Chapter Nine of 'The Onyx in Radiance'- Bring Him Around

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Chapter Nine—Bring Him Around

“Mr. Potter.”

Harry looked up and blinked before he could stop himself. He had thought Charlus Potter was a fourth-year. And if there were any other Potters in the school, then Dumbledore hadn’t mentioned them during the time they’d spent together during the summer.

He looked around the classroom, Professor Merrythought’s Defense Against the Dark Arts, only to find everyone staring at him. Harry turned back towards Professor Merrythought and waited.

“Yes, I am talking to you, Mr. Potter,” said Professor Merrythought, a tall, stern woman with dark hair piled up on the top of her head. She rapped her wand against her leg. “I understand that you got an Outstanding on your Defense OWL, so you belong in this class. Tell me a function of the Patronus Charm besides repelling Dementors.”

“Um, Professor, my last name’s Evans, not Potter,” Harry said, trying to sound as respectful as he could.

The professor actually rolled her eyes. “Anyone can see that you’re a Potter with that hair, Mr. Potter. Answer the question, unless you’re incapable of doing it.”

“My last name’s Evans, Professor,” Harry said, and decided that maybe she would leave him alone if he did answer the question. “But a Patronus can repel a Lethifold as well as a Dementor.”

Professor Merrythought nodded. “Correct, Mr. Potter. Take two points for Slytherin.”

“Professor—”

“I detest lies,” Professor Merrythought said, and pointed her wand at him for a moment. “Maybe your family is ashamed of your illegitimacy, or maybe your mother was a Muggle. I don’t care. In my classroom, you’ll wear your true name. Now, Mr. Brooke…” And she turned away to the Ravenclaws on the other side of the room.

Harry glared at her back. His name was Evans, not Potter.

Then again, he thought, he didn’t have to worry much about it. The word would probably get back to Charlus Potter, and he would deny it, and that would be the end of it.

“She’s right. I don’t know how I didn’t see the resemblance before,” Orion Black murmured on one side of him.

Harry sat there and fumed for a second, wondering how he could make them think less of him. A lot of his plans depended on the Slytherins just ignoring him because he wasn’t worthy of notice. The last thing he needed was for them to start paying attention.

“Are you a Potter or not?” Black challenged then, leaning forwards with something that resembled an expression of actual interest far too much.

“Of course not,” Harry said, and focused on Merrythought as she turned around again and began lecturing.

But Black wouldn’t give it up. He made sure to walk beside Harry on the way out of class, and on their way to Herbology, shooting Harry a crooked smile that might have been engaging if Harry didn’t remember Sirius’s rants about his father. “It’s no shame if you’re illegitimate, you know. A child can’t help the circumstances of its birth.”

Harry blinked at him. “I didn’t think a pureblood would say that. Aren’t you prejudiced against everyone you think is a Mudblood?”

Black opened his mouth, then shut it. His face was cautious now. “I mean, I didn’t think you were…exactly…”

“Uh-huh.” Harry quickened his steps a little to get out in front of the Slytherins on the way to the greenhouses. Black dropped behind him, although Harry could feel his calculating gaze.

And where he was looking, Riddle would be, too.

Harry grimaced at the thought of his Housemates thinking he was a Potter. The only thing worse would be if they did and so did the professors. But he didn’t think the others would care that much or have Merrythought’s intolerance for what she saw as deception. After all, no one had thought he looked like a Potter until Merrythought pointed it out.

Hopefully it was just a rumor that would die away by lunchtime.

*

“Harry!”

Orion has to smile as he watches Alphard run over to Harry the minute he steps into the common room. It’s long past Alphard’s supposed bedtime, but like that would let him stop him from seeing his hero, Orion thinks indulgently.

Harry smiles at Alphard. “Hey, Alphard.”

“Did you beat him?”

The question seems to hang, vibrating, in the air of the common room. Some seventh-year students turn around and stare. Fourth-years look up from their homework. Lucianna Malfoy, a second cousin of Abraxas’s, isn’t even pretending not to stare, although usually she acts like the whole common room is beneath her notice.

Harry bends down a little so that he’s looking Alphard more in the eyes. It should look ridiculous, and maybe it does to some people; Orion wouldn’t know about that. But to him, it looks like the perfect gesture, the perfect reassurance. He conceals a sigh behind his hand.

“I beat him,” Harry says calmly. “You don’t have to worry about him again.”

Alphard throws himself at Harry and hugs him. Orion blinks. That’s the kind of display that was more excusable right after Riddle used the Imperius Curse on him; no one would expect it of a Black older than the toddler stage other than at a moment like that one. Lucianna has lowered her book and is gaping now, eyes wide and silvery.

“He shouldn’t make that promise.”

Orion cants his head back to listen to Abraxas without taking his eyes from Harry and Alphard. “What do you mean?”

“Riddle can—he still could hurt Alphard, especially because Harry isn’t around him all the time the way he is with us in classes. Harry shouldn’t make that promise when it could be easily broken.”

“I think he would anyway,” Orion says softly. “Look at the way he is with Alphard.”

“What do you mean?”

Orion nods to the way that Harry is hugging Alphard back with a slightly awkward embrace. Even when he steps away, he’s smiling, and he doesn’t drive Alphard away from him. He’s asking questions about Alphard’s Transfiguration homework, from the sound. “He’s interested in him. As a person. He doesn’t just see him as a stepping stone to political power, or someone to be appeased and set aside. Harry is going to dedicate himself to Alphard’s political protection because he cares about him.”

“Well, fuck.”

“What?” Orion turns around to face Abraxas and waves his wand to lift a Silencing Charm around them. Harry is the center of the drama right now, but someone could turn around and decide that it’s interesting to listen to the Black and the Malfoy have a spat any second.

Abraxas shakes his head, eyes wide. “I signed on to follow a powerful leader, Orion. Not someone who adopts every stray kitten and kid who crosses his path!”

Orion sighs through his nose. “That is the source of his power, you idiot.”

“I’ve never heard of something like that. Can’t you only use people for magical power if you sacrifice them?”

“Not magical power! Political power!” Orion is grateful for the Silencing Charm when he realizes he’s almost yelling and Abraxas is staring at him with wide eyes. He lowers his voice. “He cares about people, so they want to follow him. Can you say that you would have followed him, no matter how strong he is, if he was just Riddle all over again?”

“Well, no. Of course not. But this makes him weaker than I’d like.”

“No, he’s strong—”

“Orion!”

Harry’s calling him. Orion gives Abraxas a warning glance and takes down the Silencing Charm, then walks over to Harry, smiling. “Congratulations on your victory.”

“Yeah, whatever.” A blush touches Harry’s cheeks and then fades. “Anyway, could you please tell Alphard that I’m fine? He doesn’t believe me for some reason.”

Orion starts to answer, then pauses when he notices blood trickling down Harry’s back. “That’s because you’ve torn your back open again,” he says sharply, and casts a charm that will stop the flow, although it won’t close the wound. “You have to go see Madam Eldiss tomorrow.”

“What story are we going to tell her?” Harry drawls, far too casually for someone who’s had his back ripped open, in Orion’s opinion.

“You think you’re the first person to come to her with mysterious injuries? Or, I should say, the first Slytherin in Riddle’s year?”

Harry stares at him. “And she never did anything about it? Never reported it to Dippet? To Dumbledore?”

Orion sneers. “Like Dumbledore would act on the word of a Slytherin. Dippet might, but he wouldn’t do anything if it was revealed it was Riddle. He’s wrapped around Riddle’s little finger. He’d coo and cluck and flutter and then decide in the end that it was all a misunderstanding, or one of us had provoked ‘poor dear Tom,’ or whatever.”

“That’s not right.”

Harry’s voice is flat, his eyes almost glowing. Orion sighs. He finds Harry’s nearly Gryffindor-like tendencies attractive, but there’s also the fact that he appears to be plotting murder when he already took Riddle apart once that night and really needs to sleep.

And, oh, yes, while he’s bleeding from the back.

“Perhaps it’s not,” Orion says. He has already learned that he gets further with Harry when he doesn’t outright disagree with him. He gently puts his arm around Harry’s shoulders, well above the wound that still trembles as if it wants to break open, and guides Harry towards the sixth-year boys’ bedroom. “But you can’t do anything about it by making yourself a martyr. You’ll go to Madam Eldiss in the morning, right?”

“Yes. Okay. Before breakfast.”

Orion rolls his eyes at nothing and stays beside Harry as they carefully mount the stairs. Abraxas and Alphard remain in the common room, and Orion thinks the balance of disapproval from the one and hero-worship from the other is about equal.

No one is in the bedroom, which Orion was half-braced for. He’s just as glad that he can ease Harry into bed and doesn’t have to worry about Riddle’s hateful stare or remarks that Harry looks weak from the others.

Harry yawns as Orion coaxes him to get undressed, managing to get up on his knees and sleepily shrug his robes off from the front. Orion carefully does as much of the work as he can so Harry won’t strain his wound.

Then he stops and stares.

“I know I must be fit as hell,” Harry mutters, collapsing onto the bed on his stomach and burying his face in the pillow, “but I want to go to sleep right now.”

“Of course, Harry,” Orion says, and resists the impulse to kiss Harry’s temple or even touch his shoulder. He wants Harry awake enough to enjoy it when he does begin touching him. “I hope you sleep well.”

Harry mumbles something at him. Orion retreats and shuts the curtains around his bed with a flick of his wand. He glances at Riddle’s bed, but there’s no sign of him. Maybe he’s wandering the corridors and plotting revenge. Orion nods at the thought. He wouldn’t put it past Riddle.

“What’s wrong, Orion? You look like Harry turned into a ghost in front of you.”

“He has scars,” Orion says, and turns to Abraxas as he slips into the room.

“That’s not unusual, is it?” Abraxas stretches and slumps down onto his own bed. Orion has to hide a smile. No matter what his friend says, he’s as relieved to be free of Riddle’s control as Orion is, maybe more. “With the way you’ve told me he flies, he’s probably crashed into the ground more than once.”

Orion’s smile fades as he remembers some of those scars. “I don’t think a broom crash inflicted those. I don’t think anything magical did.”

Abraxas blinks at him. “Huh?”

“He looks as though he got beat up on a regular basis,” Orion says harshly. He only knows what that looks like because he’s seen the way that some of the younger Slytherins looked after Gryffindors pummeled them (and younger Gryffindors who tangled with Slytherins, sometimes, too, to be fair). “And the scars are on his back, where he probably couldn’t reach them or heal them easily.”

“I still don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Imagine how high his pain tolerance must be to bear that kind of wound without complaining.” Orion jerks his head at Harry’s still curtains. “Where do you think it came from, Abraxas? Who has he been living with if he’s a half-blood illegitimate child of the Potters?”

Abraxas’s eyes widen. “You think Muggles beat him up?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense. Unless you believe the Potters were traveling to wherever he lived to ‘teach him his place’ on a regular basis.”

“No. No, I don’t think so. Charlus would have reacted differently to him if it was like that. And I don’t think—they would have used wands.”

Orion nods. “And I can’t really believe the Potters would do a thing like that anyway,” he concedes reluctantly. He doesn’t have a high opinion of Charlus Potter or his family, but there’s a difference between “stupid” and “abusive.” “And if it was from Dark curses, then I think Harry would be more relaxed around Dark Arts than he is.”

“Yeah.” Abraxas breathes out shakily. “We can’t let this get out, Orion.”

“I agree.” But Orion isn’t agreeing for the same reasons. Abraxas is worried that it’ll make their new Lord weak if other people think he got beaten up by Muggles. Orion is worried that it’ll mean invading Harry’s privacy. He would probably be upset if he thought that Orion saw the scars, because he’s absurdly private, sometimes.

It strikes Orion how little he knows about Harry, really. That he’s a Potter, that he’s powerful, that he’s willing to take risks and has a strong sense of right and wrong. That he’s a half-blood, and hates Riddle, and he’s an excellent flyer. And…that’s about it.

No, wait. I know that he was willing to have me court him, too.

But Orion has to wonder now how much of that came from Harry not realizing how strong and desirable he is, so that he snatched the first offer to give him some protection and shelter that came along.

Well. If he is first choice out of desperation, Orion can still make sure that Harry never regrets it.

*

“Mr. Potter.”

Madam Eldiss’s voice is horrified and disapproving, the way Orion knew it would be. He leans back and listens smugly to her clucking and Harry trying to say something about how the wound isn’t that bad and he never would have neglected it if he had known it was that bad and he meant to come in last night but—

“A Dark curse caused this. Who cast it?”

Harry goes still. Orion meets his eyes from where he sits on a chair beside the bed and shrugs. This is Harry’s choice, how he wants to play it.

Harry turns his head a little so that he can see the mediwitch from where he’s lying on his stomach. “Tom Riddle.”

Madam Eldiss is silent, her grip tightening around her wand. She’s an older witch, with grey hair hanging free to her waist and sharp black eyes set in a face almost as dark. She steps back from Harry and circles around the bed, as if she wants to get sight of the full wound before she says anything else.

Orion knows how it’s going to end. Madam Eldiss doesn’t seem as enamored of Riddle as most of the other professors do, but she has always avoided reporting anything that would get him in trouble.

“Even here, he has power.” Madam Eldiss’s voice sounds old and tired. “I am sorry, Mr. Potter, but if I reported this to the Headmaster, it would go no further. He would make excuses.”

“I know that, Madam Eldiss.” Harry rocks up on his elbows and ignores the hiss that Orion can’t keep himself from making. His back still looks awful. “I don’t expect you to. Just heal me as best you can, please.”

“Of course I can heal you!”

Madam Eldiss goes off on a long tirade, then, but Orion doesn’t bother to pay attention to it. He’s holding Harry’s eyes, and Harry is locking him in place with the same radiant green gaze that Orion knows so well by now.

Harry won’t let this stand. It’s not enough for him to have broken Riddle’s hold over the Knights of Walpurgis. He’ll want to go further and break the hold of fear or deception that Riddle has over the other professors, as well.

Orion half-smiles and nods to him. He knows what Harry is asking with that one look. He’ll follow wherever Harry leads.

He’s committed now.

*

“You’re not a Potter.”

Riddle begins his retaliation when they’re on their way to Transfiguration, probably thinking that Harry won’t dare snap back too much in front of Dumbledore. He has his head bowed and hissing words that aren’t Parseltongue whispering through his lips. The clot of Slytherins stops and turns around to watch, as do some Gryffindors on their way to the same class.

Harry looks at Riddle with an odd smile playing around his lips. “Well, I did tell people I was an Evans, you know. Not my fault that no one believed me.”

“I wrote to the Ministry archives,” Riddle says softly. He’s standing in the middle of the corridor with his wand held neatly in his hand, poised as if he’ll begin an attack any second. But Orion doesn’t think it’s his imagination that Riddle is still hunched over a little, as if to protect his groin. “They sent me the records of all Potter births in the last half century. Yours wasn’t there. You’re claiming a name that isn’t even yours.” He raises his voice. “If he’s lying about that, what else can we trust him with?”

A murmur sweeps through the Knights—former Knights—on the scene, although Orion can’t tell which way it’s going. He glances at Harry.

Harry smiles a little and says, “Oh, I think you can trust me with your personal possessions, at least.” And he turns and lifts something almost to the top of a robe pocket over his heart. Orion squints. He can’t make it out well, especially since Harry almost immediately drops it back into concealment. It looks like the corner of…a little black book?

The effect on Riddle is dramatic. He staggers a step back and then whips his wand towards Harry, furious Parseltongue breaking from his lips.

“Mr. Riddle.”

Dumbledore’s cold disapproval works better than a Freezing Charm. Riddle lowers his wand and stares at Harry with deadly eyes for a second, then pushes past everyone into the Transfiguration classroom.

“Mr. Potter, is everything all right?”

Orion hopes that Harry doesn’t fall for Dumbledore’s faux-concern. From the shadow in his eyes, he isn’t planning to, but he still smiles.

“I’m fine, sir,” he says, and walks past Dumbledore, Orion and Abraxas at his shoulders.

“What is it you have?” Orion whispers, during the bustle of everyone sitting down, the only chance he’ll have to talk freely during the class without Dumbledore trying to shame him for it.

Harry faces him and winks. “Insurance.”

And Orion feels his heart bound and soar at the look on Harry’s face. He doesn’t know what Harry means. He doesn’t know what Riddle will try next, which is a little worrying.

But at the moment, he doesn’t think he has to know, or worry. Harry will take care of everything, and if he can’t…well, being a step ahead of Riddle and an unacknowledged Lord is a good start.