Lucius' piercing grey
eyes. "I'm so young, and I haven't even graduated yet. I must seem pretty useless
right, in comparison to some of the people you know?"
"You are brilliant, and brave, and beautiful. One of the strongest, smartest people I
know, no matter your age. The way Evan tells it, you've even managed to wow our
Lord, and that is a feat in itself. He is not easily impressed, nor am I. Perhaps at first,
it was a fascination to learn about you, about the Horcrux. It used to call out to me,
it's magic and my magic would beg to be one, caressing and tempting me, but you
were so young. Then you grew. I watched you grow year after year, age and mature
and develop, and your magic never, never stopped calling to me. But it was no
longer just about your magic, Harry. You were an amazing person, blossoming in
front of my eyes, and there was a sickness inside of me every time I thought of that
one person who would capture your heart. I wanted you. I needed you. I think, you
were twelve-years-old, no, I knew, you were twelve and it was the day I found you
with our Lord's journal in your hand and I knew I never wanted to see harm come to
you. It was that day I knew I loved you, for you, not for what you could offer me. I
love you, Harry James Potter Rosier."
"There's a 'Black' in there somewhere," Harry told him, his face split in half by the
size of his grin, and both cheeks flaming red.
"Yes, and soon to be 'Malfoy'." Their mouths met, hot and heavy, with hands tugging
at each other's clothes and hair, lips bruising and teeth nipping, and Harry moaned

wantonly, as Lucius pressed a thigh between his own and began rubbing upwards
slowly.
"I love you, Lucius." He whispered when they finally broke apart. They had gathered
a bit of an audience, and as they pulled apart a handful of people began clapping,
smiling softly at the scene before them.
Ron and Ginny stood side-by-side scowling angrily. "Oi, Potter! Cheating on
Granger, are we? Not very nice of you, is it?"
"Oh honestly!" Hermione muttered, pushing her way through the crowd to stand
beside Harry and Lucius. "They are Courting, Ronald, as in they plan to get married.
Harry has not, nor ever will, be involved with myself. I'm with Viktor now."
"How is Vicky?" Ron asked snidely. "Getting over you cheating on him with Potter
yet?"
Harry reached out to nudge Hermione. The girl rolled her eyes, shaking her head
lightly. "Ron found me and Viktor studying together. Apparently, the idiot decided he
wants to date me and has been a little prat since."
"He's always been a prat." Harry told her. Hermione and Lucius both fought back
smiles, but Ron and Ginny both turned red, scowling furiously.
"Shut up, Potter! You think you're so great, well you're not! Course Hermione doesn't
want you; look at you, all chummy with a Death Eater. You're pathetic. It's
disgusting."
"Mr Weasley, I dare say that is enough. You may want to bite your tongue before you
go too far." Lucius placed on hand on Harry's shoulder, squeezing gently as the boy
tensed beneath his hand in anger.
"You- You- Don't fucking talk to me, Death Eater!" Ron's hands were balled by his
side, shaking as his body vibrated with anger. His face was puce now, horrible and
ugly. "And you!" He said, turning on Hermione, as jealousy came to life in his chest.
First Harry didn't want to be his friend, like Dumbledore said he would, then Harry
chose Malfoy's family over his family, and now the girl he liked chose Harry and then
Viktor fucking Krum over him. It wasn't fair, and now a Death Eater (a filthy, boot
licking servant of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) was telling him what to do, like he
had to follow orders. He wasn't a servant. Ronald Weasley was better than that, and
Harry and Hermione both would see it, eventually! He'd make them see it. "Just
because you're a Mudblood doesn't mean you can get away with acting like a whore.
No one will want to marry you if you keep it up!"

Ron didn't get a chance to say anymore. He was sitting on his arse in the snow,
surrounded by a gaping crowd, as Hermione drew back her fist and blood dripped
from the end of Ron's nose.
"You punched me."
"You insulted me." Hermione answered coolly.
"You know, if you were a Pureblood," Lucius whispered, "you'd be within your rights
to have him arrested. It's slanderous, the comments he's made about you. Libellous,
in fact. Tut, tut, Mr Weasley. I did warn you to bite your tongue."
"He's not worth it. Come on, Harry, you and Lucius can join me in the Three
Broomsticks. I'm meeting Viktor now." She cast one more look at Ron, who was
slowly getting to his feet with his sister's help. Harry looked back at them as well,
smirking slightly at the dirty look the two redheads sent his way. "Viktor wants to
meet you."
"Oh!" Harry gasped, before reaching out to hold Lucius' hand. "I can give him the
'hurt her and I'll hurt you' speech."
"No, you can't."
"Yes I can, Mione!" Harry exclaimed. "It's what friends do."
"We aren't friends," she told him primly, trying not to laugh. "According to the Prophet
you're my ex-boyfriend, and threatening Viktor would be completely out of line."
Harry glanced at Lucius, who merely rolled his eyes, unaffected by the lies the
Prophet were spewing. "Maybe I want to scare him off so I can have you all to
myself? Or maybe I want you to dump Viktor for Ron?"
"Merlin forbid," Hermione mumbled, pushing open the door to the pub. Harry
chuckled, following her inside with his hand firmly in the hold of Lucius'.
"Good date?" The blond asked with a raised eyebrow.
"The best," Harry whispered, raising his head for a quick kiss, just as the door closed
behind them.
XXX
November 22nd 1994.

The forbidden forest got quieter as Harry made his way closer to the exit of it. It was
almost as if someone had put a silencing charm over part of the area, which was
probable considering what was being hidden within it. Dragons did make an awful lot
of noise after all.
Hagrid continued to wave until Harry was out of sight. He had always been fond of
the boy, even though he wasn't a Gryffindor and he hadn't gone after the
Philosopher's Stone, and he was friendly with Malfoys. Harry was a good kid, and it
was like Alastor said, it wouldn't be fair if everyone knew about the dragons but
Harry, him being so young and all. He didn't even want to compete, he didn't want to
be part of the Tournament but someone was making him, and imagine, Alastor had
said, if Harry died in the first take because he didn't know about the dragons even
though Hagrid could have told him.
Well, Hagrid thought, grinning widely, waving his pink umbrella in front of him lightly.
Harry knew now.
Harry himself was just coming up to the castle when Moody came into view. He
stepped out of the shadows, one leg stumbling slightly, made of wood and unable to
bend where the knee should have been.
"Good night, Potter?" Alastor asked, his tongue flicking out to wet the edges of his
mouth.
"Not bad, considering." Harry answered him, glancing over his shoulder at the forest.
"Learn anything interesting?" Moody asked, with a grin that bared most of his teeth
at once.
"Points for effort, Professor. But I already knew. Thanks anyway."
Harry went to walk passed the man, but Moody reached out to grab his arm, asking,
"how did you know?"
"I'll keep my secrets," Harry whispered, as he pulled his arm free. He glanced down
to the flask Moody wore on his hip and grin, "and you keep yours. For now."
Before Alastor could reply, Harry was gone. He ran to the castle, and in through the
front doors, slipping down the corridors like a ghost with help from the Marauder's
Map, before entering his own Common Room.
Luna Lovegood was waiting for him on the couch in front of the fire. "Dragons, huh?"
She asked him.

Harry didn't bother asking her how she knew that, instead he smiled, shrugged and
said, "Dragons."
XXX
November 24th 1994.
Hermione had wanted to help him practise for the task. Draco and Theo had even
offered, but it was Luna, who had stopped by the Slytherin table the night before the
task and whispered "just be yourself", that had helped him the most. He had spent
that day and the day before practising everything he could find that would help him
against a dragon, but after Luna's comment Harry found it a lot easier to relax, to
keep calm. Instead of running to the library again, like Hermione wanted, Harry went
straight to Hagrid.
Now, this morning, as he was frog marched between two redheaded twins to the
newly erected stadium where he was expected to fight against a nesting dragon, he
felt much more prepared than he ever had in his life.
"We still need to talk, Harry," Fred whispered into his ear. Both twins kept a tight hold
on Harry's arms, waiting crushed together at one corner of the Champion's tent, until
the order of their appearance was decided.
"Can't it wait?"
George looked over at Bagman and Crouch, who were frantically summoning the
Champions towards them. "Suppose so, but you can't avoid us forever, Harry."
"But I can try." He shrugged off their hold, offering each of them a small smile, and
made his way towards Bagman who was holding out a wiggling pouch that released
smoke every now and then.
"Only one left, my boy," he told Harry, grinning widely as he held the bag out further.
Harry pulled the Hungarian Horntail, and he would be going last.
Cedric, Viktor and Fleur were all in similar states of dishevelment when it was finally
Harry's turn to compete. Even Fleur, who was determined to hate Harry for stealing
what should have been her spotlight as the odd-Champion-out, looked at him with
sympathy as he took a deep breath and stepped out of the tent.
Lucius and Evan were in the crowd, with his friends' grouped around them, Lucius'
wife and Severus Snape. Alastor Moody was waiting for him beside the judges, and

he nodded sagely as Harry took a deep breath and jumped into the pit with the
Horntail. The creature was chained up, in front of a small nest of eggs each the size
of Harry's head and one egg that shimmered and glowed like metal in the light.
The dragon roared as it spotted Harry, taking an earth-shaking step towards the
threat and drawing its head back. Before it could spit fire, Harry did what Luna had
told him to do. He spoke.
2"Don't attack me. I'm here to help you." He hissed at the dragon. The creature
reared back, as if struck, and she watched Harry through unblinking eyes for a
moment.
"You Speak." The Dragon snorted, the words sounding muffled, as if they were
talking through a medium, or with very heavy accents.
Dragon-speak wasn't the same as snake-speak, but they were close enough that
certain words and phrases would be understandable. If Harry spoke slowly, carefully,
the Horntail would understand what he was saying. Now, all he had to do was appeal
to her instinct to protect her young, without enticing her to destroy the intruder in the
process.
"The ones who took you, who brought you here," Harry hissed at her, cringing a little
as she roared, "WIZARD", and blew fire at the sky. "Yes, the Wizards who brought
you here. They wanted to test you, to test us. This is a game to them, and if we pass
you may return home. But your clutch will not, unless I pass."
The dragon tilted its head to the left, lowering herself down, so that she was hunched
before Harry, her face to his face. If she attacked him now he was dead, there was
no question of it, and he could hear the crowd screaming for him to run because
from where they were standing no one could hear him speaking. To the crowd it
looked as if he were just waiting to die. Moody could hear, as could the judges,
because they were all close enough to the pit, and the boy and the dragon. Alastor
narrowed his eyes, jealousy crossing his features quickly as he wondered whether
his father knew, whether that was why Harry Potter was favoured above all others,
instead of him? It had once been him. Then the dragon let out a puff of smoke and
flame, right into Harry's unflinching face, and Moody lunged forward in fear. If the
boy died... There would be hell to pay. Albus Dumbledore pulled him back, keeping
him at the tableside, frozen with fear and anger. But Harry was ok.
"Explain!" The Horntail hissed back at him, her tongue flicking out to lick the soot off
of Harry's un-burnt face.
"There is an intruder in your nest. That one there, the shiny one. When it hatches, it

will eat your eggs before they can hatch and protect themselves. My task is to
remove it without you killing me, and yours is to kill the real intruder, the egg, before
it kills your young. The Wizards are using them for sport, uncaring that it puts your
young at risk, that you might not spot the real intruder until it is too late, or that I
could die." Harry paused, folding his arms across his chest and raising his head up,
trying to appear brave. "I am here to help you."
The horntail didn't speak again. Instead, she stood, walking back to her nest in
silence, and laying down, curled around the eggs. She watched Harry a moment
long, smoke leaving her nostrils with every breath. "Well, come take the intruder."
She flicked her tail at him and away again, almost like the dragon version of crooking
a finger at someone. Harry obeyed, slowly walking towards the clutch with both
hands held unthreateningly in front of him. He made a grab for the egg, and backed
up hurriedly before the Hungarian Horntail changed her mind. The egg was pressed
tightly against his chest, his arms wrapped around it in a desperate attempt to keep
his arms from shaking. He might have been prepared for idea of it, but it was still a
daunting, terrifying experience. He had faced a dragon, head on, and had come out
unharmed. That was more than the other Champions could say for themselves. "Get
out of my sight, and destroy the intruder. Tell the Kin we wish to go home now." Harry
followed the dragon's gaze, landing on the handful of Wizards who had brought the
dragons to England in the first place, Ron's brother Charlie, was in the middle of
them.
"Yes, my lady. Thank you." With the egg in hand, Harry climbed out of the pit and
stumbled over to the judges.
Each judge was watching him warily, except Karkaroff. That Wizard gazed at him as
if he were the devil incarnate and his hands shook as he held up the enlarged
parchment with the number "4" on it. That was Harry's lowest score. Dumbledore
and Bagman had both given him a "10", even though Dumbledore's usual twinkle
was absent from his blue eyes.
"But you did do very, very well, my boy," the old man had told him after giving him his
score. "Even if I disagree with the methods."
Crouch Sr. had given him a "9", and so had Madame Maxime, both looking pale and
surprised. But since, as Evan had told him, the Champions winning tactic was
exactly that, something that helped them win, no one could speak about it to a
competitor until the competition was over. So none of the head teachers could talk
amongst themselves about it, or to their competing students, and no one could talk
to the press, or to the Ministry officials involved or otherwise. It was the main reason
Harry had decided to go ahead with this plan, after Luna had brought it to his

attention. No one could talk about him being a Parseltongue; no one could bring up
the reminders of his second year: no one needed to know. And he still came out the
winner of the first task with "42" points, to Viktor's "40" in second place.
"By the way," Harry leant over the table to whisper, "the Horntail said to tell Charlie
Weasley that she wants to go home now."
Harry ignored the ravenous look on Moody's scarred face, and turned away from the
table to head back into the tent where Madame Pomfrey was no doubt waiting for
him. The best part about the Oath surrounding the Tournament? Moody couldn't run
off and tell Voldemort his secrets before Harry could. They were Harry's secrets, and
if the man thought he had been mistaken in second year, then who was Harry to
correct him. Not until he was ready for Voldemort to know. It certainly wouldn't be
Alastor, or whoever he was, Moody's place.
XXX
November 30th 1994.
Dobby arrived at Hogwarts that day. He just popped into the Great Hall, and fell into
the deepest bow anyone had ever seen a house elf preform.
"Dobby is being a gifty to the great Harry Potter sir, from Dobby's master, master
Lucius sir. Dobby is hoping yous accepting him!" And then the elf lunged forward and
wrapped his arms around Harry's legs, sliding under the bench the boy was sitting
on. And it was a good thing Harry was sitting, because Dobby effectively locked his
legs together and Harry would have fallen over otherwise.
He remembered Dobby. Dobby used to collect his things from the Hogwarts Express
and bring them to Malfoy Manor or Privet Drive and then come back for Draco's
belongings. Dobby would greet Harry first, before Lucius or Narcissa or Draco, his
owners. Dobby would happily do anything Harry asked him to, who would warn him if
he thought something was dangerous even if it went against Lucius' orders or
Harry's own. Dobby who was, sort of, Harry's friend, and now his house elf.
"Master Lucius sir is wanting to get rid of Dobby. But Dobby is happy, because now
Harry Potter is being Dobby's master sir!" The elf cried from his place on the floor
beneath the Slytherin table, still hugging Harry's legs.
There was a letter on the floor where Dobby had been standing, and Harry
summoned it to his hands and read it quickly.
Apparently, Dobby was a Courting gift. Dobby was a Malfoy elf, who would risk his

life to defend his family even if he didn't like them, which he didn't. But he liked Harry
and he was bound to Harry and to the Malfoy's because he was gifted and not freed
and it would offer Harry twice the protection this way, just in case Harry needed it.
And because Lucius remembered how fond of Dobby Harry had been when he was
younger, never getting angry at the nerve-wearing elf, never getting annoyed, who
always treated Dobby as if he were wanted.
"Thanks Dobby, you can stand up now. Go home, and tell Lucius that I'm very
pleased with you, and I'll call you back when I need you, ok?" Dobby slid from under
the table, offered a wide grin and a low bow, and disappeared from the Great Hall.
"You know you have to free him, don't you, Harry?" Hermione hissed from behind
him. She had snuck over to the Slytherin table as Harry was reading the letter from
Lucius, and before he could defend himself, she began another lecture on house elf
rights. The rest of the table tuned her out, but because Harry was her friend, he was
obligated to at least pretend to listen. So Hermione made herself comfortable beside
him, and he nodded his head every now and then, in between taking bites of his
breakfast.
XXX
1 " ah, the date of my hospital appointment that I've waited over a year for. I bet
they'll tell me there's nothing wrong with me again, after x-raying the wrong place.
2 " FFNet readers, imagine this is in BOLD. Thanks.
Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think. This chapter was terrible. I
just could not write it, and I can't type today. I'm missing every key, like, wtf! Ugh.

Chapter 44
EDIT: I forgot to ask. If anyone has facebook please like this link? It's for my dad's
work. Thanks. www dot facebook dot com /pages /Wendells-Holborn
/100143900085735 ?sk =wall
Hello everyone! Thanks so much for reviewing! The tattoo went well: I can type and
work, but strangely hanging curtains and screwing up curtain poles doesn't agree
with my wrist. Hmm. well, that was written ages ago, along with the first 200 words of
this chapter that I JUST COULDN'T WRITE! Did the next chapter of Through-theLooking-Glass though, but it's with my beta, so be patient!
This chapter is for Ceciluv at FFNet for their review on the 28th October! Can't
believe you've read this WIP three times already!
Words: 4,202
Chapter 44
December 10th 1994. Hogwarts.
Transfiguration, much like Potions, was usually the one class that no one ever spoke
during. In Potions, the silence was generally a result of 'fear of Snape syndrome', as
the Hufflepuffs had termed it or in the case of only the Slytherins respect for their
Head of House. But with Professor McGonagall's class no one spoke because she
had the hearing of a cat, that being her animagus form, and she always heard you. It
was a shared self-preservation instinct, known not only to Slytherins in this case
alone, because nobody wanted the rest of the class knowing what McGonagall might
overhear them talking about. And McGonagall certainly had no qualms about sharing
if you happened to be the one disturbing her class.
But today, the room was nowhere near silent.
It was unusual and unexpected, and Harry glanced around at the Hufflepuffs and
Ravenclaws he shared his Transfiguration lessons with. Everyone seemed to be as
excited as their neighbour, chattering and giggling amongst themselves as
McGonagall stood stiffly at the front of the classroom being ignored. He supposed he
could understand their excitement in this instance, because it wasn't every day that
Hogwarts held a Yule Ball. Harry wasn't fond of dancing, though he did like a good
party as much as the next person, so he figured he could just go with his friends, or
Luna maybe, because she wasn't fond of dancing either, and they could talk and
drink punch and laugh at his classmates as they tried and failed to waltz.

He probably wouldn't have gone at all, except that the Champions had to be there.
And then he would have gone alone, because Lucius probably wouldn't be allowed
to date Harry on school grounds, but apparently the Champions had to lead the first
dance and Harry was bad enough at dancing without trying to do it on his own.
Especially with the whole school watching. Definitely not with the whole school
watching! Harry could only vaguely imagine the utter humiliation that would follow
such a moment, and even then his fantasies were vague and the reality would be
much, much worse. So Luna it was, he told himself, glancing up at McGonagall as
she finally called the class to order.
It was silent in Transfigurations now, but teenagers were still shooting each other
what they hoped was inconspicuous looks and smiles. Harry and several other
Ravenclaws paid attention, Stephen Cornfoot being the only one who was caught
not doing so, along with some Hufflepuffs. McGonagall's patience had taken a
battering by the time the class ended and so had Hufflepuff's house points, but Harry
didn't mind that so much, because everything they had lost he had made up for with
his perfectly transfigured tea cup, for his own house that is.
Harry made his way to the Great Hall alone. He was usually alone these days, since
he only shared a few classes with the Slytherins and Luna was in the year below him
and Hermione was already engrossed in studying for the end of year exams.
Everyone else in the school still seemed caught up by the fact that Harry wasn't the
real Hogwarts Champion, even though he was a champion for Hogwarts. He had
come first in the First Task, but that still wasn't enough to redeem his so called
betrayal of Cedric in the eyes of his peers. Not that Harry cared: he didn't actually
spend much time with his peers, and certainly not with his own housemates.
"Hey guys," he greeted softly, taking his seat between Draco and Theo who were
already eating. "What do you think of this ball then?" Harry helped himself to some
potatoes and mixed veg, being extra careful to avoid the peas in the bowl.
Theo shrugged, swallowed what was in his mouth and then sighed. "I don't know. It
sounds like fun, but I really don't want to have to find a date."
"Hermione will probably go with Krum, unless Rita's articles turned him off her
completely. I was thinking of asking Luna, what about you Draco?" Harry glanced
over at his blonde friend who was chewing slowly and methodically, apparently not
listening to the conversation at all.
Draco pushed away from the table, and stepped over the bench. He stood directly
behind Harry, his arms folded behind his back. With a soft blush on his pale face the
blonde held out one hand, slowly, hesitantly, and grasped hold of one of Harry's.

"Will you do me the honour of accompanying me to the Yule Ball, Harry?"

"Oh right!" Theodore chuckled, "completely forgot about that. How far are you in
those Courting books Lucius sent you, Harry?"
Harry tried to tug his hand out of Draco's grip, but his friend wasn't letting go. "Not
very far, why? I've read bits and pieces that seemed relevant but that doesn't explain
why Draco is asking me out. Unless you want to go as friends?"
"Harry, you can't go to functions or anywhere that could be considered as 'date-like'
while you're Courting somebody, unless you go with that family." Theodore nodded
his head at Draco, who was still clinging to his hand and waiting patiently for a
response.
"Lucius is my father. In his stead, I wish to accompany you to the ball, Harry, if you'll
accept my company that is."
"Oh," Harry said softly, giving a small nod of agreement. "Well, I definitely didn't read
anything like that. Supposed I may give those books another look over, right? Yeah
Draco, I'll go with you."
"You honour my family and myself," Draco told him primly. He let go of Harry's hand
and gracefully slid himself back onto the bench. "Plus, Pansy asked me to go earlier
and I told her I was already bringing someone, so you didn't really have a choice. I
would have forced you to go with me if you'd have said no." Draco allowed the
corner of his mouth to lift up, and Harry glanced at him with a scowl, eyes narrowed.
"You're such a lovely friend." Harry told him sarcastically.
"I am, aren't I?" Draco puffed his chest out, like a peacock, and looked down his
nose at Theodore and Harry. "You're both lucky to have me." He steadfastly ignored
their resultant snickering.
XXX
December 19th 1994.
Lucius hadn't planned for his meeting with Dumbledore to run on so long. It was
meant to be a simple, brief chat between the two of them concerning Harry's safety
during the Tri-Wizard Tournament and the legalities of forcing Harry to participate. In
the end, Lucius had ended up waiting for a lawyer to arrive, for Crouch Sr. to give his
two-knuts on the issue and then for Dumbledore to insist they share a spot of tea. It
was almost midnight and undoubtedly Harry would be in bed. Or, if he was awake,

he would be in the Ravenclaw common room and not with Draco, so Lucius was out
of luck either way.
Fortunately for Lucius, Harry had taken up the habit of trying to figure out what was
so strange about Mad-Eye Moody, and had taken to tailing his adventures on the
Marauder's Map. So far, he seemed to be able to be in two places sometimes, but
whenever Harry had snuck out to check there was only one of him. Just one. So he
figured the magical eye must have a signature of its own, or the wooden leg, since
they were both a part of Alastor and if the man took them off perhaps it fooled the
map into thinking there were two of them? Harry was actually about to check out that
theory, on his way to Moody's office first and then to Snape's potions storage
cupboard because those were the two places on the map with 'Alastor Moody'
written on it.1
It was fortunate that Lucius did not leave Dumbledore's office until so late, because
as he was making his way out of the school he ran straight into Harry and knocked
the boy's invisibility cloak right off of him.
"Lucius!" Harry said, grinning widely up at his lover.
Lucius reached down to help the boy up off of the floor, tugging him closer so they
were standing chest to chest locked in the circle of Lucius' arms. "Hello beloved, it is
good to see you."
"You too. What are you doing here?" Harry leant up, stretching his neck to place a
soft kiss on Lucius' jaw.
"I had to speak with the Headmaster. But, I was hoping to run into you. I had lost
hope of doing so until you literally ran into me," he told Harry, a grin curling his lips.
"Sorry about that," Harry mumbled, looking up at the blonde through his fringe.
There was a small smile on his mouth too and Lucius' grin only got wider.
"Enough of that now, beloved. As it is almost Yule, and I have been informed that I
cannot visit you for Yule, at least not officially and certainly not to the ball, I may have
to give you your present early." There was a strange twist to Lucius's lips now and it
made Harry feel suspicious even as his cheeks turned red.
"You don't have to, Lucius, you can wait and owl it if you want."
Lucius chuckled. He took Harry's hand in his and began pulling him back the way the
blonde had come. Harry followed him without complaint, glancing at the man's back
in curiosity. "It's not the type of gift one can owl, beloved. The rest of your gift will be

sent by owl-post Yule morning, but this one, this is something just for us." Lucius
glanced back at him over his shoulder, mouth stretched up and eyes bright and
Harry felt something bubbling in his stomach. Anxiety, or arousal, or excitement, he
wasn't sure which, but it was there and it was strong and wild within him and his
chest started heaving as he tried to decide what exactly Lucius was implying.
He didn't have long to think on it, because Lucius found the closest empty classroom
he could and shoved Harry inside of it. After locking and silencing charms had been
cast, Lucius turned them, so that it was Harry pushed up against the door with
Lucius trapping him there. Their lips met, hot and wet and furious and Harry lost his
moans into the cavern of Lucius' mouth. Harry found his hands scrambling
alternatively between Lucius' shoulders and the door behind him, fighting
desperately for some purchase whenever his legs felt like they would give out under
him.
Lucius tore himself away from Harry's mouth, choosing instead to trail wet, open
mouthed kisses down the column of Harry's throat, and then up across his jaw and
cheeks. Pales fingers glanced down Harry's sides, curling in at the boy's waist
tightly, possessively, for a moment before drifting further, pulling at the zip of Harry's
trousers.
Harry gasped as Lucius managed to slip his hand inside the waistband of the
trousers. "What?" He questioned, breathless and dazed.
"Trust me?" Lucius asked, his breath coming in soft pants against Harry's cheek.
Harry didn't say anything else, choosing instead to reach down to loosen the belt he
wore, helping Lucius fit his hand further inside. The trousers slipped down his hips,
pooling there until Lucius tugged at them, dropping them to rest around Harry's
ankles. The blonde kept his hand in Harry's boxers, lightly stroking over the boy's
erection as Harry panted against his chest.
"I love you," Lucius whispered, glancing right into Harry's eyes as he said it. They
kissed again, before Harry could respond, and Lucius used that distraction to divest
Harry of his boxers. Naked from the waist down, the boy trembled lightly, from the
cold and from nerves, but he looked up at Lucius with wide green eyes full of trust.
"I love you too," he said. "Is this my present?"
"Are you enjoying it?" Lucius responded with a question of his own. Harry nodded
his head, and Lucius sank down to his knees. "Good," he whispered, one hand still
on Harry's cock and the other pinning him against the door by his hips.

Harry watched enraptured as Lucius moved forward, almost in slow motion, until his
cock disappeared into the blonde's mouth. It was unlike anything he had ever
experienced before. Sure, he had touched himself, and Lucius had touched him, and
hell Lucius had even put his mouth on him before but never like this, in public, in
school and the thrill of being caught ran through Harry's very being making him
writhe and gasp as Lucius swallowed around him. He clenched one hand in Lucius'
blonde hair, pulling strands of it out of the neat bow that was meant to hold it at the
nape of his neck. The other reached behind him, clutching the doorknob with
strength he didn't realize he possessed as he fought to stay upright. All the while,
Lucius continued to suck, wet and warm against his throbbing erection, occasionally
taking him into his throat and swallowing like a pro before pulling back to gently lick
the tip like a kitten sipping cream.
Harry moaned, long and loud as Lucius reached down to tug softly at his balls. That
hand moved after a moment, one fingers skimming down along his perineum eliciting
soft gasping noises from Harry as the blunt nails traced over sensitive skin. The
finger was gone then, just as Harry was getting used to the feeling, and the next time
Lucius swallowed around his length, the finger pushed forward, passed the tight ring
of muscle and into Harry's arse. The boy gave a shriek, hips jerking away from the
door and towards Lucius' face and the man's finger prodded at his prostate. Once he
had found the spot, Lucius refused to move from it. He had to use his free hand to
press Harry to the door, or risk being choked: he had to hold him harder than he had
been before, and he scowled up at the boy in warning, the message mostly lost in
translation and at the sight of Lucius' pale pink lips stretched wide around Harry's
cock as green eyes watched entranced.
Without lubrication, Lucius kept his explorations to a one-finger limit, lest he hurt his
lover, but he used that one finger to the best of his capabilities. It wasn't long after
penetration that Harry jerked sporadically in his grasp, eyes wide and mouth open as
he released a low keening sound that had Lucius own dick twitching in his pants.
The pureblood swallowed everything Harry had to offer, before pulling away and
wiping delicately at his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He remained on his knees,
watching smugly as Harry sank down to the floor, boneless and exhausted. The
teenager smiled at him, face flushed and chest heaving, with Lucius hand still
against the crack of his arse. They separated their bodies, Harry with a wince and
Lucius with mounting disappointment, already feeling the loss of Harry's tightness
and warmth.
"Wanna do that again?" Harry asked shyly, glancing down at the obvious bulge in the
front of Lucius' trousers.

The blonde raised his eyebrows, quite surprised by the suggestion because in all of
their encounters Lucius had been the one to pleasure and he rather enjoyed that roll.
But since Harry was offering...
"If you are uncomfortable, at any time, tell me and we'll stop. Understand, beloved?"
Lucius hand unfastened his own trousers, pushing them past his hips, but left them
on his thighs. He allowed Harry to push him back until he was lying flat on the
ground and then he closed his eyes, ready to lose himself to sensation; his last sight
was of Harry crawling towards him, still naked from the waist down and licking his
lips hungrily.
XXX
Lucius walked him back to Ravenclaw Tower; memorizing the route for the next time
he felt the need to seduce Harry afterhours. Neither saw Severus watching them
from the shadows as they left the abandoned classroom, nor the subtle spells the
Professor shot Harry's way, checking to make sure the boy hadn't been injured while
alone with the notorious blonde Death Eater. Well, Lucius noticed, but he made no
show of having done so, instead allowing Severus to slip away satisfied that Harry
was safe.
"Here we are," Lucius whispered his lips against Harry's as he spoke. "I'll see you
soon. Enjoy the ball and make sure my son behaves himself."
"He'll probably spend the whole night hiding behind me in case Pansy is around."
Harry chuckled, and then frowned lightly. "He doesn't really have to marry her, does
he?"
"No," Lucius said with a snort. "Of course not. But she is stubborn and persistent,
and may I say it, in a continuous state of denial. I admit, I find too much pleasure at
Draco's expense, so please don't tell him, hmm, beloved? Let him stew a little
longer?"
"You're a cruel man!" Harry told him, laughing lightly and pushing at Lucius' chest.
"But I love you."
"And you, beloved. Now, to bed with you."
Lucius waited until Harry had answered the riddle correctly and the entrance to the
common room appeared before he turned and walked away. Luna was waiting up for
him, curled up on one of the couches by the fire.
"Hello Harry," she whispered softly when she spotted him. "I would have so loved to

see that. A pity Mr Malfoy won't be escorting you to the ball." Harry gaped at her for
a moment, wondering how she knew who he was with and wondering if she really
knew what they had been doing. "You make a beautiful couple and I bet he's rather
lovely with his clothes off." She told him, just before she stood and left him alone,
stunned, in the common room.
She was a strange one, was Luna, but she was slowly becoming someone he'd call
a friend. And Harry was ok with that.
XXX
December 25th 1994.
Draco met him at Ravenclaw Tower, resplendent in his dress robes and with his hair
gelled back. Harry took his arm in his, walking linked like that the whole way to the
great hall with Draco one step ahead of him, as was fitting of the escort. Lucius could
walk beside him, while touching, and his friends could walk beside as long as they
weren't touching, but Draco as a member of the Malfoy family holding his arm like
this and heading to a dance had to distinguish himself from the Courted couple. So
he walked a little ahead of Harry, drawing attention away from the boy who was
firmly off the market and onto himself instead. Draco loved the attention of course,
and Harry did love not being the one being stared at like a circus freak, but that only
lasted until the doors of the hall opened and Professor McGonagall shoved him
inside for the first dance.
Harry should have entered last, as the youngest, but as Draco had rather rudely
pointed out at the dance rehearsal two nights ago Harry was the only one engaged
to be married, and as such took his status from the dominant partner. Lucius
happened to be the oldest out of the contestants or their partners or dates, and so
somehow Harry found himself being shoved first into the hall with Draco a step
ahead of him again. The blonde recovered easily, twisting Harry around so that they
were face to face, arms coming to the brunette's waist and hand, before leading him
straight into the waltz that Professor Flitwick was already orchestrating.
Viktor was next, with Hermione on his arm, looking beautiful in her pink dress,
followed by Cedric and Cho, and then by Fleur and a boy that Harry vaguely
recognized as being from Ravenclaw.
The first dance lasted longer than it had in the rehearsal, but everything went well
until the music was just winding down and Ginny Weasley appeared on the dance
floor. It would have looked like she was simply preparing to dance the next song, but
she had arrived on her own. Her date, whoever he was, was nowhere in sight.

"Harry," she said with a smile, placing her hand over Harry's and pulling it out of
Draco's grip. "Dance with me."
She didn't give him much of a choice in the matter. As the music started up again,
Ginny tugged Harry against herself and tried to make him lead her around the floor.
Draco watched flabbergasted, slowly turning a horrible shade of red in anger, and
Harry tripped over his own feet twice before he managed to get her rhythm right. She
was leading the dance, while trying to make it look like Harry was leading, and it
wasn't working in the slightest, and what was worse was that she kept letting her
hand slip down to fondle his arse. Every time she did it, Harry jumped a little and
ended up tripping again.
The dance was only a few seconds in when Harry was pulled back against Draco's
chest and three Slytherin boys had their wands trained on Ginny Weasley's head.
Draco, Theo and Blaise scowled angrily at the redhead, who glared right back at
them.
"Do you mind, Malfoy? We were dancing."
"No," the blonde drawled, "Harry was dying a little inside, and you were... I don't
know, what do poor weasels do at extravagant events? Make a show of themselves,
I suppose?"
Blaise and Theodore had come to the party single, neither of them bothering to ask
out any of the girls in Slytherin because they all already had dates or would read too
much into it (like Pansy did whenever Draco so much as glanced in her direction).
Just because Harry was happy to be getting bonded as soon as he was old enough,
didn't mean they all were. But since they were single, they didn't have to worry about
abandoning their dates to come to Harry's defence the moment Ginny overstepped
her bounds.
"Keep your hands to yourself. You've read the Prophet," Blaise hissed, "You know
he's off limits to you."
"That paper is known to lie! Imagine, Granger with Harry or with Krum! Ha, it was
obviously all lies and I know better than to believe that Harry would feel anything for
a bastard like your father, Malfoy." Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. She reached out
a hand towards Harry's, who jerked it back in anger at the insult to his lover. "Come
on, Harry!" She told him firmly, rolling her eyes at his stubbornness. "Oh," she
whispered softly, glancing over their shoulder at Hermione who was dancing
gracefully with Viktor Krum. "I don't believe it," she whispered.
Ron Weasley was sitting beside the punch table, his date frowning at him heavily but

he didn't notice because he too was watching Hermione and Viktor. But Ginny didn't
see her brother, because as her eyes sought him out in the great hall they fell first on
Luna, who looked lovely in her orange dress robes, despite the colour. She was
dancing slowly with Neville Longbottom, the boy pale and blushing and obviously
having been approached by Luna and not the other way around, but Ginny's eyes
narrowed into slits and she shoved past Harry and the Slytherins towards the girl
who was trying to steal her date.
"Luna can look after herself," Harry told them, and not a second later Luna had
cursed Ginny, sick of listening to the redhead shouting at her. Draco chuckled,
before holding his hand out to Harry again.
"Care to dance?" The blonde asked, with a soft smile at his friend.
"I don't really like dancing," Harry told him, shrugging softly. He led Draco towards
the punch, ignoring Ron's not-so-subtle staring, and poured them both a cup each.
"Neither do I really. Let's go talk to the others."
"You and mingling," Harry chuckled with a roll of his eyes. "It must be a snob thing."
"Oi!" Draco shoved him lightly, though he did take the offered cup of punch with
thanks. "There's no need for such stringent abuse, Harry. I did save you from the
weasel remember?"
"Your good deed for the decade, yeah?" Harry grinned at him, the corners of his
mouth pulling up and making him look beautiful.
Draco rolled his eyes, but it was easy to see what had his father so fascinated. Harry
had been his friend first, and if he swung that way he probably would have been just
as in love with Harry as Lucius was.
"See if I ever do anything nice for you again," he said with a scowl, the corners of his
mouth twitching so that his apparent anger fooled no one, and he pulled out a chair
at the table his dorm mates were using. When Harry sat, Draco tucked the chair
back in, before taking his own seat.
"That was nice of you," Harry couldn't resist saying, teasing his friend lightly.
"Shut up." Draco snorted, "And drink your punch."
XXX

1 " It is my belief that when he is Polyjuiced it says Moody, and when he isn't it says
Crouch.
Thanks for reading. Here's hoping you all review again. 2,000 reviews before I finish
the story? Doubt it- but I can hope! :P
I hate being sick. Just saying. And I hate being cold.

Chapter 45
Hey all. Again, I know it's been a long, long time, but expect more time lapses until
the end of March at least. See the bottom of my FFNet profile, or the last non-fiction
post at LJ for more info (though I doubt anyone cares about my issues).
Please enjoy and review.
Words:2,604
Chapter 45
January 16th 1995. Hogsmeade.
Hogsmeade was always busier than usual when the Hogwarts students were set
free from the castle. But that was to be expected, and the owners of the shops and
pubs of Hogsmeade were appreciative for the extra business, of course they were,
but the teachers who ran to the Hogs Head or the Three Broomsticks to escape the
students weren't exactly appreciative of students turning up around them. Hagrid, for
example, was perfectly content (no, that wasn't right; he was desolate, horrified,
embarrassed and angry) but he was fine right where he was, sitting in a booth in the
corner of the Three Broomsticks crying over his pitcher of Butterbeer. He didn't
appreciate the handful of students who stood around his table gaping at him,
glancing worriedly at the other students and then back at him.
Hagrid liked him, Harry knew. Hagrid had been friends with his parents, and if there
was anyone's pity Hagrid would appreciate it was his, but Harry didn't really fancy
sitting around crying into Butterbeer, or any beverage really. Plus, his father was
waiting for him. With a nod at the Gameskeeper, who didn't look up in time to catch
it, Harry walked to the other side of the pub and slid into a booth opposite Tennyson
Alfred.
"Why's he so upset?" Harry asked, nodding back at the elder Wizard's direction.
"Oh, there was a rather nasty article in the Prophet outing his mother as a giantess.
As if anyone could believe he was fully human." Evan muttered, taking a sip of his
coffee after the first sentence.
Harry could understand that. The man was certainly large enough to be a giant's
offspring, still runt-ish when compared to a real giant of course, but his father was a
human. Lots of people had magical creature blood though, so Harry didn't really see
what all the fuss was about, unless the article was particularly scornful, in which

case. "Did Rita Skeeter write it?" He asked, sighing loudly when Evan nodded.
"She's a cow."
"Language." The Death Eater chided, narrowing his eyes lightly until Harry
apologized softly.
A waitress approached the table shortly after, taking both of their orders and jumping
slightly when Hagrid let out a particularly loud cry, blowing his nose into his
handkerchief. Harry glanced over his shoulder at the giant and frowned, "I feel sort
of sorry for him," he said after the waitress had left. "But at least it's not me this time.
Skeeter hates me for some reason."
"She doesn't hate you. She just knows you make for good sales, Caen."
"I suppose."
The food came shortly after, and they made general small talk as they ate. Evan
asked after Harry's classes, his friends, the Yule Ball. Harry asked after Lucius, their
Lord, and Evan's work. They talked about their general health, and Harry asked for
tips on the third and second task.
"He hasn't told me anything about the tasks, child. And if He had, why would I tell
you when I've always been a firm believer in you working things out for yourself? You
learn better that way."
"I know, I know," Harry sighed, rolling his eyes as he spoke. "But I have this silly egg
and all it does is screech at me, and it's supposed to give me a clue so I can prepare
for the next task! At this rate I'm just going to go deaf."
Evan glanced down at Harry's lap, where the pockets of his robe had overlapped.
"Do you have it with you?"
"Nah, it's in the dorm. Not like anyone will actually want to open it anyway, so it's
safe enough."
At the table beside them, a middle aged Witch appeared to be eagerly
eavesdropping on their conversation. Harry hadn't noticed, but Evan had, and he
grinned widely, his eyes still fixed on Harry's pockets and thus his crotch. "How often
do you take it out?" He asked his voice low and husky.
Harry frowned at him, confused by the tone of his voice. Evan was playing a game of
some sort, but Harry hadn't quite caught on yet. He felt his eyebrows creasing
together as he answered, "not often, why? It's just so... frustrating. I prefer to just

ignore it really."
"Ah, I see." Evan was still grinning, and the woman at the table beside them was
leaning over her tea cup to better hear them. It was, after all, the famous Harry
Potter sitting right beside her. "Well, then, there's only one thing I can suggest."
"What's that?" Harry was still confused, but he had by now noticed the elder woman
listening in on them. Whatever Evan said next would be for her benefit and not for
the Tri-Wizard Tournament, he knew, but he wasn't able to guess what Evan might
imply regardless.
"I suggest taking it out and getting it... wet."1 Evan told him, looking quite serious. He
folded his hands under his chin and took great pleasure in the look of horror that
crossed the woman's face, though his own expression didn't change. She turned
fully away from them, disgusted at their topic of conversation, and Harry wondered
how talking about the golden egg could be taken in so bad a context. And then it
dawned on him.
"EVAN!" He hissed, narrowing his eyes at his father even as the occupants at two
other tables turned to see what he was shouting about. "That's disgusting!"
"What?" The Death Eater asked innocently, "I was only trying to help, Harry. And it is
a known fact that Mermish is unrecognizable out of water, so I don't know why you
look so horrified. Really!"
XXX
January 21st 1995. Hogwarts.
Cedric Diggory was a Hufflepuff. He was a nice enough guy, handsome, with lots of
friends, and apparently he was the real Hogwarts Champion. But he was still taking
the time to explain to Harry how to make the golden egg work. Or, he would have
been, if he could get the boy alone.
His friends had followed him out to the grounds, where Cedric had originally escaped
to with Harry so they could be alone and no one could accuse him of cheating. But
now they were surrounded by five other boys, a mix of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws,
and Harry glanced between each of the elder boys amusedly.
He knew what Cedric was doing, and he appreciated the effort enough that he didn't
want to break it to the Hufflepuff that he already knew it had something to do with
mermaids and that he would only understand the clue if the egg was opened under
water. The problem of course was that Harry didn't have access to a large body of

water. There was the prefect's bathroom, but he didn't know where that was, and the
showers in the Ravenclaw dorm didn't allow for flooding and Hermione had assured
him that Gryffindor was the same, and he knew Slytherin was too, so he couldn't
even keep the shower running long enough to build up enough water to crouch
under. He could hardly jump into the black lake randomly, especially with the way
Viktor Krum went jogging passed it twice daily. He didn't want to help the other
champions, even if they wanted to help him.
That still left him without a place to open the egg. He had been heading to Hagrid's
when Cedric grabbed him. The egg was in his bag, and Harry had been hoping that
Hagrid would have had a pool or something to water the animals from, and that it
might have been deep enough to stick his head in for a while. But maybe Cedric had
a better idea?
"I'm sorry!" The Hufflepuff suddenly said, as one of his friends grabbed his right arm
and another the left one. "I'm really sorry, Harry." Then they dragged him back
towards the castle.
With a roll of his eyes, Harry turned and began down the sharp incline that would
lead him passed the lake and to Hagrid's hut. He didn't notice Alastor Moody
watching him from behind one of the pillars in the walkway, nor did he notice the
dark looks the ex-Auror was throwing Diggory's friends. Harry was just about
resigned to the idea of sticking his head in a pig's trough or the Wizarding version of
such if one existed, when a tripping hex caught him by the left ankle and he tumbled
face first into the shallows of the black lake. A second spell followed, leaving Barty's
wand mere seconds after the first, but this one wasn't aimed at Harry. It was for
something in the lake, and as Harry scrambled to his feet with a dirty look for anyone
who happened to be watching, one tentacle lifted out of the water and wrapped
around Harry's waist.
He managed to cry out once, before the giant squid pulled him out into the lake and
under water. He fumbled for his wand, pointing it unnecessarily at the creature that
let go the moment Harry's head was submerged. He glanced around, holding his
breath and trying not to panic. But nothing else attacked him, and as if by divine
intervention, the golden egg floated free of his bag and opened up right in front of
him.
He listened, occasionally pulling himself above the surface of the water to take a
breath before the giant squid would pull him back under again. Once he had heard
the clue through three time, the squid grabbed him again and began pulling him back
to the shallows were it left him alone and soaking, just as Moody reached down to
drag him out by the collar of his ruined robes.

"Professor?" Harry sputtered, rubbing water out of his eyes.

"You alright, Potter? Nasty slid you had there."
The egg was still clutched in Harry's hands, and Moody's eyes were fixed firmly on it.
There was something green and slimy sticking out of the edge of Moody's pocket,
and Harry glanced down at it, recognizing it after a moment as something he had
learnt about in one of this 'extra' Defence classes. Why would Moody need
gillyweed? And where could Harry get some?
XXX
January 30th 1995.
-Dear Professor Snape,
I know you don't like me, in fact I'd safely say you hated me with every fibre of
your being. But Lucius Malfoy is your friends. I'd hazard a guess and say he is
one of your only real friends, and you would do an awful lot more than you'd
admit to keep him in good spirits, like anyone would do for real friends, for
family, right? Well, if I die in this Tournament, Lucius would be very upset.
Distraught. Inconsolable, etc. You get the idea. The point being that, in this
instance, helping me helps secure your friends happiness since we are going
to get married eventually and I plan to make him as happy as I could possible
manage.
You're probably wondering what I want at this point, that is, if you haven't
already burned this letter. But, well, I was wondering if you had any gillyweed
and if I could get some off of you? I'd ask Professor Moody, but well, after his
stunt last week he's kind of freaking me out a little.
If you don't have any, that's fine. But if you do and you don't give me some and
I drown and die, I hope you know Lucius will be very upset with you. And I'll
haunt you, just so you know.
Regards, Harry Potter-Black.Harry blew over the parchment for a few minutes, before deeming it dry enough to
roll up. He handed it to Hedwig, who was perched patiently on the windowsill of his
dorm room. Luna was sprawled across his bed, reading one of his fourth year
textbooks upside down, but she looked up at him once Hedwig had taken flight.
"I hope he doesn't burn it."

"I hope he doesn't poison it." Harry said in response to Luna's soft exclamation.
Luna smiled at him, a half twist of her lips that made it look less sincere than she
intended. "Well, you can only wait and see, I guess, Harry. But, if you die at least the
Humdingers can keep me company. Though," she said after a small pause during
which Harry stared incredulously at her, "I would miss you, I think. It's been nice
having a friend."
"It is nice having you as a friend."
"Will we still be friends when the Dark Lord comes back and starts making you kill
people like me?" She asked, looking completely serious.
"People like you?" Harry asked, because he wasn't sure what else he could say.
"On the light side. Father was very anti-Dark Lord during the first war."
"This war will be different," Harry told her, completely serious. "There'll be no
needless murders, no genocide; he'll be the way he was before the madness, before
the Horcruxes, before it all went wrong. I promise." Harry took her hands in his and
squeezed them lightly. "No one is going to hurt you."
"Hmm," she said softly, smiling up at him widely. "Ok." Then she frowned,
"Horcruxes, that's a strange word. Does it mean something nice?"
Harry snorted in amusement. "Not really, but I'm banking on me being one to
convince the Dark Lord to do things right this time. My dad says He likes me, so
maybe he'll listen to me? On some things at least?"
"Oh. If He likes you, I suppose he might. After all, you wouldn't marry someone who
was less than equal to you, and if you're equal your opinion counts as much as his,
right?"
"Marriage?" Harry chuckled, looking as confused as he felt. "This is Voldemort we're
talking about, not Lucius, you know."
"My mistake," Luna whispered, though she didn't look very mistaken. Instead, she
grinned widely at him, before turning back to her upside down textbook and refusing
to speak for the rest of the night. At least, until Professor Snape wrote back.
-Potter,
As much as it loathes me to do you any favours, Lucius wrote to me only

moments ago, requesting my services as a courting gift to you. I will be

teaching you how to duel. Properly. Not that disgusting farce of an example
you were privileged with in your second year. Do well, and I won't have to
explain to Lucius how he wishes to bind himself with a useless waste of
oxygen. Do exceptionally, and I'll give you some gillyweed.
I will contact you once my schedule is confirmed. Do not expect me any time
soon. You're lucky I agreed at all.He didn't sign it, but Harry knew just from the acerbic tone of the letter who it was
from. Not to mention, it was written in response to his own letter to the man. Harry
handed it to Luna, who read it quickly and then folded it up into the shape of a swan
before placing it on Harry's bedside locker.
"That sounds fun," she said, still reading the book.
Harry sighed, "Yeah, I'm so lucky. Thanks Lucius."
"Yes, maybe you should write him and thank him?" Luna suggested, "He obviously
had to do a lot of bullying or begging to get Professor Snape to agree to tutor you."
"Well," Harry said, grabbing a clean sheet of parchment out of his bag, "at least I
won't be the only one suffering during these lessons. Just looking at me might be
enough to give the man heart failure."
XXX
1 " Anyone else LOL at that scene in Being Human? Between George and the
werewolf who turned him, at the dinner? If you didn't get it, it's season 1 episode 2 I
think.
Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought and I'll try update around
Christmas, since work is closed and I'm off for Boxing/Stephen's Day, yay.

Chapter 46
It wasn't as long a wait as usual. Wow. Really should be studying for these exams,
but I'm not. I suck, I know. I really should go do Through the Looking Glass now,
but I won't do that either because Amazon delivered a load of manga to me this
morning, yum, yum, yum.
WARNINGS: the middle of this chapter is (finally) the slash that you have all been
waiting for. Harry is still only fourteen, so, anyone who dislikes the idea, feel free to
skip the whole middle of this chapter.
Words: 5,431
Chapter 46
February 9th 1995.
"Confringo!" A jet of fire exploded from Snape's wand, and Harry threw himself
hurriedly out of the way. He crashed to the ground, rolling with the impact and
scurried to his feet, all the while panting heavily. His wand was still in his pocket,
having been given no chance to pull it out. Snape taught duelling as he taught
potions, sink or swim. "Try again, Potter. Try using magic to defend yourself.
Deprimo!"
Harry jumped behind a tree, eyes widening and breath catching in his chest as four
of the branches that were hit simultaneously dropped away from the tree trunk, the
edges dissolving as if acid had been poured upon them. "You didn't give me a
chance to!" Harry shouted back, poking his head out from behind the tree just as
Snape shot a purple jet of light at him, something Harry had seen Evan use during
his and Lucius' 'mock-training duels'. It was a spell a Death Eater would cast, and
the two men had attributed the creation of it to a man named Antonin Dolohov,
whoever he was. Harry was sure the affects wouldn't be pleasant.
"You must always be prepared, foolish boy. Do you think the Dark Lord would be
willing to wait while you search for your wand, or browse your feeble mind for any
spell or action by which you could protect yourself? Of course not. Expulso!"
Snape was scowling at him; Harry didn't need to be able to see him to know that.
The potions master was probably feeling rather put out by these lessons. It was the
second one this week, of being forced to spend time with Harry Potter without the
opportunity to deduct house points, all because of Lucius who had requested and
been granted duelling lessons from Snape as a courting gift for his lover. The first

lesson was a half hour lecture about posture and wand movement and Snape being
nothing like Lockhart, (who while being possessed by Voldemort taught their second
year Defence class and still managed to make a mockery of duelling, according to
Snape at least. Harry thought it was more to do with Voldemort releasing a snake
accidentally on the students and then refusing to believe that Harry could be a
Parseltongue just because a few students had heard him but the man hadn't).
This lesson was pure madness. At this rate, Snape would kill Harry before
Voldemort, Dumbledore, or anyone really got the chance to. Maybe, Harry thought
as he finally found a moment to fish out his wand, that was Snape's plan all along.
Maybe Snape would pin it on a centaur, or Voldemort, or a house elf or something
and just leave Harry's corpse to rot in the forbidden forest all alone?
"Evanesco!" Harry shouted, casting his first spell of the night. It didn't quite have the
expected result, but it was one Harry knew he could cast well having been practising
since he was eight. The spell worked well, brilliantly in fact, but instead of vanishing
the professor as Harry had hoped, it had only vanished the man's robes.
Clad in socks, shoes and his boxer shorts, Severus Snape glared viciously at the
tree that hid his most hated student, the son of the woman he loved. Surely,
somehow, this had been planned. There was no possible way Potter had
accidentally made all of his clothes disappear, knowing there could be no
consequences to the house point system. Snape snarled, thinking of another way to
punish the boy.
Harry peeked around the tree again, eyes growing wide at the sight of so much bare
skin. He was man enough to admit he screamed, just a little, as a jet of orange light
came at him, preceded by Snape screaming, "Flagrate!"
The tree caught on fire, and Harry unwillingly scrambled out from behind it, no longer
hidden from Snape's wrath. "It was an accident?" The boy offered with a slow shrug,
holding his wand out before himself, hands shaking.
"Is that so, Mr Potter?" The man drawled as he took several steps closer to the
teenager. "And how would Lucius feel if I was to tell him you had stripped a man who
was not your fianc of all of his clothes while alone in the privacy of the forbidden
forest, with no witnesses, no attendants, no Draco Malfoy to play the familial
replacement? How would he react, I wonder."
"It's not like that at all, and you know it! You're just being a bastard- oh!" Harry
slapped his hand over his mouth, dropping his wand in the process. "I'm sorry," he
mumbled through his fingers, because he wasn't supposed to curse, especially not

at an adult.
Snape choose that moment to prove he was a sneaky, underhanded Slytherin.
"Stupefy," Snape called, eyeing the boy's wand which was on the ground at his feet.
Harry didn't have time to jump out of the way, this time, but on instinct he threw out
his hand and cried, "Protego". The spell bounced off the shield Harry had cast, and
in his hand the holly and phoenix feather wand hummed idly, waiting for its next
command.
Snape wasn't sure if the boy had Accio'd it under his breathe, wandlessly, or if it had
been accidental magic reacting for a child in need, or some other untold power of the
Boy-Who-Lived, but whatever it had been, it stunned Potter momentarily and rather
awed Snape as well. The two Wizards glanced at the wand in question, eyes wide,
then down at the ground to where it had been only seconds before, before Snape
looked Harry straight in the eyes. The shield was still in place, and with a flick of his
wand and a whispered, "Finite", Harry let it drop.
"You missed?" Harry asked, more than taunted, though there was a half-grin on his
face.
Snape bowed before him, and after a momentary hesitation, one where Harry
wondered if Snape would hex him in the back as he bowed, Harry returned the
customary action that signalled the start and/or end of a duel.
"Not bad, Potter, but not exceptional either."
Potter sighed, probably expecting that he wouldn't be given the gillyweed, because
after all Snape's letter had stated that the duel must have been exceptional. But
what was exceptional, if wandlessly summoning your wand and simultaneously
casting another spell wasn't?
"Are you happy?" The man asked suddenly, appearing right before Harry in the blink
of an eye. His hands were on the teenager's shoulders, and conjured robes now
covered his frame. "With Lucius, are you happy?" Dark eyes stared intently at Harry,
deep into his own green ones, as if daring the boy to lie to him.
"Yes. He makes me very happy." There must have been something honest about the
smile on Harry's face or the look in his eyes, because Snape didn't ask him to repeat
himself. The man didn't even glare at him. With a flick of his own wand a jar
appeared, hovering in the air between them. There was something green and slimy
shoved inside of it, and Harry recognized it immediately as gillyweed. The boy would
have asked Professor Moody for some, but the last time he had tried the man had

pinned him against the desk and glared at him, licking the edge of his mouth, and
breathing heavily onto his face smelling of lacewing flies and something Harry
couldn't place. "Why do you want to know," he had asked, so Harry hadn't asked
again.
"Take it, Potter, and be gone from my sight. I will owl you when I next have a moment
spare to waste on these pointless exercises." Snape waved his wand again, and the
jar dropped. Harry jumped forward to catch it, almost bumping into his professor at
the same time, though he managed to steady himself and avoid a collision.
"Thank you," he whispered, and then he ran. He didn't look back to see Snape pull
up the sleeve of his robe to glance at his left arm, nor dispel the glamour that Harry
knew hid his Dark Mark. The moment his clothes disappeared, Severus had cast it,
and now he bared it to his sight again, glancing at the tattoo that grew darker and
darker as the year passed by. Then he looked up in the direction Harry had gone
and wondered if he was doing the right thing by Lily to let her son associate with the
likes of Lucius Malfoy, especially now, since it seemed Lord Voldemort was returning
to power.
XXX
February 14th 1995. Malfoy Manor.
It was Sunday and it was Valentine's Day, and Harry had just flooed from Snape's
private rooms to Malfoy Manor. Lucius had sent Harry an invitation for a private
supper at his home, and as the intended in a courtship Harry was the one to set the
boundaries, not his Headmaster. And Harry had very much wanted to go.
Lucius was there to meet him at the fireplace, taking his arm and helping the boy
step out into the atrium. It was late afternoon, around five, and the sun was just
beginning to fight a losing battle with the horizon. Candles were lit along the hallways
of Malfoy Manor, floating in mid-air and nailed decoratively to some walls, and Harry
glanced around with wide eyes as if he were seeing the place for the first time. It
wasn't, he knew, any different to the last time he had visited, or stayed over, or spent
the holidays, but it was at the same time because Harry knew that after this visit
things would be different. He would be different.
Lucius' summons had included the Monday; the day after this one, the night in
between them, the night of Valentine's Day, and the morning after, and what could be
more perfect than the thoughts that were running through Harry's teenaged mind. He
glanced at Lucius's profile as the man led them, arm in arm, to the dining room,
trying to guess what Lucius was thinking, if he was thinking what Harry was,

imagining and hoping and fantasising too perhaps?

Dinner was delicious, but Harry spent the entire meal seated at Lucius' right fidgeting
with his cutlery or pushing his food uselessly around his plate until the elder man had
to order him to eat it. He was too nervous, his stomach too unsettled, and his heart
pounded away in his chest. He knew what Lucius wanted him there for; he knew
what he himself wanted to do that night, so why was Lucius drawing it out? Wasn't
he nervous and inexperienced enough as it was, why was the blonde so determined
to have him faint dead away before the night had even truly begun? Second
guessing himself didn't really help matters, Harry thought, only half listening to
whatever Lucius was telling him.
He had started the afternoon thinking that Lucius wanted to sleep with him, that he
was about to lose his virginity to the man he loved and wanted to marry, and as the
hour passed into six, and then seven, and they remained at the dining table with
Lucius talking and Harry trying not to look a nervous wreck, he began to wonder if
maybe Lucius was breaking up with him. Harry would need to spend the night of
course, to cry and scream and rage and not make a spectacle of himself or the
Malfoy name, bawling all through Hogwarts on the way back to Ravenclaw tower. If
he got it all out tonight, then it'd be safe to let him out in public tomorrow, maybe,
Harry mused. And now the thought was stuck in his mind. Gone were the fantasies
of writhing beneath Lucius tonight, as the man's mouth and hands did things beyond
what he had already experienced. Instead, he could only see himself crying and
begging for another chance, pathetically throwing himself at the man's feet and
pleading for everything, anything, the man had to give him. It didn't help that Lucius
had asked for his ring back, in order to offer it to him properly, personally, rather than
just having it dropped by owl into Harry's hands as he had done. But maybe, Harry
thought, Lucius just generally wanted it back?
Spitefully, Harry wondered if this was Snape's fault, because Merlin knows the man
hadn't been subtle in his dislike of Harry's relationship. But then, maybe it had been
Sirius? Lucius had gotten Sirius out of Azkaban and yeah Harry's godfather wasn't
happy about the relationship or finding out about said relationship through the
newspapers, but damnit they had talked about it, and Sirius had promised to give
Lucius a chance. Some chance, Harry thought angrily.
"What?" Harry mumbled, shaking himself out of his thoughts as Lucius moved
around the table and dropped to one knee before Harry. "That's a funny way to dump
someone," the boy whispered, frowning down at the blonde.
Lucius' eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not recognizing the slang, but
understanding from Harry's body language that he was expecting something bad

rather than good. "Well, if you're this nervous now I'd hate to see you at the bonding
ceremony. I dare to think you'd give cold feet a new meaning, beloved."
"What?" Harry asked again, feeling foolish for sounding so inarticulate.
"The papers have arrived," Lucius said softly, reaching out to take both of Harry's
hands in his. "It's all been finalised, at last. Narcissa will retain the Malfoy surname,
and she will continue to live in this house, but she is no longer my wife, no longer my
Lady. I am, for all intents and purposes, a free man, and I would love to take the
opportunity to ask you, no, beg you, to marry me, Harry James Potter? Say yes, and
make me very happy, my love."
"Yes." A slow smile was spreading across Harry's face, and his heart was once more
pumping with anticipation rather than dread. "Yes." He said it again, and again, and
again, until Lucius had to kiss him to shut him up. "I thought you were having second
thoughts," the boy admitted once Lucius released his mouth, "I thought you didn't
want to marry me anymore, you took so long to ask." Harry wasn't going to admit it
was because Lucius spent three hours on small talk instead of proposing and taking
him straight to bed, but the blonde could probably guess that was the real issue. He
probably had by the smirk that was crossing his face.
"I seem to have gone about this all wrong, beloved. Perhaps next time, I'll seduce
you into my bed first and then slip the ring onto your finger when you aren't paying
attention?" A light flush crossed Harry's cheeks, and Lucius leaned forward with a
grin, dragging Harry down until their lips were pressed together. Lucius remained on
one knee by Harry's feet, his hands on the boy's face and neck, fingers spread to
touch as much of him as possible, and he dropped a soft kiss to Harry's jaw.
"I'd have like that," Harry told him with a smile, allowing one eyebrow to rise daringly.
His breath caught in his throat as Lucius surged to his feet, hands on Harry's waist,
pulling and lifting until the boy was held tightly in his arms.
Lucius tucked the ring box back into the pocket of his robes, not yet having put it on
Harry's finger and the boy having been too interesting in watching Lucius to watch
the ring to notice this. "Then I take it all back, beloved. Let us pretend we are not
engaged, hmm," his mouth moved against Harry's throat as he carried the boy
towards the bedrooms, soft pants of air hit sensitive skin with every word, and Harry
shuddered in his arms.
Harry was dropped onto a large, soft bed, bouncing lightly in place. He watched as
Lucius flicked his wand, and the doors and the windows closed and locked the blinds
drawing shut as well. The lights were on, but Harry didn't glance around Lucius'

room, which he had never seen before. Instead he stared straight at the blond, who
was slowly lifting his shirt over his head, his robes already pooled by his feet and his
shoes having been kicked to some unknown corner of the room. He was standing
there now in only a pair of trousers that had been unbuttoned, and pushed down to
his hips. Harry glanced at the trail of blonde hair that led downwards, then at the
fabric that hid the prize his eyes sought. He had seen it all before of course, but not
here, not in Lucius' rooms, while knowing that they would be doing it, and that made
all the difference. He saw Lucius in a whole new light, still gorgeous and wonderful
and brave and loyal and kind and loving and handsome and fit, but his, completely
his now, as Harry would be only Lucius' after tonight. And Harry was in awe of it all.
"Well, Mr Potter, fancy seeing you here," Lucius drawled, lifting one leg onto the bed
and resting there, legs spread and torso so close but just out of Harry's reach. "What
would your lover say?"
"Why don't you ask him?" Harry laughed, and with that he pushed upwards, wrapped
his arms around Lucius' neck and pulled him down on top of himself. Pinned to the
bed by Lucius' body, his legs pressed in between the v of Harry's thighs and Lucius'
fingers on the buttons of Harry's shirt, the teenager reached up to kiss the elder man
again.
"He's very happy to see you here," Lucius whispered, trailing kisses along Harry's
jaw.
"Is he?" Harry asked, before thrusting his hips up to brush against the bulge in
Lucius' trousers. "And here I thought that was a wand in your pocket."
"Speaking of wands," Lucius murmured reaching for his. With a flick of the wand,
Harry was undressed, shivering beneath Lucius on the bed, and the death eater
grinned down at him, moving lower and lower as he pressed kisses first to Harry's
throat, then his chest, his stomach and his thighs. Harry panted softly beneath him,
spreading his legs wider in invitation, moaning lightly at the first touch of Lucius'
tongue on his cock.
Harry arched his back, hissing softly through his teeth as Lucius swallowed him
whole. It was hot, and wet, and wonderful and Harry groaned in disappointment as
Lucius pulled away after a moment. But then he was back again, his mouth on
Harry's cock, and one finger twirling restlessly around and around Harry's pucker,
pushed in-between the cheeks of his arse. When the finger was inside of him, Lucius
swallowed, and Harry cried out, fisting his hands into the sheets by his waist. They
had used one finger before, inside of him, touching and prodding and caressing him,
twisting in his flesh and stroking that wonderful nub that made him see stars. But

Lucius had only ever used one finger. Never any more.
But today the blonde called a jar of lubricant to him from the bedside table drawer,
and he somehow managed to liberally coat his fingers in the substance while
sucking on Harry's cock. Two fingers pressed into him this time, stretching him and
stinging him and Lucius glanced up at Harry's pained gasp. The teenager offered a
soft smile, unclenching his muscles and nodding for Lucius to continue. And
continue Lucius did, one finger after the other until three were fully inside, and he
could stretch and scissor them as far as was reasonable. His free hand tugged at
Harry's scrotum, rolling the balls in the palm of his hand, while the fingers of the
other hand pressed sharply into Harry's prostate. Lucius swallowed around him once
more, and it was enough: with a cry Harry's back arched and he came, filling his
lover's mouth with himself, and the blonde swallowed again, eyes darting up to meet
Harry's as he sucked the boy through his orgasm. His hands caressed the inside of
the brunette's thighs softly, before one moved to coat his own erection with lube.
Lucius' trousers were still on, pushed down past his hips to free his cock and balls,
but Lucius left them there. Instead, he used the lull, the lack of tension in Harry's
body after his orgasm to slid up the bed and into the boy.
Harry cried out as he was filled, taken for the first time ever. He felt full, too full,
unused to the feeling and the burning that followed the invasion. There was a dull
pleasure thumping just behind his eyes when he closed them, reminders of what
Lucius' fingers could do against his prostate, and thoughts of what his much bigger
cock could do instead, and he forced himself to relax around the flesh that intruded
upon him. Lucius held himself up with his arms on either side of Harry's head,
straining and shaking with the strength it took to keep himself from fucking into
Harry's body, from enjoying the heat and the tightness that surrounded him so
willingly. But Harry needed time. He needed Lucius to wait, and for his first time of all
times, Lucius would give Harry what he needed.
"Now," the boy whispered as soon as the stinging sensations passed. He still felt too
full, like he needed to go to the toilet but couldn't, but as Lucius began to move,
pulling out and pushing back in slowly, and then gradually faster, that feeling passed.
It was no longer about being too full, but about being too empty, and with every
attempt Lucius made to leave his body Harry tightened his hold on him (his arms
around Lucius' neck, his legs around Lucius' waist, his mouth biting down on Lucius'
neck to muffle his cries) trying to keep the elder man inside of him.
Lucius leant down over him, panting into his hair or against his cheek or his throat,
alternating between kissing Harry softly and furiously, nails biting into the flesh of
Harry's hips, his shoulders, and the zipper of Lucius' trousers rubbing against Harry's

arse with every thrust, the friction of it more painful than pleasurable, but Harry met
every thrust with one his own regardless.
"I love you," the boy cried, head thrown back; back arching off the bed as a
particularly forceful thrust struck his prostate.
"Marry me," Lucius whispered, his face against Harry's, their foreheads pressed
together sticky and sweaty and flushed.
"Yes!" Harry hissed as he came, clinging to Lucius' shoulders so hard he drew blood
with his nails. His insides clamped down around his lover's cock, squeezing and
releasing it, as Harry trembled with release. It coated the boy's stomach, and Lucius'
too as the man thrust down twice, three times more, pressing their stomachs
together, trying to get closer to the boy beneath him as he came too, his cry muffled
by Harry's hair.
When they had both stopped shaking, Lucius pulled himself out and lifted himself off
of the teenager. He stayed hovering over the prone body though, glancing down at
the red face and the sweaty chest and the semen smeared stomach and groin, and
then further to the trembling thighs that had moments ago been wrapped around his
waist. Lucius pressed a hand between their bodies, one finger pushing back inside
of Harry's arse, but it came away without blood, but sticky with cum, which he offered
to Harry. Harry's tongue flicked out to taste Lucius' seed, and the man sat back on
his heels, kneeling over Harry instead of lying over him. His free hand, since it wasn't
being used to prop himself up, went to his trousers, but instead of fastening them or
removing them, it pulled something from the pocket.
Harry trailed his own hand through his come, stroking lightly across his own
stomach, before hesitantly offering it to Lucius. The man smirked, face softened
except for around the lips where the grin stretched from ear to ear, and he took the
offered hand, sucked the semen from Harry's fingers and then put something in its
place.
When Harry was given his hand back, Lucius' ring sat proudly on his finger once
more. Lucius looked down at him smugly.
"Sneaky Slytherin," Harry chuckled breathlessly. He pulled Lucius back down for a
kiss, their mouths meeting in a slow smooth movement that was second nature to
them both.
"Hmm, and yet you'll marry me anyway."
"Of course I will, I love you. I can't wait to marry you." Harry grinned up at him, arms

around Lucius' neck, until the man relented and lay back between Harry's spread
legs.
Harry was interested again, Lucius noticed, and thought smugly to himself that Harry
was his now, he had forever to do this, to do anything, with the boy who had offered
himself up on a silver platter to a man who didn't really deserve him at all. "And I love
you too, my betrothed," the man whispered, capturing Harry's hand to press a kiss to
the ringed finger.
XXX
February 24th 1995. Hogwarts.
Gillyweed was a funny plant. Once ingested, it created gills and fins on the person
who had used it, which helped a lot when that person was underwater. But wasn't so
useful, as Harry discovered, if you ate the plant while still on land. Gasping for air,
Harry clutched at his throat, ignoring the strange sensations of gills opening and
closing desperately against the palms of his hands. His eyes watched, wide and
desperate, as the judges counted down to the start of the Second Task.
He was going first, since he was in the lead, followed by Viktor Krum. Viktor, Cedric
and Fleur were all poised and ready, waiting in their bathing suits at the edge of the
magic-made dock that floated above the Black Lake. Crowds of people hovered
around them, with screens of swirling silver magic before them that would show
everything that happened under water. Lucius was there, seated with his Slytherin
friends, and Evan, Snape and Luna. Hermione, as Viktor's girlfriend was probably
seated with his supportive parents. Cedric's family was somewhere out there, and
Fleur's were right there though her little sister seemed to be absent. Harry couldn't
see Draco either, though he was more worried about asphyxiating than he was about
tracking down his missing friend, when really, it was his lover who should have been
missing, considering Lucius was the thing that Harry treasured most.
His chest was heaving, and he thought he might be sick. He wondered, absently, did
people get sick when they suffocated to death, or was he just strange and unusual?
But then the judges were shouting something, and Harry hoped it was "go", because
he had already flailed his way over the edge of the dock and into the water.
And then he was swimming. It came as easily to him as breathing had used to, even
though he had never had a lesson in his life. But his feet were like a duck's, and so
were his hands: webbed, and they glided through the water like a knife through
butter and Harry allowed them to lead him deeper and deeper into the black lake,
trying to stay ahead of the next Tri-Wizard Champion to enter the lake.

Idly, he thought about what he might find. It wouldn't be Lucius, or his dad, or Luna
who was fast becoming the closest thing to a sister he might ever have. It wouldn't
be Hermione, because Harry didn't consider her enough of a friend, family, essential
enough to warrant her being the thing he's treasure most. It wasn't Theo, nor was it
Draco, or was it? Could it be Draco, because Harry hadn't seen him in the stands,
but that wouldn't make sense since it should have been Lucius who was present and
not the man's son who took Lucius' place at the Yule Ball, because the elder man
wasn't invited? It would make more sense than if it were Voldemort Harry was
expected to rescue, and Merlin Harry hoped it wasn't Voldemort, because what
possible ramifications of that could he handle?
Yet, there Draco was. He was unconscious, floating beside Hermione, Cho Chang
and a very young girl who Harry recognized as Fleur's sister. They were all tied to
the base of a large statue, guarded by a handful of armed merpeople. Harry gazed
curiously at them, at their tails and their scales and their hair that resembled
seaweed that had dried out, and their tridents and tiaras and their narrowed slitted
eyes that reminded him of something out of a nightmare. He made sure to stay away
from them if he could, swimming cautiously towards Draco and tugging at the ropes
that held his friend hostage. The ropes gave way, and Harry took the boy into his
arms and aimed his wand at the ground.
"Expelliarmus!" He cried. The jet of light that hit the sea bed was enough to propel
him and Draco both to the surface of the lake. They flew past a swarm of Grindylow,
and the fighting figure of Fleur Delacour who was trapped in their grasps. They shot
out of the water, landing with a crack on the floating jetty that marked the Champions
starting point. Harry was quick to cast a bubble-head- charm around himself, not
keen to repeat his experience with slow near-suffocation. Draco stirred feebly in his
arms, and Harry backed away as the resident medi-Witch descended upon them.
"He'll be alright, dear," Poppy Pomfrey told him, as Draco opened his eyes. "And
you'll be right as rain too, once the gillyweed breaks down. Only a few minutes left of
it now anyway." She left them then, to tend to Viktor who had appeared out of the
water. His head was transfigured to look like a shark, and Hermione who hung limply
from his grasp was bleeding sluggishly on her arms and wrists where he had caught
her with his teeth while tearing through the ropes. Viktor lost points for harming his
treasure.
Fleur was rescued from the grindylows, and sat beside Harry crying hopelessly
about her sister's death being her fault when Cedric appeared, three minutes after
the hour mark with Cho Chang and Gabrielle Delacour floating behind him, tied
together with conjured rope.

Harry came first, Fleur last, but Cedric was awarded extra points for his bravery and
a kiss from Fleur for saving her little sister, and ended up tied in the lead with Harry.
"That's pants," Draco muttered, later, as they made their way to the great hall.
Hogwarts was putting on a show for the visiting families of the Champions by
throwing a lavish feast, including expensive champagne for those old enough, and
plenty of desert and pudding. Lucius took a seat beside his betrothed, not his fiance
as Harry wasn't yet old enough, and Draco took Harry's other side.
"Yeah well, it's not like Cedric knew the teachers would have rescued the little girl if
her sister hadn't. He was being a nice guy." Theodore said, shrugging his shoulders.
"Not fair that Harry isn't winning now because of it."
"What isn't fair is using that little girl in the first place. What was she, eight or nine?
Ten? But they wouldn't use Lucius?"
"The Headmaster brought us to a meeting the week before the task, Harry. He
explained that there were rules about who could be used and who couldn't be.
Apparently, since father is capable of defending himself, and wouldn't have in usual
circumstances relied on you to protect him, then he was excluded from the task."
"So, it's ok to potentially drown a nine-year-old girl, because she can't defend
herself, but not a fully grown adult Wizard who can? Now that's pants." The brunette
ranted, glancing around at his amused friends and family.
"That's the Ministry of Magic," Lucius drawled, leaning over to press a soft kiss to
Harry's hair, "its workers aren't known for their logic, I'm afraid."
"That can be changed," Harry whispered. His eyes darted between Evan and Lucius,
and then up at Severus Snape who watched him intently as if trying to see inside his
mind. All three of them were Death Eaters, all of them who knew the Dark Lord
would soon return. Harry knew if anyone could change things, it would be Him, and
Harry looked forward to it.
XXX
Thanks for reading! Sorry to anyone who wasn't anxiously waiting 46 chapter for
smut, but for those who were, satisfied? There should be more in either the next
chapter of the one after, depending on how long it is.
Review, or Harry gets it.... Gets what? Review and find out...

Chapter 47
This was supposed to include four other scenes, and another sexy bit, but I had to
go to the gym and then meet my friend. I was going to finish this, then study, but I'm
actually feeling really, really dizzy and I don't think that's normal. So I'm going to lie
down for a while instead...
Despite its length, I hope you enjoy the chapter.
Words: 3,228
Chapter 47
March 5th 1995. Hogwarts.
Potions class was always, without fail, the quietest lesson Harry had to endure ever.
There was never noise, or when there were a few hushed or whispered
conversations Professor Snape would be quick to end them. Generally by a smack
to the back of the head, or through the docking of many, many house points and a
well formulated half-insult that some could mistake for a compliment, until realisation
set in twenty minutes later and it was too late to utter a comeback (that would likely
land them in detention anyway). Snape's voice occasionally broke the silence, or the
'swish, swish' of a ladle stirring whatever potion they were brewing, or the roaring of
the flames on the burner. Every now and then, someone would drop something but
be too afraid of scrapping their chair against the floor to reach down and pick it up,
and they'd sit there awkwardly for a moment under the intense gaze of their
professor until they remembered they had magic and could levitate the fallen
ingredient back onto their desk.
But never before had the silence been broken by the sound of the classroom door
slamming open and bouncing off the wall. Every head in the room looked up,
snapping in the direction of the doorway and the man framed therein. Snape's mouth
curled down, and his hands clenched, as he turned bodily around to face the
intruder.
Igor Karkaroff already had the left sleeve of his robe half pushed up, arm held out
towards Severus as he made his way further into the room. Harry watched him with
narrowed eyes, catching mumbled words as the man hissed beneath his breath,
realizing there was a class full of teenagers watching him. He didn't say anymore,
anything other than the "Severus its back!" he had cried as he threw open the
classroom door, but Snape looked fit to kill him.

The potions master grabbed Karkaroff, and began dragging the Highmaster of
Durmstrang out of the classroom. Harry turned at his desk, watching the two men
amble into the corridor, one pushing and the other trying unsuccessfully to pull his
sleeve up further, to prove his point. Snape grabbed the arm, yanked on it until the
sleeve rolled back down, and then he leaned right in to Karkaroff's face and snarled,
"you stupid man. Get out of my sight."
"But Severus!" He tried to protest, reaching out to fist the front of Snape's robes. Igor
looked up, looked over Snape's shoulder for a moment and caught Harry's gaze.
Harry watched him, eyes drilling into his own for those moments, as his right hand
cupped the space on his left arm where the Dark Mark might one day go. Snape had
one, though Harry hadn't ever seen it, Lucius had one and Evan had one, and he
was intimately familiar with Lucius' at least to know one when he saw it. Despite only
catching a glimpse of the bottom half of the mark, Harry knew that Karkaroff bore
one, and that his (like many others) was beginning to turn jet black again; no longer
the faded reminder of Lord Voldemort's temporary absence and defeat.
He was coming back. And Karkaroff was scared by it.
Snape seemed to notice Igor's lack of attention, and turned his head to glance
behind him. He glanced over Harry's face, the confused yet intent look the boy
sported, and then down at the way he was rubbing his left arm. Snape sighed,
shoving Karkaroff once more before letting him go. The door closed in the
Highmaster's face, and Professor Snape turned a furious glare onto his students, his
arms crossed before his chest.
"Continue," he hissed, eyes narrowing as everyone turned to do as he bid, except
Harry. Harry's partner, a fellow Ravenclaw nudged the boy nervously, but Harry
continued to watch his professor instead of his potion. "Detention, Potter. With me,
tonight. Now, continue."
XXX
March 6th 1995. Hogsmeade.
Severus Snape was a man that Harry just couldn't get his head around. One minute
the man was flinging detentions at him just because Harry looked at him, and the
next he was sitting the boy down, making him scrub potions, and casually asking if
'everything is alright with Lucius'. He was throwing Dark curses at him in the
forbidden forest one second, and then wanting to know if he was happy, if he was
safe. Snape was hitting him over the head for not paying attention, then one-eightying and demanding to know if Lucius had ever hurt him, if Lucius took precautions, if

anyone had hurt him.

The way Snape had said 'anyone', with narrowed eyes and distaste on his face,
Harry got the feeling he was either talking about Sirius or Remus, but the way his left
arm flexed made him think of Voldemort. So Harry had just said no and tried to look
as confused as possible. He didn't want to hint at knowing Voldemort, at having met
him, because Harry wasn't sure what Snape was all about. Lucius trusted him,
thought of the man as his brother though one he was slightly estranged from since
Snape started working at Hogwarts. Evan despised him, considered him a traitor and
a weak link. Sirius thought he was a nasty waste of space, and Remus was
unusually silent on the matter. Harry respected his skills, and his achievements, but
he didn't particularly like the man. He did, however, like that Snape agreed to teach
him duelling because Lucius had asked a favour, and that he taught fairly this time,
hard-core and hands on, but without the usual bitter and hurtful comments that
accompanied his potions lessons.
There were so many opinions about the man, so many faces Snape had shown;
different sides to the same coin, and Harry wasn't sure which was real and which
wasn't.
"What's the story with Snape?" Harry asked, sitting down at the table across from his
birth father's friends.
It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and the town was once more over run with students.
Harry had been planning to sneak off with Draco and Theo to Diagon Alley, since
they had permission from the board of governors to meet their families for lunch, and
Harry had too, but they all knew better than to inform Dumbledore of that fact. His
plans had been curtailed, however, when Sirius had written and asked to meet for
lunch at the Three Broomsticks instead. Harry had agreed to go, because Sirius was
still his magical guardian and his godfather, and Remus meant well though he went
about it the wrong way.
Also, Harry sort of wanted to show off his promise ring. It was beautiful, all platinum
and diamonds, sparkling wildly on his ring finger. Upon his fifteenth birthday, when
Lucius officially proposed, the ring would change magically into an engagement ring.
Harry wasn't sure how it would be different, but he assumed that instead of having
four diamonds spread along the top of the ring, he'd end up with only one in the
centre, (a large one probably), like a custom engagement ring. It was a ring from
Lucius, so no matter what happened with it, Harry knew it would look fantastic.
He held his hands out in front of him, curled around the bottle of Butterbeer Remus
bought him. The ring was on display, and Sirius had yet to take his eyes off of it.

"Congratulations." Remus whispered, because it was polite. They had known Lucius
was Courting Harry; it had been in the papers, after all. But this was the first time
they had seen or even known of the ring. Harry was officially no longer to be
considered courting as in 'scooping out the possibility of marriage'. He was being
Courted with full intent upon marriage. There was no what if, no maybe, no maybe
not's left. Marriage was going to happen now, and it was only sinking in that Harry
had tied himself forever to Lucius Malfoy.
"Does he treat you ok?" Remus asked, reaching over to squeeze Sirius' arm when
the man let out a strangled sound.
"He's perfect. He's kind and attentive, and affectionate, patient and considerate,"
Harry told them breathlessly. His cheeks had gone red, thinking about just how
considerate Lucius could be. Green eyes warmed, catching Sirius' gaze before
darting away again. "He's more than I could have dared hope for. I love him, and he
loves me too. He makes me happy."
"Are-," Sirius cleared his throat loudly. He took a sip of his own Butterbeer before
trying again. "You're not, you know, intimate right?" Sirius had gone horrible red as
well. Remus was glancing away from the table, clearing his throat in embarrassment.
Harry tried to respond, but he couldn't make himself do anything but stutter. His
hands shook, making the bottle they were curled around dance on the table. "We... I
mean... does that... it's not really your business!"
"HARRY!" Sirius shouted, looking stunned. He had figured, back in the summer
when Harry kept sneaking out to see somebody, that the boy was probably having
sex or coming close to it. He, as Harry's guardian, had worried terribly about Harry
getting some girl pregnant, or worse, a boy and having no idea that it could be
possible. And that had been ok, that Harry was having sex, as long as he was
careful, because that's what teenagers did. That's what Sirius did as a teenager. But
he didn't, he had never, would never, have sex with a man older than his own father.
That Harry was now the one at risk of an unintentional pregnancy made everything
different, it made everything scarier, and it made Sirius much less understanding.
"What were you thinking?"
"You're fourteen, Harry!" Remus butted in. "He should never have taken advantage
of you!"
Sirius and Harry both glanced at Remus, wide eyed. That hadn't actually occurred to
Sirius. Well, yes, he knew Harry was only fourteen, but Harry was the one being
courted, Harry set the boundaries not Lucius so it had been Harry's decision. Lucius

would never have touched him if Harry hadn't wanted him to, and they were (age
aside) technically engaged. It wasn't like Harry was just some random boy that
Lucius had decided to fuck and then discard. It wasn't about his age, because Harry
had never really been a child, anyone could see that from the way he acted. He had
grown up too fast to use his age against him now. But he was still so young, so
sheltered? Did he even know about the risks?
"Remus, it was my decision! He's my fianc so I can do what I want with him. It's not
your business!" Harry hissed, his face burning red.
"Harry, at least tell me you were being careful?" Sirius pleaded, reaching across the
table to grab one of Harry's hands. He wondered how long ago they had last had
sex, how often, how likely it was that Harry was already pregnant and just didn't
know it yet. "You are taking precautions right, when you, you know?"
"Oh Merlin. I had sex once. One time, Sirius. The world isn't going to end because I
did it once! And Lucius made sure he was careful, so he didn't hurt me if that's what
you mean by precaution!"
Remus narrowed his eyes. It was like a light bulb had gone off over his head,
because he grinned suddenly, remembering something he had been told when he
started working at Hogwarts last year. "Do you drink the pumpkin juice, Harry?"
"Yeah, why?" Harry asked. He tilted his head to one side, studying the relieved grin
that crossed the werewolf's face.
"It's ok, Siri. Albus told me last year that Severus provides a contraceptive potion to
the house elves, who spike the pumpkin juice with it. It's traditionally why the
teachers sit at the head of the great hall, so they can see who doesn't drink anything
at breakfast, lunch or dinner." Remus smiled over at his friend. "As long as you keep
drinking the pumpkin juice, you only have to worry about taking preventative
measures during the holidays, Harry."
"Preventative?" The boy muttered, "For what? To prevent what?"
And that was what Sirius meant by Harry being too young. Not that he was young in
age, because Sirius came from a family who had tried to marry him off at twelve and
his cousins off at thirteen, but young in the ways of their world, ignorant of the bigger
picture and the risks inherent in growing up.
"Pregnancy," Sirius told him, because obviously no one else had. Maybe they all had
just assumed, thinking someone else would be the one to give the birds and the
bees talk that Harry obviously needed, and no one had done it right. Evan had tried,

explaining the basics in a slow, patient manner, but back then Harry hadn't really
known Lucius, hadn't shown interest in anyone let alone a man, and Evan had
skipped over all of the parts that he felt weren't necessary, hoping to end the
conversation as soon as possible. Remus and Sirius had both tried last year, but
both assuming that Harry would be the dominant in any relationship, had likewise
skipped the possibility of Harry ending up pregnant.
Harry's face turned bright red. "Oh," he mumbled, "right. Well, not pregnant, so," he
said, clearing his throat. "Can we change the subject?" He scuffed his feet against
the ground, chewing nervously on his bottom lip until Sirius nodded slowly. "Tell me
about Snape?"
"What about Snivellus?" Sirius asked, sneering at the mention of the other man's
name.
Remus elbowed Sirius in the side, smiling patiently at Harry at the same time. "What
do you want to know?"
"Well, he's such a bastard to me. He always has been, and I just figured I'd done
something to deserve it, but Lucius," (and Evan, he added mentally) "said it was
because he hated my father. But lately, he hasn't been so bad. I mean, it might have
something to do with him being friends with Lucius, but I don't see why he'd keep
checking up on me when he could just ask Lucius? He shouldn't care if Lucius hurts
me; he's Lucius' friend, not mine. But he keeps asking, and checking, and making
me swear to tell him if Lucius does something he shouldn't. I appreciate it, it's just... I
can't pin him down. Every time I think I have him figured out, he does something to
surprise me, something unexpected." Harry glanced away, chewing his bottom lip
again. "I think," he added after a pause and a deep breath, "I could really like the
man, but I'm afraid to. In case this is all some game, or a plot, or something Lucius
forced him to do that he doesn't mean. I don't want to be friends with someone who
doesn't mean it, you know? But I want to give him a chance because he is Lucius'
best friend."
Sirius looked like he had swallowed something sour. Remus on the other hand just
looked sad. He folded his hands under his chin, and sighed. Tawny hair fell into his
eyes, and he blew it back before reaching for Harry's hand. The boy pulled away,
and Remus let him, understanding that he had probably pushed Harry away last
year by trying to force the boy to be James' double.
"Severus has had a hard life. His father was, well, horrible isn't enough to describe it.
From what I know his father was responsible for his mother's death, and Severus
joined You-Know-Who to seek revenge on the man. He changed sides afterwards,

though no one knows why. Your mother might have, but well, she and your father
were already in hiding by then, and you as well. Severus spied on You-Know-Who,
he promised to protect you always, and while it wasn't said, acknowledged, I know
he did it all for your mother. He was very fond of Lily in school." Sirius snorted here,
and Harry got the feeling Snape was more than 'fond' of her.
"They were friends since childhood, having known each other since before
Hogwarts." Remus continued. "He loved her very much, but well, your father, Sirius
and I weren't very nice to him in school which is probably why he hates you. There
was a fight, later in school, after the OWLs, and your mother tried to help. Severus
was embarrassed and angry and I'm sure he's regretted it ever since but he insulted
your mother and they never spoke since. Lily always defended him though, at Order
meetings, and in her letters after you went into hiding and he joined the Order. But,
well, they were never friends again."
"He was always sniffing around though, if Lily was in Diagon Alley. Especially when
she was pregnant with you. We sort of thought he might try something to hurt you,
you know, to get revenge on James. But he used to just stare at her stomach like he
couldn't understand what was happening, like he couldn't believe what he was
seeing. He was probably imagining that you were his," Sirius spoke with a sneer and
narrowed eyes.
"Nobody has ever said, and I've never been brave enough to ask, but it is my belief
that if faced with the possibility, Severus Snape would choose to die to protect the
son of the woman he loved than to stand aside and watch you die. He is a lot like
Lily in some respects, Harry, and for that reason alone I think you should give him a
chance if that is what you desire. He is a good man. Your mother thought so, I think
so, the Headmaster thinks so too."
"And Voldemort? What does he think?" Harry asked. His heart beat hard inside his
chest. The man he was growing to respect, Lucius' brother, was a traitor just like
Evan had always said. But he was a traitor who had loved the woman who gave her
life for Harry, his mother, Lily Evans, and he was trying to protect Harry from Lucius,
from Voldemort and from himself. Harry wasn't sure why he needed to know, but he
had asked anyway, ignoring the flinch both Gryffindors gave at the name.
"You-Know-Who believes Severus was spying on us for him. But it was always the
other way around. Severus swore to protect you, Harry. He could never be loyal to
someone who would wish you harm." Remus promised him, trying once more to
squeeze Harry's hand. The boy let him this time, smiling softly at the werewolf and
then his godfather as his mind raced.

Snape couldn't follow Voldemort if Voldemort wanted to hurt him. But what if
Voldemort didn't? Harry thought about it, about the consequences. He wouldn't tell
the Dark Lord, not yet, until he was sure how the man would react and whether
anything Harry did could save Snape from his wrath. But Snape? Could he tell
Snape? Perhaps, but Harry didn't know how Snape would react either... If Snape
knew that Harry was safe from Voldemort, would he betray the light to protect Harry
from them? That was a question that would need to be answered before Harry told
anyone anything.
XXX
Thanks for reading :) As for the last chapter's ending note, Harry gets really bad
things done to him, so those that reviewed last chapter probably helped save his life
and his pride. Unfortunately, he still surrounds himself with bad people, and bad
things will probably happen to him again tonight unless you review and protect him
with the power of your words. Ink, sword, which is mightier? :P

Chapter 48
Warnings: Sex, lots of sex, underage, and cursing, and Howler-abuse, and
non-con if you're very particular about warnings...
It has been FOREVER! And I am so, so sorry, but RL and exams and work kicked
my arse and I'm just so TIRED all of the time... I was meant to be on holidays till the
middle of this week gone, which would have been my updating time, but work
decided that I should come back to work Sunday, literally a few hours after my plane
from London got back into Dublin....! Yeah! Harsh.
Anyway, sorry for the long wait. Hopefully, I'll get back into the swing of regular
updates. I have loads of ideas brewing, and most of them I managed to get written
down on paper before the exams sucked out my brain cells, but it's a matter of time
and not being exhausted 24/7... Enjoy this chapter though! It's the longest
chapter for a while, so hopefully it makes up (a little?) for the wait.
Words: 5,776
Chapter 48
March 9th 1995. Hogwarts.
Breakfast that morning was an odd affair. Harry had stumbled into the Great Hall, still
rubbing the sleep from his eyes because that morning was one of the oddly
occasional mornings where he had overslept and Terry Boot had been forced to drag
him from the bed by his ankles. Grumbling, and throwing the occasional hex at the
retreating Ravenclaw fourth year who had been trying to help, Harry had dressed,
yawning widely, and made his way down to breakfast. His backside was just about
touching the bench when Luna had appeared beside him, her pale hand on his arm,
her grip firmer than Harry would have given her credit for. The next thing he knew he
was standing, being tugged firmly towards the other end of the Ravenclaw table,
where Luna's breakfast was half-finished and Hermione Granger sat reading a book.
"She made me sit here too," Hermione said softly in greeting, glancing up quickly.
"Morning," Harry yawned more than said. It was mornings like these, when he had
double potions first thing, that Harry regretted the duelling lessons with Snape. They
kept him up half the night, under the guise of 'detention', and he was so exhausted,
magically and bodily, that he physically couldn't get up the mornings after, but falling
asleep in potions class meant that he'd end up with an actual detention.

Luna hummed softly from her seat beside him. She continued to demolish the bowl
of scrambled eggs that sat before her, topping it up whenever it reached threequarters empty. "The post is here," she told them needlessly, through a mouthful of
chewed-up toast.
Harry didn't pay her much attention; he was used to her behaviour, knowing she was
only doing it for the pleasure of watching Hermione's face scrunch up in disgust at
the sight.
He did, however, glance up at the charmed ceiling and the wide open windows,
searching the circling swarm of owls for his own beloved Hedwig, or for Lucius'
eagle-owl, or for whatever bird was currently in the service of Evan or Voldemort.
"Remember that article?" Luna asked suddenly, eyeing the owls with something like
amusement as several of them veered away from the flock and came towards Harry.
"The one in November? About you and Hermione?" Harry and Hermione both
furrowed their brows, trying to remember what Luna was referring to, and both shook
their heads simultaneously, because after all November was a long time ago and a
lot had happened since then. "Well, it seems your mail box has finally become full."
As the owls dropped their letters, in Harry's case, and Howlers for Hermione, Harry
thought back to something he had read in Hogwarts: A History, something about
each student being magically assigned a shoebox, where any threatening or
potentially harmful correspondence was automatically transferred by the wards
surrounding the school. It seemed a bit counterproductive though, he thought as the
first Howler sprang to life, to protect the students first and then unleash masses of
'dangerous correspondence' on them at once when the mailbox was finally full up.
"HOW DARE YOU CHEAT ON VIKTOR KRUM!" One Howler began, the woman's
voice harsh and piercing. Across the Hall at the Slytherin table, Viktor turned around,
glancing at Hermione with a confused frown. She simply shrugged at him, looking as
bewildered as she felt, before glancing at Harry as if he could help her.
"YOU BROKE POOR HARRY POTTER'S HEART, YOU HORRID WOMAN!"
Another shrieked, and another, and another, all insulting, all vicious, all cruel. One
even called her a "MUDBLOOD DAUGHTER OF A MUGGLE WHORE" and went
on to sort of half-compliment Harry and then insult him a moment later by dragging
his mother's blood-status into it.
The sight of Hermione bursting into tears, and the sound of sniggering spreading
through the hall, was enough to break Harry out of his musings as to why these
Howlers were blocked, but Mrs Weasleys' weren't.

"Incendio!" He cast, one after another, and again, until all of the Howlers were little
more than specks of ash on the table. Harry blew at the piles, spreading them away
from them, away from Hermione. "You ok?" he asked her softly.
She gave a small sniffle, keeping her head ducked down so he wouldn't see the
tears on her cheeks. But she shrugged at him, and asked, "What did you get?"
Perhaps a part of her was hoping that he would be as abused and humiliated as she
had been, but that part of her was left unsatisfied in some ways. Because Harry
hadn't received any Howlers, or written insults, or death threats. Instead, the owls
had brought him a shoebox full of marriage proposals.
Harry flicked through the top few quickly, his face turning red at some of the things
that had been written to him. One letter even dated back four years, to when Harry
would have been ten, and the sender, a 69-year-old Witch from Wales had offered to
have his baby for a million galleons in child support. Last year, a teenager had
offered him her toddler if Harry let her give him a blowjob. Another offered him the
use of her ovaries, because she wasn't using them anyway, and they might as well
start breeding an army of superhero-Boy-Who-Lived-children1. Harry furrowed his
brows, not sure whether to smile or cringe at some of the letters, until he picked up
one that literally had his breath catching in his throat. Ginny Weasley had written him
a love poem. A very bad one, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Harry read it softly,
under his breath, but beside him Luna gave a small huff of laughter that meant he
hadn't been reading quietly enough.
"Are they very bad?" Hermione asked, catching the blush on his cheeks.
"Not really. Mostly, it's kind of gross. A 94-year-old Wizard from Aberdeen would like
to buy my kidneys because his are failing, and he's offered me two out of three of his
granddaughters."
"Isn't that kind of him?" Hermione asked, though she didn't look like she was sure it
was. Mostly she looked a little horrified by the idea of selling children for body parts.
"Yeah, except the youngest one is six and the eldest is eleven, and is in Hufflepuff,
and is looking this way right now. Oh Merlin!" Harry groaned, sliding down in his seat
in an attempt to hide from the little blond Hufflepuff that was glancing curiously his
way. "Pretend this conversation never happened," Harry instructed them firmly,
tucking all of the letters bar the one from Ginny back into the box. He kept Ginny's
one, and tucked it into his pocket; it should keep Draco entertained for at least an
hour this evening, so Harry might have some chance of finishing his Transfiguration
essay in peace.

XXX
March 20th 1995.
His hands were tied above his head. Harry strained against the scarves that bound
him, woven green and silver, soft and expensive, and tied in knots around his wrists
and the headboard bars. He wasn't sure how he had gotten this way, naked and
bound, because the last thing he remembered was climbing into bed in the
Ravenclaw tower, fully dressed in his favourite pyjamas, and definitely not tied up.
But here he was, bound and helpless, and painfully erect the second Lucius Malfoy
stepped out of the shadows and towards his bed.
It was a dream, Harry realized on some subconscious level. He took in the strange
fedora Lucius was wearing, and the unrealistically large smile that dominated the
man's pale features, stretching his mouth unnaturally wide, and the ways the fingers
on his hand kept growing and stretching until they were abnormally long and thing,
like bones stripped of their meat, and then filling out again until they were Lucius'
once more. He was dreaming, and what would have turned into a wonderful wet
dream about his betrothed had somehow twisted and warped into something else.
Harry wasn't scared, so it wasn't a nightmare, and he was still hard and wanting,
straining up against his restraints even as his legs fell open in invitation, silently
begging his lover to come between them, to fill him up. But it wasn't Lucius that
came forward.
It was something other.
There was no nice way to describe the person, nothing that wouldn't sound cruel.
Lucius' hair shrivelled up until the person was bald. The mouth was still stretched
wide, but the lips were gone, and the fingers were once more like bones. Lucius'
proud, roman nose had disappeared into his face, shrinking back into the skin as if in
quicksand, and all that was left were two slits like a snake's nostrils. The man stared
at him, eyes wide and bloody, and Harry wasn't sure if that was actually the colour of
the creature's irises, or if there was something more wrong with this dream than he
had first realised.
It came towards him, slipping out of the heavy robes it had been wearing, until it too
was naked and pale and erect, climbing up onto the bed to lie between Harry's
spread legs.
He should scream, Harry thought. He should wake up. This wasn't the way wet
dreams were supposed to go, and he'd know, because Harry had had plenty. But it

wasn't like a real nightmare, because Harry had had plenty of those as well. As
terrifying as the creature was to look at, he wasn't afraid. Gentle hands cradled his
face, and a mouth with no lips pressed softly into his, testing the waters, but Harry
didn't buck or scream or cry and so the creature kissed him harder, with more
passion. Harry didn't kiss back, but his lips were soft and pliant, and a tongue
worked its way between them to taste Harry for the first time, even if only in a dream.
And then a cold hand was on his cock, and Harry was jerking forward in his bed,
surrounded by blue and bronze and the familiar snoring of his dormmates. But there
was someone above him, someone real and tangible, pinning his arms above his
head and pressing kisses to the column of his throat.
Harry's mouth opened, a scream worked its way up into his throat, and his tongue
got ready, about to release the sound, to wake a dormmate and seek rescue from
the creature that had followed him out of his dreams. Until...
"I love you, beloved," a voice rasped against his neck, and Harry automatically
sagged back into the pillows, his panic evaporating. It was Lucius, it was Lucius!
Harry tugged his arms against Lucius' grip, and the man let go straight away. There
was a small grin on his face when Harry finally looked up to meet his eyes, and the
makings of a bruise on his jaw. "Good dreams, beloved? You were thrashing so
much I had to pin you down."
"It was a strange dream, I don't know what to make of it, but I don't think it was
good." Harry told him after a moment's silence. Did he tell Lucius about the dream?
He didn't think he had meant to dream about a monster trying to fuck him in Lucius'
bed, the bed where Harry had lost his virginity to his fianc, but he had dreamed it
nonetheless. Did the dream starting out with Lucius as its star count for anything in
his defence, Harry wondered?
"Your scar is red-looking," Lucius told him, his voice soft. "Does it hurt?"
"No," Harry answered quietly and honestly, because it didn't hurt. He wouldn't have
even known there was anything off about his scar unless Lucius had brought it up
first. Maybe it was something to do with the dream? Or maybe Voldemort was angry
about something again, or excited, the way he had been that time Harry watched
him kill Frank Bryce? "How'd you get in here anyway?" Harry questioned, raising his
hips up as Lucius started tugging down his pyjama bottoms.
His shirt was unbuttoned before Harry realised that Lucius had no clothes to remove.
They were either folded neatly on the dresser, or Lucius had come to his dorm stark
naked, smug and confident that he could get away with it.

"Severus let me in. It seems now, I owe him a favour, though it is not too steep a
price to pay."
"Suppose I should make it worth your while then, yeah?" Harry asked, looking coyly
up at Lucius through his lashes. The blush was back on his cheeks, and Lucius
mouth was back on his neck and there were fingers pressing up into him as a cock
grinded down against his own furiously.
"Ride me," Lucius told him, after what seemed like hours had passed and Harry was
already sticky with ejaculate. His thighs burned and there was a dull sort of ache
settling into the base of his back already, and Lucius was sweaty and flushed and
panting, looking like the cat that caught the canary even as he rolled onto his back
and allowed Harry to climb on top of him. This was their second night together; their
fourth time having sex if you counted each act individually. But this was the first time
Lucius had let Harry on top of him.
Mind you, he wasn't really topping, because Lucius was still inside of him, thick and
long and hard as Harry slowly lowered himself down, one hand on Lucius' stomach
and the other gripping the base of the Wizard's cock to hold it straight and steady.
Harry seated himself fully after a few moments, gasping breathlessly as Lucius
seemed to sink in further than he'd ever had before, Harry's weight and gravity
pulling him completely down onto the length that impaled him. Butterflies were alive
in Harry's stomach, his thighs trembled and his shoulder muscles bunched and unbunched with nerves.
"What do I do?" He asked voice breathy and raw from screaming.
Lucius had put wards up around the bed after Harry's first orgasm, when the boy had
bitten into Lucius' shoulder instead of allowing the blond to hear the extent of his
pleasure. But Harry still spoke softly, until he was in the throes of ecstasy, whereas
Lucius practically growled in return, voice deep and husky and full of lust. "Raise
yourself up, almost all of the way off of me, and then drop back down."
Harry did as he was told, and nearly screamed once he was fully seated again and
Lucius' cock jabbed unexpectedly straight into his prostate. "Again, but lean forward
this time, allow my cock to drag against it," Lucius instructed, and Harry whimpered,
the feeling of being so full, stretched wide open and filled up at the same time,
coupled with the sensation of the cock scrapping against his prostate and the walls
of his insides with each movement was too much. Harry wasn't going to last long this
time, but he continued to ride the blond man, thighs shaking and arms trembling, as
Lucius' hands on his waist guided him faster and harder, or shallower and slower.

Mouths met, sloppily, before Harry threw his head back with a gasp as Lucius thrust
up hard into him. The blond leant forward, raising himself up on his elbows so that
he could lean forward and catch Harry's left nipple in his mouth. He bit down hard,
and the boy gave a horrid shriek, that trailed off into the most delightful moan Lucius
had ever heard as he came so hard he blacked out.
When Harry woke up again, he was on his back. His legs were spread, and lying
limp on the bed, and his arms were pinned over his head, and Lucius was rocking
lazily into him, delaying his own orgasm as he stroked Harry's cock back to life.
"Again?" Lucius asked, mouth curling at the corners because he knew what the
answer would be even before he asked.
"Again," Harry told him firmly, and though his legs shook and his arse burned and his
back ached, Harry wrapped his arms around Lucius' neck and dragged the man
down for a kiss, thrusting up to meet every demanding thrust, and offering his neck
willingly whenever Lucius moved to bite and suck on his skin.
"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you," Harry cried out, like a chant or a
mantra, a prayer, each "I" sobbed as Lucius pulled out of him, and each "you" trailing
off into a moan as Lucius pressed back inside, hard and furious and demanding.
Harry would have bruises on his hips in the morning, and he'd have to spend a good
portion of his bathroom routine trying to expel Lucius' seed from his body even
though he'd rather keep it inside of him where it belonged, and he probably wouldn't
be able to sit right or walk straight for a week. But if Lucius didn't come with him this
time, Harry would offer himself up again, because he would never, ever, get enough
of Lucius Malfoy.
XXX
March 21st 1995. Riddle Manor.
Voldemort watched the boy sleep.
He wasn't really Voldemort, because in the real world Voldemort didn't have a body,
and he doubted that once he did have one it would look anything like the old Tom
Riddle of his youth. But this Voldemort was Tom Riddle, because it was his
mindscape, and his dream, and he could be whatever he wanted to be.
Harry had not been afraid of him, of the physical manifestation of his tattered soul in
flesh-form, but Harry hadn't been very willing either. But this body, this appearance!
People used to throw themselves at his feet when he was in school, begging for
dates or attention or kisses from him, and he hadn't ever felt an interest in them like

the interest he had in Harry. There was something about the boy that called to him,
that sang to his very being, and perhaps it was the Horcrux, the piece of himself
wanting to come home, the piece that recognized him, the way Evan recognized it
for what it was. But it wasn't just the Horcrux.
He hadn't been able to feel it while possessing Gilderoy Lockhart, and even though
Evan had shared that piece of information with him during that summer and their
travels through Albania, Voldemort had never really believed him. Evan would not lie
to him, he was far too loyal, though he was also unruly and arrogant and
troublesome, refusing to cower before him or ever admit that he was wrong
(because Lord Voldemort never was, and one of them had to be at times), but there
was something fantastical about the idea of the Chosen One being a Horcrux that
made Voldemort inclined to not believe Evan Rosier.
He had been proved wrong, though he would never admit it. But even before the
belief, even before the knowledge was concrete, something about Harry Potter
interested him. It enticed the part of his soul encased in the diary, and Tom, when
Voldemort deigned to write with him, waxed poetic about Harry this and Harry that,
and if not for Harry's lover Tom probably would have been the one to take Harry to
bed by now. The word 'love' was never used in their conversations, but Voldemort
was sometimes left with the notion that Tom Riddle (what was left of him) fancied
himself in love with the Boy-Who-Lived, and maybe he really was. It was thinking
upon that idea, late at night when the homunculus could not sleep, because golems
did not sleep at night but turn to sand, and Lord Voldemort refused to do anything so
undignified, so... vulnerable, not again, not ever, that led to his current predicament.
How did Tom know he was in love?
And how was Voldemort supposed to know if he was in love? He doubted it, but it
didn't hurt to consider all bases, to think on every option and weigh one against the
other to reach a reasonable, proven conclusion. Love was something that Voldemort
never saw himself succumbing to. It was a weakness that he had tried to rid himself
of, along with most other human emotions, when he had made his Horcrux. And yet,
one Horcrux had fallen in love, and another, Harry, apparently had too.
Perhaps they were defective creations? Or perhaps Lord Voldemort felt more than
he wished to admit to?
He felt jealousy, he could admit to that. Each time Tom spoke about Harry's lover,
whose name Tom did not know, only that Harry had met his lover before meeting the
Horcrux, and so Harry must have been quite young, Voldemort felt something
clawing its way into his chest, burning and snarling, and eating away at something

inside of him until he wanted nothing more than to hurt somebody. But he didn't
know why. Why should it matter that Harry had a lover? Why should it matter that
Harry loved?
Voldemort had not been able to find out the name of the wizard who had seduced
the boy wonder. Evan knew, of course, being Harry's father in all but blood, but Evan
couldn't be threatened or tortured into divulging information he did not wish to part
from. Wormtail did not know, and aside from Evan and Barty Crouch Jr., Voldemort
had seen no one else since returning from Albania, since leaving Hogwarts and
Lockhart behind actually! Barty could not leave Hogwarts, and Voldemort did not
want to risk the man sending him letters under Dumbledore's watchful eye, and so
Bartemius was not much use for spying on Harry or his lover.
Wormtail occasionally tried to sneak into the closest Wizarding district and steal a
newspaper, but transforming from rat to supposedly-dead-man was rather
conspicuous, and his animagus form was too small to drag the paper along behind
him, let alone carry it in his mouth, the way Sirius had before. The last time Peter
Pettigrew had tried, he had managed to make out the headline of the front cover and
the first paragraph before he had been beaten away with the handle of a sweeping
broom and had fled for his measly life.
All that he could share with the Dark Lord was that Harry was being courted by a
Pureblood man who was married. The paper was obviously a very old one, as
Lucius was legally divorced now and he and Harry were not only lovers, but
betrothed. But Voldemort didn't know that. He did not realise Harry's attachment, his
feelings, were so great, so strong. And he saw no harm in trying to sway the boy's
attentions, to steal them for himself, for as long as it took to work out what exactly it
was that had him so fascinated with the short, skinny boy spread out naked upon his
dreamscape bed.
Voldemort watched him, calmly at first, waiting with patience for Harry to wake up of
his own accord. Harry's body writhed occasionally, legs drawing up before lying flat
again, fingers clenched at the sheets, at his naked stomach, at the air above him, as
if clinging to something or someone Voldemort could not see. Then, as Voldemort's
carefully structured dream seduction and Harry's dreams that always followed sex or
masturbation merged together, the Dark Lord shed any pretence of patience, of
calmness, or apathy. Jealousy burned in his red eyes, a sneer pulled at pale pink
lips, and a horrid flush worked its way across pale, high cheek bones. Semen pooled
on the bed beneath Harry's arse, leaking out of him as the boy dreamed about
Lucius pulling out, too sore and sated to consider holding it inside of him. Hickeys
appeared on his neck, starting as tiny pinpricks of red, like the light from a laser,
before growing and swirling outwards, painted on in reds and pinks, and purples,

bruising and claiming Harry's skin as theirs while Voldemort watched with his hands
clenched and his eyes narrowed.
Harry's eyes finally fluttered open.
With the first blink of confused green eyes, Voldemort surged forward, like a river
battering down a dam. He pinned Harry to the bed, his arms held over his head by
one of Voldemort's pale hands, and his legs forced wider by Voldemort's hips.
Harry's cock, half hard from his dream, pressed against Voldemort's stomach, but
the man ignored it, instead leaning down to bite Harry's neck right over the biggest
bruise until he could taste blood. He pulled away, pale pink lips stained with the
faintest hint of red, and he ignored the soft sob Harry let out at the pain.
"Who was it?" He asked, voice low and dangerous and much, much worse than if he
had been screaming in anger. It was a slow kind of danger, that lulled you in and
calmed you down, and then pounced once you were convinced it was safe and your
guard was down, and then it tore you apart in its viciousness and its rage. "Who did
you let do this to you?"
Voldemort's free hand darted down suddenly, nudging at Harry's hole, slick with the
ejaculate of Harry's dream lover, fingering him just long enough to wet his fingers,
and ignoring the distraught cry that Harry shouted at him, of "stop, Tom, stop it!"
Voldemort held the hand up to Harry's face, smearing the seed across the boy's lips.
"Whose is this, Harry? Who did you let fuck you? ANSWER ME!"
"What are you doing?" Harry hissed at him instead, anger finally colouring his
features, as he tried to buck Voldemort off of him. "Tom, get the fuck off of me now!"
Voldemort hissed angrily, feeling jealous once more, at the sound of his Horcrux's
name on Harry's lips, instead of his own.
"I said, answer me." Pale pink lips descended, brushing lightly across Harry's own
mouth as the boy struggled beneath him, mouth wet and sticky from where
Voldemort had wiped semen across it. It was so different from their last kiss, where
Harry had lay still and pliant as Voldemort tasted him, and the Dark Lord found he
preferred the first kiss, the one where he could almost pretend Harry wanted him
back.
"That was unnecessary," the Dark Lord told him, the closest to an apology that Harry
would ever get for this violation. Voldemort got off of him, moving back to lean
against the wall and he held his trembling hands behind his back where Harry would
not see them. "But I will find out who he is."

"Voldemort?" Harry breathed, eyes widening as realisation set in. This wasn't Tom
from the diary. This was the real Dark Lord, the real Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort,
master and commander and leader and lord all rolled into one, and he had pinned
Harry to a bed inside of his dreams twice in one night and touched him without
permission and forced kisses on him that Harry didn't want, and hurt him. And yet...
He still wasn't afraid. He should be, he knew that, but he wasn't. There was nothing
to fear from Lord Voldemort right now, except perhaps Lucius' safety, but Harry
would talk to the blond about that when he woke up. Now though, to deal with an
emotionally unstable Dark Lord. How did one go about doing as such anyway, Harry
wondered.
"It's ok," he said eventually, giving a small shrug. He sat up on the bed, curling his
legs into his chest to hide his private parts behind them. "I'd like to wake up now,
please, my Lord."
Voldemort waved his hand, a strange look crossing his face, before he was gone
and Harry was blinking furiously against the light shining in through the gap in his
bed curtains. His dormmates were awake; Harry could hear them moving around,
shuffling and stumbling and was that Cornfoot stubbing his toe on the edge of
Harry's trunk again, the stupid muggleborn? He wondered how Lucius would escape
unseen, and then realised it was a pointless thought, because he was alone in the
bed and Lucius was long gone.
"Harry?" Boot called softly, hesitant about dragging him out of the bed for the third
morning in a row. "You coming to breakfast?"
"Yeah," Harry said softly, glancing wistfully as the side of the pillow Lucius had lain
his head on, blond hair surrounding him like a halo, wanting to have been able to
wake beside the man again, like he had February 15th after losing his virginity. But it
made more sense this way. If Lucius had been here when Harry woke, he would
have gotten caught. Harry might be banned from seeing him on Hogwarts grounds,
and Snape might have gotten into a lot of trouble. But, still, Harry wished. "I'm getting
up now. I'll meet you in the common room in a moment."
When the dorm fell silent, and all of his roommates had left, Harry slid back his
duvet. There were hand shaped bruises on his hips, he noticed, standing in front of
the full length mirror that was mounted on the back of the door. His nipples were red
and swollen from Lucius' attentions, as were his lips, and there were hickeys on his
stomach and thighs and neck. There were bruises on his arse too, handprint and
finger-shaped, from Lucius' orgasms, where he had forgotten his own strength. After
casting a second locking spell, Harry turned around and bent over. He craned his
neck, trying to see what he looked like from behind. As far as he could tell, his back

was scratched up around his waist and his shoulders and his arsehole was horribly
red and puffy. He thought about asking Dobby (one of his courting gifts from Lucius,
though kind and loyal as any house elf could be, was a little exuberant, too much so
for a Malfoys tastes) for a cream or potion of some sort, because Harry didn't think
he'd be able to go to the toilet painlessly for at least a few days, and that just wasn't
healthy. But the mark that stood out the most was the only one that hadn't been left
by Lucius Malfoy.
On the left side of his neck, was the perfect imprint of teeth upon flesh. A complete
circle of teeth marks, overlapping with a hickey made by Lucius' teeth and tongue,
but darker, angrier, left on his skin within his dreams by Voldemort's jealous rage.
Harry loved Lucius, and he desired him and wanted to marry him, for them to be
together forever. But there was something thrilling about the Dark Lord (one of the
most powerful Wizards on the planet currently) desiring him enough to lose control in
such a manner, and for something as mundane as jealousy over a lover. Not a
betrayal, or a threat, or a traitor. Not from anger, or fear, or desire. But from jealousy!
If Harry told Lucius, the man would probably be half-paralysed by fear, awaiting
some sort of punishment from the Dark Lord for owning what the Lord coveted. But
after the fear had passed, the blond Wizard would probably be smug enough to rival
a peacock, Harry thought. It was tempting, he thought to himself, washing and
dressing for the day, underwear-less because the material of his boxers were too
tight on his bruises and his trousers were looser. Lucius would be jealous, and
Lucius' jealousy was a beautiful, satisfying thing. But Harry didn't think he could bear
the sight of Lucius' fear. The man should never have to fear anything, not Lord
Voldemort, and certainly not that Harry would ever leave him.
Because he wouldn't.
XXX
April 16th 1995. King's Cross.
Harry thought it might have been weird, seeing Narcissa for the first time since he
had technically stolen her husband. She was a free woman now, for the first time in
many, many years, and though while not divorced in the Muggle sense of the word,
her and Lucius were separated and free to do as they pleased with whom they
pleased. In Lucius' case, he was going to marry Harry once the boy was sixteen, and
Narcissa would continue to live in Malfoy Manor, with her son, Lord Malfoy, and his
teenage lover, and said lover's father on occasion.
Harry thought it would have been weirder. But this Easter, or Ishtar, break, which

was now coming to an end, had been wonderful and magical, just like every other
holiday Harry had ever spent at Malfoy Manor. Evan had been summoned to Riddle
Manor near the end of it, returning shaking from the after effects of the Cruciatus, but
smirking with amusement all the same. Lucius had passed the days working in his
office or close by Harry's side, and when Harry wasn't with Lucius, he was with
Draco, playing Quidditch or passing on some of the duelling moves he had learnt
from Professor Snape. Harry had told Lucius about the dream with Voldemort, which
probably contributed towards Lucius' possessiveness of him (or clinginess, if you
asked Evan's opinion), and Evan had told him about the Dark Lords interrogation,
his insistence on knowing Harry's lovers name" fianc, Evan soon corrected Lord
Voldemort "and then the gift of the Dark Lord's stifled congratulations which was
passed onto Harry. There were no more dreams of Voldemort over the two week
break, but the usual returns into the normal realms of a teenager boy's dreamscape,
where Lucius and sex featured equally to worrying about walking into class naked
someday2.
And Narcissa Malfoy, through it all, was her normal, kind and caring self. She always
included Harry in everything, spoke to him whenever he and Draco felt left out of
Evan and Lucius' discussions, comforted him if she found him in the kitchen or the
parlour after a nightmare, smoothed out the normal petty fights he and Draco had on
occasion about stupid things, just like she had done before Harry stole her husband.
She was the one to bring them both back to King's Cross, and to watch them load
their luggage into a carriage. Draco darted back over to give her a tight hug, and as
they broke apart, Narcissa held her arms out to Harry, who smiled softly, relieved,
and hugged her just as tightly as her son had.
He had thought it would be weird, spending the holidays with the woman who had
gotten divorced because of him, for him, but it wasn't weird at all. Spending the
holidays at Malfoy Manor had just been him coming home.
XXX
1 " Reminds me of the Lotto adverts in Ireland. Some of them are so stupid they are
funny, see: www dot youtube dot com/ watch ? v = CYOKzAp15 - k
2 " I've had that dream before. Funnily enough, the last time I had it was quiet a few
years ago (when I was actually still in school), and here's the funny part, that was the
day I walked half way to school before realising I had only put on the top half of my
uniform, and was still wearing my pyjama bottoms.... At 5.30am... Obviously, I ran
home and went back to bed till 8! And got properly dressed the next time I woke up
:P

Thanks for reading. Please review. Also, Butterfly has been translated into Chinese
and posted here, if anyone is interested: www_luvharry_net/bbs/index_php (replace
_ with dot)
Oh yeah, some of you might have seen this one facebook, but for those who
haven't... In my last exam, instead of writing "the official secrets act", I wrote "the
statute of secrecy", and while re-reading the paper before handing it up, I came
across that phrase and sat there for ten minutes staring at it, wondering why it didn't
sound right.... POTTERHEAD! Lol.
Butterfly should be completed in about two more chapters, so, hopefully, 50 in
total. Not bad. My longest story yet (unless you count all of the parts of the
Brothers in Arms series as a single story), and 10 chapters longer than I had
originally estimated.
...Yeah, I know, Theodore should have been at the train station at the end too, but
the scene was more about Harry feeling like he was still part of the family, having
been joining them for Holidays since he was eight, despite causing Narcissa and
Lucius' divorce. Think of it as a sort of backward child-blaming-himself-for-parentsdivorce thing, but with 'child' being the 'other woman'... :P

Chapter 49
This would have been up before the weekend, but I spent all of my free time rereading The Rise of the Drackens over at AFF (because FFnet took it down cause
some twat reported every single chapter because she has no life)...
And, now I'm sick, so if this chapter reads a little like a crazy person wrote it? Blame
the codeine... Now, read and review, and one more chapter to go :)
Words: 4,011
Chapter 49
April 21st 1995. Hogwarts.
"I don't see why you're bothering," Theodore whispered at him across their table in
the library.
Harry glanced up, lifting his quill from the parchment so that he wouldn't accidentally
make a mess of his work while his attention was otherwise occupied. His eyebrows
furrowed.
"What?" He whispered back, wary of Madame Pince overhearing them and kicking
them out.
It was difficult enough finding a place to study in peace this close to the final exams
without risking being kicked out of such a place. The library had been almost full
before breakfast had even finished. Harry, along with the majority of the other
Ravenclaws, had been some of the first people in there, hurrying to steal seats and
tables and books for themselves.
Hermione Granger had beaten them all to it. When Harry had seen her, she looked
as if she had waited outside of the library all night until Madame Pince opened the
doors, and she appeared not to have left since. It wouldn't have surprised him if she
had though. Out of everyone he knew, Hermione was the one most worried about
her performance on the upcoming exams, though, she didn't really need to be. At
least, not so much so that she should forgo food and water. Even Harry, who was
now sharing his table with Draco and Theo and their friend Blaise, had entrusted
them to mind his seat and gone for food. They had taken it in turns, sneaking food in
and rubbish out of the library, while someone remained to mind the table.
Normally no one would sit next to Hermione when she was studying, because she

was the one who forced the idea of a study plan down Harry's throat, and she had
been trying to do the same to a table of Hufflepuffs the weekend gone as well. But,
with the mock OWLs creeping closer, and places to study becoming an endangered
species, Ron Weasley had gritted his teeth, along with two other Gryffindors, and sat
down beside her at twenty past twelve. Ron didn't appear to be studying, but the
other two did. Harry wondered how he expected to pass these exams. They might
have been mocks, but failing one meant that you were no longer eligible to take that
subject into the actual OWL year, which would be bad, because then you wouldn't be
able to continue that subject into NEWT year. If he were a Muggle, this would be
around the time where Harry would joke that Ron would spend the rest of his life
pumping people's petrol for them.
"You don't need to study!" Theo continued, reaching over to try and pull the
parchment from Harry's hands.
Draco grabbed it first though, and allowed his eyes to flick over the writing. "He isn't
studying. He's making a study plan." Draco had one made as well, it was almost the
same as Harry's: two hours of studying this, food, two hours of studying that, break,
two hours of studying another, food, rinse and repeat as necessary. Blaise and Theo,
though, preferred to just pick up a book and read it until their eyes were tired, take a
break, and then pick up a less boring book. But Harry wanted to be thorough and
Draco wanted to do well and impress his parents, as he had every year.
Draco, Harry and Hermione were usually tied for the highest marks in their year
when it came to exams and overall assignment grades. Hermione, because she was
determined to prove that Muggleborns were as good as everyone else, Draco,
because he was smart and wanted to impress his parents, and Harry, because he
was capable and wanted everyone to know that he was Lord Voldemort's equal, like
Evan had raised him to be. Just because Voldemort's interest in him had appeared
to have changed from wanting him as an heir to wanting him as Lucius did didn't
mean that Harry had to stop striving to reach that level, to be equal to him, to be
greater.
"Just because I'm exempt from the exams because of the stupid tournament, doesn't
mean I don't need to learn this stuff, Theo. What if it comes up next year and
everyone knows it but me? You need to remember that I'm years behind the other
Champions, their exams are aimed towards excluding the parts they'd miss during
the tournament, mine aren't. Mine are aimed at every other fourteen year old who
wasn't forced to fight for fame and glory and you-know-what, and don't have to worry
about failing their exams because of it." Harry huffed, his arms folded across his
chest.

Harry reached for his parchment back, pulling it from Draco's grip and rolling it up
tightly before he tucked it into his bag. He nodded goodbye at his friends, glanced
briefly at Blaise who hadn't looked up once, and stood up. He pushed the chair out
and left the table, ignoring the horrified glance Hermione shot him for leaving his
table while there was still eleven hours in the day left to study, or Ron's envious
glare, wishing he could get up and leave too, but every time he shifted Hermione
cast another sticking spell on him and primly informed him that studying was
beneficial.
Harry made his way through the school, towards his Head of House's office, which
was only a few doors down from their Charms classroom. He knocked three times,
quickly, and waited.
"Harry?" Professor Flitwick asked, frowning slightly. "I would have thought you'd be
in the library by now? Though, you know there's no need for it this year, don't you."
"That's actually why I wanted to speak to you, sir, if I could?"
Flitwick stepped out of his doorway, moving backwards so that there was room for
Harry to step inside after him. When the door was closed behind them, the teenager
turned to his professor and smiled. "I would like the request the opportunity to take
my end of year exams along with the rest of my year mates, despite the fact that
participation in the tournament exempts me."
"Harry, are you sure?" Flitwick looked rather surprised. Though, Harry wasn't sure
why he would be. He was a Ravenclaw; he was always one of the first to finish a
Charm in class, or to hand up his assignment or to ask for extra credit. He was never
late to class and he never left early, not even when he was sick, though Draco had
tried to bring him to the Hospital wing that one time he almost collapsed in the
corridor.
And he was Harry Potter, heir to the Dark Lord, the one Ollivander said would do
great things, and he would, and he will, but first he had to study and learn and
become Igood/I at school, and greatness would follow. He was the son of Lily Evans,
the smartest witch of her generation, and James Potter, while lacking in common
sense hadn't been an idiot either. Evan Rosier had taught him all he knew, and
Severus Snape gave him extra lessons, and Lucius Malfoy loved him and would be
proud of him if he won. Lord Voldemort wanted him to win. Harry wanted to win, but
damn the lot of them if he didn't win on his own merits and not because the
tournament was fixed in Voldemort's favour. Passing his exams at the same time
would prove to anyone who questioned his victory that it was deserved, that he was
great and a winner and victorious.

He would win the tournament for Voldemort, but he would pass his mock OWLs with
flying colours for himself, on his own merits, because he could.
"Yes sir, I'm completely sure." Harry told his professor, his voice soft but sure and a
small smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Completely."
XXX
May 27th 1995.
He had been walking with Viktor Krum, the two of them talking quietly about politics
and exams and tournaments. But then they had passed the lake, and Viktor had
gone back to his boat, and Harry had continued to walk alone.
He was just passing the forest, when he caught movement out of the corner of his
eye. Harry stopped and turned, and squinted, trying to see clearly through his
glasses. His prescription was new enough, he had only got them the summer just
gone, but nothing would beat having twenty-twenty vision Harry knew. So, because
he couldn't make out who the person moving through the forest was from where he
stood, Harry walked closer to the edge of the forest, narrowing his eyes as the
person got clearer and more suspicious looking.
"Mr Crouch?" Harry whispered, sounding as shocked as he felt. Bartemius Crouch
Sr looked an awful state, his clothes were ripped and his hair was mused and there
was dirt across his face and hands and shirt. He was trembling too, murmuring
under his breath about something or other and Dumbledore, but Harry couldn't quite
make out what.
A hand falling heavily onto his shoulder had Harry jumping and turning in mid-air, his
wand falling easily into his hand and pointed unwaveringly at the man standing
behind him. Alastor Moody licked the edge of his lip, tongue flicking out and darting
back in again, like a frog's after flies. He watched Harry with wide eyes, though not
from fright or worry, but from excitement, and his one good eye seemed to glow with
glee as he eyed the wand in Harry's hand, waiting for him to use it, to give Mad-Eye
an excuse to teach the boy a lesson. But Harry didn't use it, he lowered his wand
instead, turning back to face the elder Crouch who was now curled up on the floor
whimpering at the sight of the professor.
"Do you think he needs help?" Harry whispered. Alastor wasn't who he said he was,
Harry knew that much, but whether he was under the Imperious, in disguise or
playing Harry for a fool was something the boy couldn't make up his mind about.
Discretion was necessary. He couldn't come straight out and ask the man if he was
working for Voldemort, though it was likely he was given his actions throughout the

year, because he was an old friend of Dumbledore's and might have just been trying
to trick Harry's true allegiance out of him all year instead.
"Yes, he does," Alastor whispered. His false eye swirled madly, darting from left to
right before staring straight ahead into the forest. "Follow me." He knelt down to grab
Crouch's hair, yanking the man painfully to his feet, before shepherding him further
away from the school. Harry followed warily, his wand still in his hand.
When they stopped moving, the older Wizard began shouting about Dumbledore and
the Imperious, and about his son, who as far as Harry knew was dead.
"Barty, no, no, no, Barty please!" The old man murmured to himself, falling to his
knees again. He turned to Harry, eyes wide and pleading and begged for his life.
Harry glanced up at Alastor, the name 'Barty' echoing through his head, like a
mantra, over and over, never quietening, not even as green light flared brightly and
Bartemius Sr. fell silent for good.
"Damn," Alastor groused, "maybe I should have offered you a go first? You could use
the practise, boy. It's always good to make a good impression on Him. He doesn't
tolerate failure well, He doesn't. Though, then, what He sees in you I will never
understand." His tongue was out again, flicking at the edges of his mouth. He
reached for his hip flask, uncorking it and taking a long, deep sip. A little of the liquid
dribbled onto the lapel of his coat, and Harry took a deep breath, smelling the
lacewings and the Boomslang skin, and thinking of "Barty, no, no, no, Barty", and
suddenly he knew.
He knew he had recognized the smell, knew there was a reason something niggled
at the back of his mind every time Snape complained about incompetent students
raiding his potions stores during detentions where he had been made to take stock
of his cupboards and always came up short. The way Alastor always drank from the
flask and nothing else, once every half hour, just to be safe. The behaviour, the
strange way Alastor treated Harry, half revering him and half hating him, and Harry
wondered who this man was to Lord Voldemort because the way he said "He" was
almost the way Harry spoke of Lucius.
"Barty..." Harry heard again in his mind, and thought, trying to remember, who was it
who had told him that Bartemius' son had died? Because Harry didn't think he had.
But there was no proof, other than the ramblings of a dead, mad man, and the stink
of Polyjuice potion of the fake-Moody's breath as he leant in close to Harry's face
and laughed.
"The Dark Lord will eat you alive, boy," Barty Crouch whispered, with his mouth

against Harry's cheek. The stink of Polyjuice potion, now that Harry had finally
recognized it, was unbearable. "And I pray He rewards me enough that I am there to
witness it."
"Yeah?" Harry asked, feeling spiteful and a little jealous, because Voldemort wanted
him now, not this imposter, and why should Harry be made to feel inferior and
discarded by this man, when the Dark Lord was all that mattered? "By 'eat' do you
mean kiss me breathless? Because that's what happened the last time I saw your
Dark Lord."
Harry didn't give him time to respond. He whirled around and began to make his way
back towards the castle. His hands shook, both from anger at Moody, and at himself
for giving so much away. What if Voldemort didn't want anyone knowing? What if
someone was watching and had overheard? He was supposed to be better than this,
calmer, surer, and he had acted like a jealous twat, mouthing off and flaunting a
relationship with Voldemort that didn't exist because Harry wouldn't let it. What would
Lucius think if he had heard?
Harry sighed loudly, tucking his wand into his pocket, and pushing those thoughts
out of his mind. What was said cannot be unsaid, Harry reminded him, and anyway
the lock of shock and horror on Moody's scarred face had totally been worth it.
Dumbledore found him as he was leaving the forest, and Harry had had no choice
but to try and make himself look upset, and explain that he and Professor Moody
had come across Bartemius' corpse in the forest and Harry had run from shock at
the sight. If Moody really was a Death Eater, then dropping him in it would do no
good. So Harry vouched for him, and when Moody was brought to Dumbledore's
office a few minutes after Harry, he was smart enough to go along with the story.
Harry must have fallen asleep. He didn't mean to, and he couldn't remember what he
was doing before he was sleeping, but when he opened his eyes he was still in
Dumbledore's office, but he was lying sideway in the armchair he had been sitting in,
his legs tucked up under him, and a soft blue blanket across his lap. The sun was
up, whereas it was pitch black only moments ago, or so Harry felt. He didn't feel like
he had been sleeping, merely resting his eyes perhaps, but the night had passed by
without him noticing, and now it was the next day.
"Ah, you're awake!" Dumbledore exclaimed cheerily, as he made his way into his
office. "Unfortunately, when I tried to wake you this morning I received a small
electric shock instead. Impressive work my boy, charming your wand to defend you
in your sleep, but it had the unfortunate side effect of meaning that you've missed
the official explanation regarding the third task. If you have a few moments before

breakfast ends, I could explain to you?"

Harry sat up in the chair, pushing the blanket down and flattening it so it covered his
legs but didn't bunch up around his waist. He nodded, allowing Dumbledore to pour
him a cup of tea and explain to him about the maze that had been grown over the
Quidditch pitch, and of the various trials and tribulations that he would face inside of
the maze.
The explanation wasn't all Harry had been hoping for, but he resolved to write to
Evan as soon as he was released from the Headmaster's office and ask for an actual
explanation. After all, he didn't know, still, how this tournament was to Voldemort's
benefit. No one had told him. No one had even hinted at how, as far as Harry could
remember. Yes, they had told him that this was what Voldemort wanted, his victory
was what Voldemort wanted, but there was no reason as to why. It drove Harry mad
at times trying to figure it out, reasoning and dismissing theories because they just
didn't fit. But Evan knew. And now, so close to the final task, Evan would have no
choice but to tell him, because if he didn't and Harry didn't know what to do,
everything could go wrong. The tournament would have been for nothing if Harry
failed at this final task.
And Lord Voldemort did not tolerate failure.
XXX
When Harry received a reply to the letter he had sent Evan, it contained a better
explanation of what the third task would entail. A maze, creatures that he shouldn't
have to worry about if their 'inside source', (Barty Jr, Harry's mind supplied) did his
job right, and finally a Portkey to the site of Lord Voldemort's resurrection. It all
depended on him, on his winning, and on his deception. The ritual required an
enemy. Evan would take care of the Dark Lord, but Harry was on his own, and both
he and his father hoped that his acting skills were up to par.
To pretend he had never met the Dark Lord? To pretend he hadn't knelt by his feet
while the man carded fingers through his hair, he hadn't dreamt about the man
naked and touching him, kissing him? That they had never spoken or demanded of
each other? To pretend Harry hadn't already sworn loyalty to a man of such calibre?
Such greatness, that Harry wouldn't dream of taking his vow back? How was it
possible?
How would Voldemort forget, when he was the one obsessed?
The letter came with a small vial filled with purple liquid, a tag attached to the cork
reading "drink me before bed". Harry did so, and when he woke the next morning he

could see clearly, without his glasses. But he was no clearer as to how to forget that
Lord Voldemort had ever entered his life.
XXX
May 31st 1995.
Harry was back in the dreamscape. He had no idea what else to call it, but he knew
it was either his mind or Voldemort's that played host to these meetings. They
weren't real life, but they weren't completely dreams either, because the bite mark
Voldemort had left upon him the last time had taken weeks to heal and it had been
completely real. So had the bruises the Dark Lord had left upon his wrists and hips,
and the taste and feel of his kisses were as real as Lucius', even if they had only
happened inside of his head.
Tom Riddle watched him, sitting in silence in a dark green armchair.
Harry moved towards him, perching on the arm of the chair, rather than sitting in the
matching piece of furniture opposite. He wondered what this was about, because
usually Voldemort was angrier when they met, jealous of Lucius though he didn't
know it, but now he was calm and quiet and patient and it worried Harry.
"What would you think of me if you had never met me?" Tom Riddle asked after a
few more minutes of silence.
And Harry realised what was going on. The Dark Lord knew of Evan's plan,
whatever it was, and though he didn't appear to be angry about it, he definitely
wasn't happy either.
"If I had never met you?" Harry gave a soft chuckle. "I wouldn't be here right now,
would I?" He turned, green eyes meeting Tom's red eyes" no, Voldemort's red eyes,
because Tom's had been blue.
The Dark Lord took his hands in his own, pulling lightly until Harry slipped from the
arm of the chair and sprawled in the elder man's lap. Harry moved his legs, slipping
them over the other arm of the chair, trying to get comfortable. Something was
pressing against the underside of his thigh, but Harry ignored it, focusing instead on
the one hand that moved to cup his cheek and turn his face towards Voldemort's.
Voldemort whispered against his lips, mouth soft and gentle against his own. "Would
you care about me if we had never met before?"
"It's not you," Harry told him softly. He brought a hand up to hold onto the wrist

attached to the hand that touched his face. "I love Lu- Him, I meet him first, not you.
And that is what makes the difference, not my knowing you at all. I'm sorry."
"Nonetheless," Voldemort murmured, giving no indication that he had noticed the
slip. "Let's pretend we've never met, Harry." And then his mouth was on Harry's, and
it was gentlest kiss he'd ever been given bar the first time Lucius had kissed him. It
was as if he was made of spun glass and Voldemort was afraid he would shatter if
touched too hard or too fast or too passionately. Voldemort's other hand was by his
forehead now, his wand pressing sharply into the skin above one eye, but Harry
stayed still and continued to let the man kiss him.
When they pulled apart, Harry was rolling, arms flailing before he fell, landing in a
pile on the floor of his common room. His book was discarded on the couch that he
had been sleeping on, and Luna watched him from the arm chair, her own book
upside down in her hands.
"Good dream?" She asked him, with a strange look in her eyes.
Harry frowned, his eyebrows furrowed in thought and confusion. "I don't know." He
told her honestly, picking himself up off of the ground. He flopped back down on the
sofa and picked up his Transfiguration textbook. "I can't remember what I was
dreaming about."
"You moaned 'Tom', if that helps any?" Luna told him, looking eager to see if her
information had actually been helpful.
Harry frowned again, curling his legs underneath him as he thought about 'Tom'.
There was a notion of safety, of friendship, and something deeper and darker on
Tom's part, but Harry couldn't quite recall what. So he said, honestly once more, "I
don't know anyone named Tom."
"Strange," Luna murmured, before she went back to her Arithmancy book.
Silently, Harry agreed with her, but he said nothing. There was a piece of parchment
tucked into his textbook, and Harry pulled it out and re-read the letter Evan had sent
him less than a week ago. But none of it made sense to him, none of it had a
purpose, because he didn't know who 'He' was, and he didn't know why his winning
would be so important to anyone. In fact, he didn't even know who Evan was. So he
folded the letter back up and tucked it back into the book, and went back to his
studying.
His exams started on the seventh of June, only a week from then, and the only exam
he was exempt from was History of Magic because it fell upon the same day as the

third task. He needed to study now; he could worry about missing memories, strange
dreams and confusing letters once the summer began.
XXX
If there is anything anyone would like to see in the sequel, no promises mind you,
but let me know anyway and I'll see if I can fit it in! Thanks!
Likelihood of reaching 2,000 reviews before I finish this story?

Chapter 50
It's taken over 3 years... I can't believe it's over. It doesn't seem right... Maybe if I just
post the sequel at this URL, I can pretend the story is continuing? :P
This chapter is for Elfin69 at FFNet, for being the first to realize that Harry's
memories were not gone for good. And also, for Zept at FFNet for 1) reminding me
that I have yet to formally announce the sequel (I will do so at the end of the
chapter), and 2) because they pointed out that I messed up my dates in the
prologue... I wrote "29th May 1995", and considering the last chapter ended on the
31st May, that can't be right. What I MEANT to put down was "June 24th", the day of
Harry's last exam...! My mistake.
Words: 4,615
Chapter 50
June 1st 1995. Hogwarts.
Harry woke that morning and put on his glasses, as he had done every morning
since his aunt had bought them for him when he was four. But this morning his
glasses didn't appear to want to work for him. Harry took them off again, glancing
around the room that appeared to be rather un-blurry, and put the glasses back on
again, watching as the room blurred around him.
He glanced down at the glasses in his hands, a frown on his lips. He had fallen
asleep on the sofa in the common room the night before. A rather strange dream
about kissing a man on a sofa had woken him, and though the man had had dark
hair, Harry assumed he had been dreaming of Lucius because who else would he
want to kiss? But he had woken, and Luna had been asking him questions, and he
had told her he didn't remember. But he could remember a man on a sofa now, that
he couldn't remember the night before, whatever that meant. And then he went to
bed, without his glasses.
Harry put his glasses back on again, and everything he looked at started to fuzz
around the edges. He took them off, folding the arms up and placing it gently on his
bedside table.
When did he stop needing glasses?
"Harry? You up?" Terry Boot called. Terry had taken on the role of making sure the
rest of his dormmates were up in time for breakfast and for first class, because the

last time Harry did it, he left the lone Muggleborn sleeping in until noon.
"I'm up."
Harry climbed out of his bed. There was a textbook on the foot of his bed, the one he
had been reading the night before. He had tucked a note between its pages, one
that spoke of Him and Portkeys and a potion that needed to be taken before bed.
Maybe that was the potion that fixed his eyes? Maybe if he read it again now, after a
full night's sleep, Harry would understand what it meant? But when he opened the
book, and even after he flicked through every page, he couldn't find the note. It just
wasn't there. He checked under his bed, in case it had fallen out and fluttered to the
floor, but it wasn't there, and it wasn't buried under his blankets nor had it slipped
down under his mattress. None of his dormmates had seen it, and none of them saw
the brown and green butterfly that sat perched above the doorframe like Poe's
raven, never flitting, still is sitting: keeping an eye on Harry Potter.
XXX
June 10th 1995.
Harry had spent the week feeling as if there was something within him missing. He
had noticed the butterfly, every morning, sitting above the entrance to the Ravenclaw
dorm, or in the windows of the Defence and Potions classrooms, but he had thought
nothing of it, because he didn't know the butterfly was Evan and he didn't know Evan
anyway.
"It was strange," he murmured to Draco, the son of his betrothed, casting suspicious
glances at Theo who was supposed to be their friend and live with Evan during the
summers but Harry couldn't ever remember living with him. Nor could he remember
how he had met Lucius. They had been in a park once, he remembered, vanishing
Harry's shoes and cast and Draco's buttons while Lucius talked to... someone. And
that was what was strange. There were half-memories. Half-thoughts and halffeelings. But something was missing, what was needed to make them whole was
gone, and though Harry often complained to Draco and Severus, who was friendlier
to him since their private lessons at Lucius' request, they both told him to put it out of
his mind, that nothing was wrong, that it was only exam stress playing tricks on him
(because that was what Lucius had told them to do, what Evan had told Lucius to tell
them and what Lord Voldemort had informed Evan to pass along).
Then there was Sirius Black. Sirius, who was convinced something bad was about to
happen, who kept offering to kidnap him from Hogwarts, who Harry lived with, who
should have been in Azkaban still because Harry couldn't think of a reason Lucius

would break the man out of prison. His aunt and uncle were capable of taking care of
him, weren't they? Not very good care, but still, they were there and alive (because
of course, without Evan no one had killed Vernon or framed Petunia, or lost Vernon
his job, or kept them out of the basement and made them angry with Harry). Sirius
Black hadn't been needed, though Harry remembered that he liked living with his
godfather. Even Remus was nice. But he couldn't remember why he lived with them.
Sirius was the only one who agreed that something strange was going on. The only
one who didn't think he was going mad, or was stressed out, or paranoid like
Professor Moody had told him he sounded.
There was something about Moody too. The way he licked the corner of his mouth.
The flask he only drank from. The smell that surrounded him, like boomslang and
copper cauldrons. They were in the forest, alone together, and at their feet was a
corpse of someone's father, and all Harry could think of was 'Polyjuice', but why?
Why would Moody need Polyjuice? To catch "His inside source"?
"Harry?" Hermione asked him, sounding concerned.
They were sitting together in the library, surrounded on all sides by other nervous
students. The first exams had started three days ago. Harry had sat two already and
he had a third the following day. And yet, in front of him were two letters that were
unopened, and another that made no sense.
Lucius' and Sirius' letters had been left till last. But the third one? The third one was
strange as well.
"Harry,
You know what to do. It might not seem like you know, not right now, but you'll
know when the time comes. Fight hard, caterpillar. Win.
A friend."
"What am I supposed to win?" He asked Hermione, moving to open Lucius' letter
next.
"The tournament," she told him, without looking up from her notes. "It's probably
from one of those Boy-Who-Lived fan clubs, and giving you a nickname makes them
feel like you're friends or something."
Usually, Hermione would be a lot sharper, she might have even figured it out, but
Evan spent a good portion of each night making sure that Hermione didn't get a wink

of sleep. When she wasn't studying, she was trying to escape nightmares or
insomnia, and her brain just wasn't up to its usual standard, which suited Evan just
fine. There were two more weeks before Harry could realise the truth, before the
Dark Lord would rise, and while Evan didn't think the memory loss was necessary
Lord Voldemort had done it without his knowledge or consent. What was done
couldn't be undone, not this close to the end game, not now that they had almost
won. All they had worked towards, all they had sacrificed, it was all about to pay off,
and all that was required was that Harry stay ignorant for two more weeks.
"What is it?" Hermione asked, finally looking up and noticing Harry's frown.
"Lucius wants me to spend the summer at the Manor."
"Don't you usually do that anyway? When you're not with Mr Black?"
"Yeah, but the other letter is from Sirius. He's really freaked out about everything that
is going on. He doesn't want me staying with Lucius or with Theodore or anyone. He
wants me, Remus and him to go to Rome for my birthday, but I think he means more
like a two month visit that coincides with my birthday and I come back just in time for
school, than actually going just for my birthday." Harry bit his bottom lip. "There's a
reason I don't want to go, I just can't think of why right now. But I've never been out
of the country before. That would be nice."
"Why don't you ask Sirius to spend your birthday in Rome and the rest of your
holidays split between his house and Mr Malfoy's?" Hermione suggested, once more
engrossed in her notes.
Harry looked at her, then at his unopened Transfigurations text and sighed. "Or I
could ignore them both and study so I don't fail horribly tomorrow morning?"
"Best idea I've ever heard," Hermione agreed softly.
Harry folded away his letters, but tucked the strange one from a stranger into his
pocket. He kept that one, because that person wanted him to win, that person
thought he could win. Harry would win, for himself, and for no one else, just like he
would do brilliantly on his exams. To do that though, he had to stop thinking about
who Tom could be, or Evan, or how he met Lucius, or came to live with Sirius.
Harry had to study.
XXX
June 24th 1995. Third Task.

Harry wasn't sure what had triggered the dreams, and at first he hadn't been sure
what they meant but he understood now. Evan Rosier was his father, not his
biological father of course, but he had protected him from the Muggles, had raised
him, fed him, clothed him and loved him. Evan had introduced Harry to Lucius, Evan
had freed Sirius from Azkaban as his uncle's corpse was discovered and his aunt
sent to prison. Evan was a Death Eater. Evan worked for Lord Voldemort, but Evan
had also promised Harry into His service.
That was who 'He' was, in that letter Harry had found within his textbook. Voldemort
wanted Harry to win the tournament, though he still did not know why.
In his dreams, when he wasn't remembering a boy named Tom kissing him on a dark
green armchair, he was with Evan in the house on Privet Drive, talking of caterpillars
and butterflies and a new era, or resurrecting the Dark Lord and of Harry being his
heir, Evan his most faithful, though there were no memories of Voldemort's jealousy
of Lucius, no memories of nakedness and kisses. Harry continued to tell himself that
the dark haired boy in the green armchair was Lucius, or a figment of his
imagination, because he had never seen him before, never kissed him before, and
he loved only Lucius. There were no dreams of Voldemort, none of Riddle Manor, or
Barty Crouch Jr., none of kneeling by the homunculus' feet while the Dark Lord
petted his hair or told him he was beautiful.
But he remembered Evan's loyalty to his Lord. He remembered his own promise, to
give the Dark Lord a chance, as long as the man didn't automatically try to kill him.
And he remembered that letter from a 'friend', from Evan who had always called him
Caterpillar before he started Hogwarts, he remembered to fight and to win and that
'the source' would help him win.
But Harry didn't need help, he thought to himself, wand held out in front of him as he
took his first few steps into the maze. It was just trees, lots and lots of trees, grown
over the space of a few days, across the length of the Quidditch pitch, high as the
sky or so it seemed and within it was the prize Harry was seeking.
He remembered reading about a Portkey, but that couldn't be right, because who
would leave a Portkey to the Dark Lord's location lying around where any of the
other three Champions could find it, or a teacher?
Harry walked on, first, as he was in the lead. Viktor Krum was second, followed by
Cedric and then Fleur, each with a ten minute interval between them all. Harry had
gotten lost three times before he realised that someone was screaming, a girl: Fleur.
That meant he had been within the maze at least half an hour, if not more, though it
seemed to have blurred together, time warping into itself until there was no time at

all. Just a maze, and Harry, and something he couldn't seem to find and all the time
to find it. But he didn't have all the time, he reminded himself, listening with one ear
as Fleur screamed.
The others were in the maze already.
Harry couldn't let them win.
In the spectator's stands, Mad-Eye Moody waved his wand, tucked up the sleeve of
his robe so that no one could see it. The tree in front of Harry, the third one that
Harry had been trapped behind, forced to turn around and make his way back to
where he started, suddenly jumped out of the way. Harry eyed it warily, eyebrows
furrowed.
"The source inside Hogwarts?" He murmured to himself, glancing over his shoulder
to see if any of the other champions had found him. There was no one there, no red
sparks in the air, and no invigilators appearing to tell him off for cheating. And so
Harry stepped through the gap left by the tree and chuckled softly as the tree moved
back into place. Harry was in the lead once again, and Fleur's screaming was so far
off now, still loud, but muffled by distance, and Harry continued closer and closer.
He was going to win. Even if he had to accept help.
XXX
Facing an Acromantula wasn't exactly what Harry had been expecting this close to
the end of the maze. But there one was, hissing at him angrily, though not speaking
like Aragog had. Pincers kept digging into the ground beside him, as Harry kept
rolling out of the way, to the left then to the right, each time missing being stabbed by
centimetres. Then Cedric's voice distracted him, and Harry looked up to see who it
was, before screaming loudly, horrifically, as the Acromantula finally managed to
land a hit.
The pincher had missed him, but the giant spider had managed to stand on his leg,
cutting straight down through the flesh and leaving a gaping wound that oozed and
pus-ed. Harry watched the wound for a moment, wondering at the horrid state of it
already, considering if maybe the spider was poisonous. He let Cedric fight off the
spider, figuring it was payback for Harry fighting off an Imperiused Viktor and saving
Cedric earlier.
When the spider was gone, the two boys lay panting on the floor. They were side by
side, and Harry looked over at Cedric warily, and then glanced towards the TriWizard Cup that waited innocently on a pedestal for one of them to claim. Neither

boy had the energy to get to their feet, but Harry had to win, he had to. How his
winning would help the Dark Lord, he didn't know, but Evan had told him to win, and
so he scrambled to his feet, biting off a cry of pain as his leg throbbed and bled, and
half crawled, half limped to the trophy. His hand rested on the pedestal, but nothing
happened. No one came to congratulate him, no Dark Lord's sprung up from the
ground, and a butterfly didn't return to lead him through the maze once more. Harry
stood there awkwardly, one hand on the pedestal and the other pushing against his
wound.
"You won, Potter. Congratulations." Cedric wheezed, limping his own way towards
them.
"No one's come to get us?" Harry questioned, looking around in confusion. He had
won. It was over. Now, he wanted to get his leg healed and grill Evan about why
exactly the Dark Lord wanted him to win and when, exactly, they would finally meet
each other.
"Maybe you have to touch the cup? Or shoot off red sparks too?" Cedric suggested.
Harry considered it, but sending off red sparks was for those who got into trouble
and needed to be collected. He had sent them for Viktor, who was cursed and
unconscious and had tried to kill Cedric. But Harry wasn't in trouble. Harry had won.
Would calling for help mean that he forfeited? "I'll take the cup." Then he thought
some more. "You might as well take it with me. Hogwarts will win anyway, and you
and I both know that I really won, but there's no point them coming to get me and
leaving you behind until you figure out another way to call them without forfeiting."
"You sure?" Cedric asked, slowly making his way closer. His back hurt, and all of his
muscles trembled from being held under the Cruciatus but his heart beat faster with
excitement. Harry was really going to let him go along, to stand together at the end,
victorious before a cheering crowd of students and teachers alike?
No one had come for them, not a professor nor a Death Eater. Whatever Voldemort
had hoped to achieve with his victory either came much, much later than the
tournament, or hadn't worked. There was no harm in feeling a little bit sorry for
Cedric, who could have grabbed the trophy from him while Harry was wallowing in
the dirt. "I'm sure. On three, yeah?"
They counted down together, one... two... three... and then their hands were on the
trophy and Harry suddenly felt like an idiot for forgetting about the Portkey that was
supposed to be there. It was too late to let it go, too late to make Cedric let go, and
as both of their hands closed around a handle each they were suddenly spinning

through the air, wind whistling by until a cemetery formed beneath them, and they
were dropped, spinning, beneath the shadow of a hill, with a house above them and
a church to their right, and gravestones all around them like a sea of silent witnesses
as a portly man came out from between them, wand glowing green as Harry stared,
lost in thought and confusion.
And then the spare was dead.
XXX
Harry didn't remember him, Voldemort knew that. He told himself that it was stupid to
feel slighted, idiotic of him for his heart to ache every time Harry looked at him warily,
as if fearing he would be struck or tortured. Even if Harry didn't remember him,
surely he knew how Voldemort felt for him? But that was stupid too, he thought,
because until a little while ago, on his knees before the boy, sucking the blood from
the wound on his arm, Voldemort hadn't remembered how he felt about the boy
either.
"Nagini, this is Harry Potter. He is my heir; I wish to teach him everything I
know. You will be respectful towards him, and you are never to bite him." The
Dark Lord informed his familiar, as she snaked her way to his feet, coiling around an
ankle before glancing over at Harry, her forked tongue flickering wildly.
The snake turned her head towards Harry, its forked tongue coming forward to taste
the air between them. "He looks like he would taste well, master, but I will not
eat him because you ask it."
"That is good to know," Harry murmured softly, eyeing the Dark Lord in confusion.
Something about the man was familiar to him, something about the man made him
want to feel safe. But he didn't. He didn't feel safe. This was Evan's Lord, not his
own, and regardless of what the small voice in the back of his mind whispered, Lord
Voldemort was very capable of hurting him.
"You are a Parseltongue," Voldemort said, though there was a hint of a question in it
as well. Evan had said as much, but Voldemort hadn't believed him. He had known
that Harry was a Horcrux, had watched the Tom in the diary talk to Harry about it,
and had Evan's assurances that it was true. But that another could become a
Parselmouth, through the transfer of magic? What else, then, could Harry have
taken from him, or vice versa?
No one could speak of it, Voldemort remembered Evan telling him. Dumbledore had
cast a ward over the school, which prevented anyone who had witnessed the
duelling event in Harry's second year from talking about it outside of the school

grounds unless Harry told them. Harry had spoken again, in front of him, for the
second time it seemed, though Voldemort could not remember whether Harry had
actually spoke while he was possessing Gilderoy Lockhart. There had been an
interaction with a snake, and students had insisted Harry had spoken to the snake,
but only a true Parselmouth would be able to tell if Harry had actually spoken, or if
he had just hissed hysterically in his fear of the attacking snake.
But this time, this time Harry had spoken, truly spoken. And Voldemort was awed by
it, and a little frightened as well. Because Harry was already so important to him, and
to Tom as well, and a Horcrux, and Evan's son, and now a fellow Parseltongue. Who
would not wish to hurt the boy once they knew of his connection to the Dark Lord?
Who would not think to weaken Voldemort with Harry's death?
So, when his Death Eaters arrived, Voldemort acted as he had done before he
remembered. He pulled Harry against him, squeezed his chin, before pushing him
away again. He grabbed his face, dragging the boy back to front against him, tight
against his chest, his lips moving against the boy's tanned skin, before shoving him
forward again. He watched, pretending it didn't matter, pretending he didn't want to
jump forward and pull the boy from Lucius Malfoy's arms as the blonde Wizard
caught him as he fell.
"I met Lu-him..." Harry had whispered, inside of his dreams before Voldemort had
taken his memories. "Lu-" He had said, before stopping himself mid-word. "Lucius
Malfoy," Evan had warned him, two nights ago, though at the time Voldemort couldn't
think why he would care who Harry was fucking. But now, though, his blood, Harry's
blood, burned within his veins and he wanted nothing more than to hurt the man who
held what he wanted, who owned what he coveted, and who was loved by the one
who should have loved him.
"So the rumours are true," Voldemort whispered, as he watched the blonde comfort
Harry. Evan knelt beside the teenager, wiping the blood from his forehead, and at the
sight of it Voldemort strode forward, crouching beside the boy and wincing at the
sight of his scar bloody and raw. "I apologize." He spoke in Parseltongue, because it
was their secret language, and no one but Harry would know how vulnerable he was
then.
Harry nodded back to him, smiling softly, cradled within Lucius' arms. Voldemort
couldn't stand the sight anymore, couldn't fight the longing to pull them apart.
"It is time to be getting back to Hogwarts, Harry."
"Yes Marvolo." The boy answered him softly, ignoring the gasps and cries of the

Death Eaters and the glares his father and lover sent them. Voldemort watched them
kissing, eyes narrowed and fists clenched, and flicked his wand. The Portkey and
the Hufflepuff's body flew through the air, and Lucius sprung away from his betrothed
just in time for the two items to crash into Harry's chest.
"Goodbye, for now, my Harry." The Dark Lord waved at him, just as the world began
to spin again.
XXX
It was as the world spun, and his insides twisted, and he fought the urge to vomit,
one arm around Cedric and the other gripping the Portkey tight, that he
remembered.
The boy in his dream, he had kissed him before in the Chamber of Secrets, while
Draco lay unconscious at his feet, half submerged in a lake of water. Again, in
Harry's mind, in Lucius' bedroom while he was naked and tied to the bed, and again,
in Voldemort's study, curled together in a green armchair as Harry was asked to
forget. But he couldn't forget, he hadn't forgotten, not really. The memories were
back, bright and vivid and new, as if he were reliving them again.
It had never been said, would probably never be said, but the Dark Lord revered
him. The way the man had looked up at him, after he had sucked blood from his
veins in his arm, full of wonder and desire and reverence. Harry knew that the man
felt for him like Lucius did, not love perhaps, but lust and desire and need.
Possession, obsession, yes, but not love, and that was what made the difference.
Lucius loved him, the Dark Lord didn't. He was Lucius'; despite the fact that Harry
almost thought he could love Voldemort too, because how close had he been to
loving Tom, if not for Lucius?
But that voice in his head had been right. Voldemort would not hurt him. And tonight,
he would see Voldemort in his dreams once more, apologise for his fear and his
wavering loyalty, and his memory loss, and he would bow before his Lord, on his
knees as the Dark Lord carded his fingers through his hair and told him how
beautiful he was.
But right now...
Right now he was falling towards the Quidditch pitch, Cedric falling from his arms
and the Portkey flying towards the crowd. He struck the ground with a ground,
crawling with tears in his eyes until he could lie over Cedric, his wand in one hand,
and the other gripping desperately to the front of Cedric's robes.

He glanced around quickly, and there was Barty Jr sipping from his hip flask and
watching with eyes wide and excited, and there was the green and brown butterfly
perched on his shoulder having left the Dark Lord's side to watch over Harry, and
there was Dumbledore, running towards him with fear on his face. It was show time,
he told himself, forcing tears to fall and whimpers to leave his lips. He thought of how
afraid he had been originally, though he tried to hide it, when he didn't know that
Voldemort wouldn't hurt him. He thought of the pain in his scar when Voldemort
tortured him accidentally, jealous and angry and wanting to claim the boy, but hurting
him instead. As he cried, Dumbledore asked him what was wrong, what had
happened, who had hurt him.
Harry was always told he was a bit like a Caterpillar and one day he'd be a Butterfly
too. That's what Evan had called him, Caterpillar, Caen from Evan's animagus form's
Latin name. Evan hadn't called him Caterpillar since he had started Hogwarts. In
Hogwarts, Harry had been within a cocoon, waiting, growing, strengthening,
preparing himself for what was to come. And now, now it had come, now it was time.
Harry could spread his wings, gossamer and beautiful and new, and take flight. He
would pull this off, he would trick Dumbledore and impress Voldemort, and he would
be great.
It was time for him to become a butterfly, to emerge new and whole into the new era
that waited for him, that he had helped create. With his last breath from within his
cocoon, before he burst free and took his rightful place in the world, he looked up at
Dumbledore, eyed red-rimmed and wet.
"He's back! Voldemort, he's back!" Harry told them, screaming it for all to hear.
Dumbledore pulled him closer, hiding Harry's face against his shoulder, trying to
comfort him. As the old Headmaster whispered about how everything would be ok,
Harry covered his face that little bit more, and grinned.
The End
If an explanation is needed: Evan was going to take Voldemort's memories, so that
he would act like a Dark Lord before the ritual. The spell broke with the ritual's
completion. For example, he might not have killed Cedric, who might have been
Harry's friend, if Voldemort had remembered how he felt about Harry, and then
Cedric would tell people, etc. Evan didn't take Harry's memories: in the letter, Evan
tells Harry to act. The spell was Voldemort's insurance policy. On one hand, it means
that while Harry remembers some stuff, he doesn't remember Voldemort as anything
other than a man who wants to kill him, thus, allowing the ritual to consider them
"enemies". On the other, how would Harry feel about him if they had never met?

Anyone who got that from the chapter, could have just skipped this, but I put it in
because a lot of people asked.
I think I tied it all up. If I didn't, well, damn. Point it out to me, and I'll work it into the
sequel.
Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I hope to see you all in the sequel (titled: On
Gossamer Wings [continuing the Butterfly/Lycaenidae theme]) when it arrives. But it
won't be for a while. I promised to work on Brothers in Arms once this story was
finished, and Through the Looking Glass, and the 20 one shots I have planned as
well. Thank you though! I'll put up a notification when I post the sequel!