Chapter Two of 'The Onyx in Radiance'- Accumulating Debts

[lomonaaeren]

Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Two—Accumulating Debts

Harry opened his eyes, and was nowhere.

No, wait, he thought irritably a second later. Of course he was somewhere. Everywhere was somewhere. He was sprawled on something cold and hard, and when he rolled over, he found himself staring up at a cloudy sky. He was obviously outdoors, and surrounded by stone walls, and—cobblestones?

Harry scrambled to his feet, staring around, panting. The last thing he remembered was being locked into his bedroom at the Dursleys’. He’d done a little of his summer homework, but the remembered pain of Sirius’s death had made him go to bed early. He’d lain down and stared at the ceiling while Hedwig hooted softly in her cage.

Hedwig!

Harry whipped around, staring. But there seemed to be no sign of her. He was definitely outdoors, definitely in some place that seemed to be the middle of a city, and definitely not at the Dursleys’.

Harry swallowed, a small click of his throat. Then he clenched his fists. Maybe someone had brought him here with magic. Maybe they’d intended to send him somewhere else but misfired the spell. Harry would find out. He would make sure that Hedwig was safe, and he was safe, and then he would go back to the Dursleys’. Not because he wanted to, but because he wanted to make sure that he didn’t cause another situation like the one with Sirius because he went running into danger.

For now, he had to determine where the hell he was.

Harry carefully peered around the corner of the alley nearest him. It showed another alley, stretching on between small, dark buildings. Harry frowned. This did look like a city, but it was quieter than he thought any city would ever be.

And I’m not in Diagon Alley, because I know I would recognize that.

Harry uncertainly made his way around the corner and slouched towards the place that the alley appeared to run into another one. He hoped that Dudley’s rags wouldn’t make him stand out too much or make the shopkeepers think he was going to rob them. He thought the small buildings were shops, not houses, although it was hard to tell when none of them seemed to have signs—

Then a person in robes stepped out of the nearest shop.

Harry nearly stumbled, but managed to keep walking. He even turned his head away a little, so that the person wouldn’t think Harry was staring at them. Probably he shouldn’t act as though he was scared, even though this confirmed it was magic that had snatched him away, but he couldn’t help walking a little faster.

“Boy!”

Harry turned around, one hand dropping towards his pocket on automatic reflex. He was beyond startled to find his wand there. Why would someone Apparate him out of the house to try and get at him but leave his wand with him?

Well, that was one point at least in favor of this being a magical accident.

“Yes?” Harry snapped, facing the woman who had stepped out of a corner between buildings. She was hunched over, and a robe draped over so much of her that Harry couldn’t see her face.

“Want a vial of dragon’s blood?” she whispered, her voice ending in a sharp cackle. She held out something towards him that was dark red and smoky and stirred disgustingly in the glass vial.

“N-no, thanks.” Harry lowered his wand but backed away, keeping an eye on the woman, who he thought was probably a hag, until he was closer to the end of the alley. Luckily, she seemed to lose interest in him and turned around to stare at someone else coming out of a shop near her.

Now Harry knew where he was. He thought it should have been obvious. He was in Knockturn Alley.

He quickened his steps towards the far end, eager to get back to Diagon Alley and try to figure out what had happened. Maybe he could make his way to the Leaky Cauldron and ask Tom to use the Floo. If he Flooed Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall would probably answer. Or maybe Professor Dumbledore, and one of them could come get him and take him back to the Dursleys’. Or send someone.

No one else tried to talk to him, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped into Diagon Alley—a sigh that only lasted until he got a good look at the buildings.

It looked different. Yes, people were still walking about in robes and pointed hats, but there were a lot more of them than Harry had thought would be out, given the threat of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, and they seemed a lot more relaxed. And when he looked around, Harry couldn’t see any sign of Fred and George’s shop. He knew from Ron’s letters where it should be and what it looked like, but—

Nothing.

Heartbeat loud in his throat, Harry started heading towards the Leaky Cauldron. At least that would be in the same place, and maybe he could figure out what in the world was going on.

*

“You are mine, are you not, Orion?”

Orion braces a shaking hand on the floor of the Knights’ meeting room, deep in the dungeons and a good distance from the Slytherin common room, and bobs his head back and forth. It has taken everything he has to make it to his knees.

Riddle used the Cruciatus on him, and nothing has ever hurt so much.

“Good.” Riddle’s feet and robe hems come into view, pacing back and forth in front of him. Orion bows his head further and stares at his own hands, the fine tremors making their way through his fingers. “See that you do not forget again. I will require you to come to me if Potter shows any intention of challenging my place in Slytherin.”

“Y-yes, my lord.”

At least his voice only trembles a little, less than his fingers. Orion can be proud of that much.

“Good. Go now.”

Orion manages to stand and bow—although that nearly sends him to the floor and certainly sends his stomach scrambling—before he has to turn and leave. He’s limping, but he tries to walk as straight as he can. There are Gryffindors and others who would leap in a second to take advantage of his weakness. Even some of the other Knights.

He closes his eyes when he rounds a corner that’s on the way back to the common room and manages to lean against the wall for a second. His stomach is twitching, and he swallows again and again to calm it. At least the tear tracks on his face are dry when he reaches up a hand.

Fear burns in him. Pain burns in him. Shame.

But nothing is as strong as the hatred.

If Orion had been wavering on the fence between Harry and Riddle, this would have tipped him over. Riddle has power, yes. He has Parseltongue, yes. In Slytherin, those facts are enough to ensure that he reigns supreme, or did until Harry challenged him.

But he doesn’t have the right to make Orion crawl. To torture him. And that’s what the Cruciatus Curse is.

At least Orion can be absolutely sure that Harry will never use that on him. He’s not the sort.

“Orion?”

The voice makes him jump and spin around, then collapse back against the wall with a harsh noise that he hopes at least doesn’t sound like a sob. Harry is standing in front of him, eyes wide, one hand clutching his wand and the other reaching out as if he wants to take Orion’s hand.

“Orion, what happened—”

Harry’s voice cuts off. Orion studies him warily from half-lowered eyes, wondering what Harry saw or thinks he saw that would make him react that way. Then he realizes Harry is staring at his shaking hands. He draws in a harsh breath of his own.

Orion looks up and catches the emotion that makes its way across Harry’s face. It’s not fear, or pity, both of which Orion would accept but find disappointing. It’s rage, pure incandescent rage that makes a phoenix’s fire look cool.

Then Harry abruptly shuts it away. He steps forwards and turns a little to the side, offering his shoulder. Orion hesitates, then leans on it, and Harry begins to walk him slowly back towards the common room.

“He did it because of me, didn’t he.”

Harry speaks in a flat voice, and it’s not a question. Orion simply keeps quiet. He doesn’t want to do anything that could be construed as agreement in case Riddle rips into his mind with Legilimency later.

But Harry doesn’t need the confirmation. He’s muttering things under his breath by the time they get to the door of the common room. Threats, they sound like. Orion can only hope that Harry can make them come to pass. Yes, Harry dueled Riddle to a standstill in the common room, but that doesn’t mean he can do it again.

Some of Orion’s hopes and dreams centered around Harry seem like delusions to him now, when his whole body is still filled with pain. Once again, he hates Riddle, but he doesn’t know how he can take revenge on him, any more than Abraxas managed to after Riddle tortured him last year.

Harry would never use that curse on someone who followed him. But the very fact that he won’t makes Orion wonder how in the world Harry intends to get them through this. Will he really be able to challenge Riddle without the Dark Arts? And he seemed pretty fucking opposed to learning any.

They’ve reached the door of the common room when Orion manages to shift back so that he’s leaning against the wall. “Let me go in alone,” he whispers. He can’t bear to watch the expressions on people’s faces if they see Harry supporting him.

Harry stares at him for a long second, searching for what Orion doesn’t know, before he nods and steps back. He speaks the password and the wall opens. Harry does pause to look back once, and murmur, “Don’t be surprised at anything I do tomorrow. I see now that I have to do it.”

Then he walks in and leaves Orion staring at his back, baffled. He wonders for a second if Harry means that he’s going to pick up Dark Arts anymore, but Harry seemed so opposed to it in the library…

Orion shakes his head and leans on the wall, closing his eyes. He concentrates on the tremors in his hands and legs, willing them to stop, forcing them to stop, pressing down so hard that it feels as if he’s about to rupture something in his legs or head.

Then he stands up, shakes out his back, and speaks the password himself. And his voice doesn’t tremble, not at all.

*

“How bad was it?”

Abraxas is waiting for him in the morning when Orion comes down to the common room. Orion nods and sits down on the couch next to him. He wants to wait a moment before they walk to breakfast.

“No worse than yours.” And that’s the truth.

Abraxas swallows. The look in his eyes is one that Orion would only accept from him, from someone else who has been on the wrong end of Riddle’s wand and knows what it’s like to suffer the Unforgivable. “All right. Well, let’s go to breakfast and—discuss what we should do next.”

Orion nods. He still wants to have hope that Harry can save them from Riddle, and his despairing mood of last night has lifted after a little sleep. But he doesn’t know if he still believes in Harry or just wants to believe in Harry.

As they stand up, Orion sees Riddle come to his feet. For a second, Orion tenses, thinking Riddle is about to continue his punishment or humiliate him.

But Riddle only coughs loudly, drawing the attention of everyone currently in the common room. Riddle looks around with his lip curled and his wand twirling in his hand, and Orion wonders for a moment how he ever allowed himself to be fooled by that handsome façade. Riddle’s contempt for everyone else is as clear as Veritaserum if someone only looks for it.

Riddle says, “You were witness, a few days ago, to a duel that some of you might have thought I lost. I am about to show you that that loss was only part of a larger plan, and I am, and always will be, the most prominent duelist in Slytherin.”

Murmurs stir through the common room for a second before everyone falls silent. Eyes turn to Harry, who’s sitting in his usual place. Harry looks up with a smooth, blank expression Orion has never seen him use before.

“You were saying something, Riddle?” Harry keeps his voice low. Orion knows that’s deliberate, but he’s not sure what the ploy is. Is Harry hoping to show people that he’s not afraid of Riddle?

Much good that will do, if Riddle tortures him. No one will ever forget the sight of Harry screaming under the Cruciatus Curse, and it’ll destroy any power he could have had.

“I am saying,” Riddle says, and steps towards him, “that I am the ruling power in Slytherin, and that I demand you stand up and face me. Unless you fear me?”

‘I don’t fear you. And I don’t need to stand to face you.” Harry leans forwards, looking almost resigned now to whatever’s about to come, whatever that is, and opens his mouth.

A long hiss rolls out.

Orion nearly loses his balance on the seat next to Abraxas, and not because of any lingering effects from the Cruciatus. He hears sharp cries all over the common room as carved snakes come to life on the couch Harry’s sitting on and swarm down the legs to the floor, facing Riddle with their wooden necks projecting and wooden fangs clearly bared.

Riddle has gone as pale as whey. He stares at Harry and doesn’t reply in Parseltongue, the way Orion thought he would. Perhaps he doesn’t know what to do.

“I can command the snakes of Slytherin,” Harry says, and smiles. Orion thinks he might be the only one who sees the deep unhappiness buried under that smile. “I can speak the language of serpents. You hold half the people here in awe with your Slytherin heritage and your pride, Riddle. Well, where is that pride now?”

Riddle finally unfreezes and snaps something in Parseltongue. Harry answers, and Riddle’s face grows paler still. Orion is rabidly curious to know what was said, but one thing he thinks he knows: Riddle tested Harry to see if his comprehension of the language was a fluke or if he only knew the way to command snakes.

Obviously, it wasn’t a fluke.

Riddle turns around and storms up the stairs to the sixth-year boys’ bedroom. That leaves everyone there staring at Harry and his snakes.

Harry looks back at them, and then his expression flickers with discomfort. He reaches out and moves his hand in what looks like a soothing gesture, hissing. The carved snakes climb up the legs of the couch and go still again. Harry stands, reaches for his bag on the floor, and strides towards the door.

Orion and Abraxas exchange glances and scramble after him before anyone else can decide to make a move.

*

“You’re a Parselmouth.”

Orion said it once, but Abraxas is the one who can’t stop saying it. Orion probably would have joined him, but his delight is too deep for words, and hope is rushing through him again like the restoration of feeling to a numbed limb.

“Yes.” Harry doesn’t look back at them and keeps walking towards the Great Hall. It’s a little early for breakfast, but Orion and Abraxas keep pace.

“Why did you only reveal it now? It would have earned you respect in Slytherin from the very first night—”

“I don’t want respect!”

Harry wheels around, and Orion slams to a halt. Harry’s eyes are dark green, glinting, more than a hint of desperation there, as if he’s trapped. Orion nearly reaches out, but he suspects Harry wouldn’t appreciate that right now, so he folds his hands against his chest and just watches.

“I don’t want power! I don’t want to challenge Riddle! I don’t want to—I don’t know, to become some sort of general or Slytherin genius or Heir of Slytherin or—whatever it is that Riddle is.” Harry waves a wild hand, then rakes it through his hair, which turns wild in turn. “But I knew I had to do something when I realized he’d tortured Orion for no reason other than that Orion was spending time around me and Riddle probably saw that as defiance somehow. This’ll make him back up for a little, and we can plan a next move.”

Harry exhales, hard. “I don’t want power,” he repeats, softly, firmly.

Orion and Abraxas exchange a glance. Orion doesn’t see the exasperation he expected from Abraxas, or at least not as much as he thought he would. Abraxas looks a little thoughtful, a little accepting, a little grave.

But underneath all of that is the same conclusion Orion has already come to. Whether Harry wants it or not, power is what he’s going to have. Even the Slytherins who aren’t Knights of Walpurgis are in awe of Riddle’s power, some half-convinced it’s a mystical connection to their founder and gives him a mystical right to rule over the House. Orion knows it’s the main reason why Riddle hasn’t faced any serious challenges since third year and why the current seventh-year students haven’t tried to crush him.

Now, someone else has shown up and declared that power isn’t so unique after all. Or, rather, that’s what Orion thinks Harry hoped to show everyone. What it’s really shown them is that Riddle might not be the person who’s fated to rule the House or lead them.

Now, other people are going to look at Harry and see a potential leader.

Orion hides a smile. He really couldn’t have envisioned a better way to get Harry into a position of power, not even if he’d managed to coax Harry into taking up the Dark Arts.

“We’ll help you handle it,” Orion promises, and Harry jerks his head up and stares at him for a moment, blinking hard, as if trying to see through Orion’s pretense to the truth beneath.

But it’s not a pretense, and Harry nods, seeming to accept that. “All right. Then let’s go to breakfast.”

Harry stalks off again. Abraxas follows Orion, and Orion follows Harry.

It’s a procession Orion thinks he could get used to.