lomonaaeren

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Chapter Six—Finding

“Potter?”

Harry grimaced and leaned his forehead on the wall for a moment. He had really hoped that he would manage to undo the Blindness Curse before either Gaunt or his mother found him.

But he was cautious about aiming his wand at his eyes, given that he had to wear glasses already, and he had always at least needed to see where he was casting something, even when he didn’t need to speak aloud. This was probably inevitable.

Harry sighed and turned around.

There was silence for a moment. Harry pictured Gaunt standing there and staring at him. He wondered absently if Gaunt didn’t see anything wrong, and started to open his mouth to explain.

Then he felt a cool hand on his forehead, over his scar. Harry startled and flinched backwards. He hadn’t expected Gaunt to touch him. His hand nearly rose to push Gaunt away, but he managed to pull it back, flexing his wrist, at the last moment.

“Who blinded you?” Gaunt whispered.

“What bastard lives in this house and doesn’t like me?”

Gaunt was still. Then he moved a wand that felt like a trickle of cool slime across Harry’s forehead, and murmured what Harry assumed had to be the countercurse.

Harry gasped as light flooded back into his eyes like water down a dry throat. He blinked and shook his head, wiped at his forehead, and moved away from Gaunt, who had him nearly pinned against the wall, but not quite. “Thanks,” he said, hand hanging down by his side where he could easily go for his wand as he shifted away. “What do I owe you?”

“You think you owe me something.”

“That’s the way people like you work,” Harry said, a little impatiently. He wasn’t in the mood to play word games right now. “You and Snape. You always think that people owe you for any bit of kindness you show them. What do you want?”

“Do not compare me to him,” Gaunt said, and wind moved through the kitchen without any air stirring. “I would never have blinded you.”

“Just, what? Poisoned me? Burned me? Used the Stinging Whip Curse?”

“You know what the Stinging Whip Curse is?”

Shit. Harry shook his head. Being blinded had really thrown him off his game. Snape had thrown him off his game. He ought to have marched out the door and not retorted or showed that he could be baited. “Never mind. Fine, you’re not like Snape in that you wouldn’t have blinded me. But you still want something. Right?”

“Tell me this,” Gaunt said, and he tilted his head the way a snake would, a gesture Harry hadn’t seen him make in a while. “Information. Tell me how you know what the Stinging Whip Curse is, and tell me why your stepfather did this.”

Harry gave a hollow laugh. It was less than Gaunt could have asked for, and more, in a lot of ways. But it would be worth it not to have to owe him anymore.

“He hates me. He hated my father, because my dad bullied him in school, and so he hates me. He blinded me out of hatred, and because I was talking back to him, and because he probably believed it would hurt my progress in my NEWTS.”

“Probably?”

Harry shrugged. “I can’t trust any of his motives. I don’t trust his motives for agreeing to allow me to study and take the exams in the first place, and communicate with my sisters.” He clenched his fists for a moment, not caring if Gaunt saw. The man already knew that Harry wasn’t nearly as cool and detached as he pretended to be.

“I also want the answer to another question. Why are you going along with this farce of studying and taking your NEWT instead of simply speaking to your sisters directly?”

“I tried that.”

Harry knew his answer was clipped, knew that Gaunt would ask more, but he hadn’t been prepared for the question and his words came out that way. He shut his eyes and breathed for a moment. Gaunt waited, then asked, “What do you mean?”

“I tried writing to them when I first left the country, when Jennifer was just entering Hogwarts and Rosanna was still a little kid.” Harry took a deep breath and let the cold flood out of him. It was years ago. It was over years ago. “The letters got intercepted. I tried again with a different bird, a friend’s. But…they have wards on them to prevent anyone from writing to them, because Mother is afraid that people who might try to target me with cursed post would also target them. I got—cursed with nightmares for it. The wards can’t be lifted or removed except with Mother’s permission. Or Snape’s, I suppose.”

“You don’t think the wards have been lifted?”

“They’ve probably been lifted for the duration of the time I’m in Britain, because I got a letter from Jennifer. But I don’t know if or when they might be put back.”

“I am surprised that a nightmare would deter you from trying to write again, as much as you seem to love them.”

Harry stared at him, then laughed. “You think it was one nightmare?”

“Tell me what it was.”

“I’ve had them ever since,” Harry said flatly. “Every night.”

Gaunt’s eyes widened. Then he said, “And that is how you know what the Stinging Whip Curse is.”

Harry nodded. “I tried again. I went to Hogwarts and waited in the Forbidden Forest for when Jennifer had a Hogsmeade weekend. I don’t know for sure what alerted Snape, whether it was because I’d already been affected by the wards around her or something else. But he showed up and cursed me.”

“The Stinging Whip can kill. How did you survive?”

“I Apparated straight away to a few friends of mine who keep healing potions on hand. One of them works with cursed objects on a regular basis.” That was, Harry thought, one way to describe Ron’s job working with Fred and George. “They managed to stanch the blood flow.”

“And did you tell them what happened?”

Harry smiled humorlessly. “No, or Snape wouldn’t be alive.” He could imagine the way Ron and Hermione would have stormed the house if he had told them the truth. It had kept him entertained when he was lying in bed recovering from the blood loss.

“Perhaps that would have been for the best.”

Harry shook his head. “Jennifer and Rosanna wouldn’t have forgiven me for killing their father. And they’re the only family I have left.”

Gaunt took an abrupt step towards him. Harry aimed his wand without thinking. Gaunt paused, inclining his head, but then continued moving the rest of the way forwards. His hand came to rest on Harry’s cheek. Harry stared at him, wand still aimed.

“You are giving up so much for your sisters,” Gaunt whispered. “I understand you better now. How you have stayed closer than you would have otherwise, how you tolerated growing up in an abusive home. Because you wanted to be near them.”

“Yes, obviously? That’s why you’re here in the first place. It’s not like there was some great mystery.”

“I simply understand it on a deeper level than I did.” Gaunt moved a step away from him, still as focused on Harry as a snake on its prey. “I would have killed him long ago.”

“And that’s one reason that you’re a great Potions teacher and a murderous bastard and I’m not.”

Gaunt half-smiled, his eyes piercing and direct. “When will you take your revenge on him?”

“There’s no way I could. I told you, Jennifer and Rosanna wouldn’t forgive me—”

“They need never know what happened. It need not be you that does it.”

The shadows around the kitchen seemed to deepen, stretching towards the walls and floor. Harry drew his breath in. Suddenly the air around him was warmer, as well as darker, and full of writhing shapes.

“No. Leave it.”

The shadows snapped back into position. Gaunt actually leaped back from Harry and stared at him in shock. Harry blinked. What was going on? He hadn’t tried any particular magic with those words, and they certainly weren’t an incantation.

“You speak Parseltongue,” Gaunt whispered.

Shit.

Harry straightened up, aware of the position of every object in the room, his hand still resting casually on his wand. He had kept this secret carefully, ever since he had discovered that he could talk to snakes and they could talk back when he was chatting with a snake Snape had kept for its shed skin. He hadn’t told Ron or Hermione, or Sirius, or Remus.

This gift didn’t come from his dad. Harry knew he would have heard at least one story from Sirius about it if it had. And Mother had never shown any sign that she could speak with snakes, either.

That meant it probably had something to do with the scar on his forehead and the night his dad had died to save him from Voldemort. That meant it was imperative to keep the secret.

“I’ll understand if you don’t want to teach me anymore,” Harry began, his voice as gentle as possible. He needed to be sure that he could cast a spell to Banish an object at Gaunt right away if he started cursing Harry. Harry didn’t think Gaunt would have Snape’s motivation to leave Harry alive to torment.

“Potter.” Gaunt took a step towards him. “What language am I speaking now?”

Harry’s eyes widened. It sounded—yes, it did sound like Parseltongue, if Harry concentrated. But that was different than the way that snakes spoke it, and snakes were all he had ever had to converse with.

“I speak it as well,” Gaunt whispered, and if his stare when he looked at Harry had been intense before, now his eyes were burning with it. “A family gift. Tell me how you do.”

Harry swallowed. He didn’t want to spill this secret, but he didn’t want, even more, to know what Gaunt would do if he didn’t.

He reached up and slid his fringe aside to reveal his scar.

“A scar cannot give someone the power of Parseltongue.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s the only answer I have for you,” he said, keeping a snake firmly in mind, so he didn’t lapse back into English. He had the funny feeling Gaunt wouldn’t forgive that right now. “I know that I never talked that way as a baby, because Mother used to tell me stories about life before Dad died, and she never mentioned it. So the only thing that makes sense is for it to have started after the attack.”

Gaunt took in a long, rattling inhalation that made him sound like an Inferius trying to get a breath. “No one else ever heard you speaking it?”

“I kept it as secret as I can. And I think if someone had heard me, I would have known by their reaction.”

“Yes.” Gaunt gazed at Harry’s scar with something like hunger. “British wizards are not shy with their prejudices.” He turned so that he was meeting Harry’s eyes.

Harry would have stumbled back if he wasn’t already standing with the wall behind him. Gaunt’s expression wouldn’t have been out of place on a Nundu.

“I am pleased beyond measure, Harry.” Gaunt tilted his head. “I thought that perhaps the scar might have had side-effects. I already mentioned that I used to think you would have grown up spoiled because of it. But to learn that this was an effect…I am most pleased.”

“Why?” Harry dared to ask. “If it’s normally a family gift, I’d think you wouldn’t want to share it.”

Gaunt simply smiled. It was getting easier and easier for Harry to speak Parseltongue when looking at him; that smile had a lot in common with a snake’s lidless stare.

“If I had an abundance of family, I might resent this.” Gaunt reached out, and Harry was frozen enough by what he was hearing to stand still as Gaunt’s fingers slid over his forehead. “But I do not. I have always been mostly alone. Now I have you.”

“What did I say about the touching?”

Gaunt paused, then pulled his hand back. “You are right, Harry. Forgive me for being so excited that I forgot.”

His voice was deep, and didn’t sound at all as though he was begging for forgiveness. Harry eyed him for a moment, but Gaunt didn’t move, didn’t attack, and didn’t look as dangerous as he had a few minutes ago. On the other hand, he didn’t look away, either.

Harry turned his head to the side, coughed, and switched back to English. “Jennifer and Rosanna would probably always suspect I had something to do with Snape’s death. I don’t want to do that to them.”

“You could do anything you wanted. Your gifts are that strong.”

“Being a Parselmouth doesn’t make me a strong wizard.”

Gaunt laughed, another noisy, rattling thing, but then, mercifully, switched back into English. “I hope that you know your stepfather must be punished. He was breaking the terms of the bargain he himself had set, ridiculous though those terms might be. And he attempted to damage a Parselmouth.”

“You wouldn’t feel that way if I hadn’t revealed that I speak Parseltongue.”

“Of course not. And you wouldn’t want to destroy Snape if he wasn’t an abusive stepfather.” Gaunt canted his head. “Do you often make statements based in alternate realities that are not true?”

Harry gritted his teeth and rubbed his hand over his forehead for a moment. His scar seemed hotter than usual. “No.”

“Well.” Gaunt folded his arms. “I will do something about Snape one way or the other, Harry. You can take part in the vengeance, or you can be left behind and protected like a damsel in distress.”

“You were a Slytherin, weren’t you.”

“I hardly had a conventional education. But if you mean that I have the blood of that great Founder, I am happy to accept the compliment.”

Harry gave up on pursing that argument further. “I want to be part of the vengeance, yes. But I told you the problems with its being traced back to me—”

“And now you have someone on your side who can make sure that it is not.” Gaunt gave Harry a sharp, winsome smile. “Who can be surprised that an uninvolved outside party became outraged when hearing of the abuse?”’

“You want to do this for your own reasons.”

“I always want things for my own reasons, Harry. That is something you should learn quickly. But that does not mean they cannot benefit others.”

Gaunt had reached out and had hold of his wrist. Harry looked down at those fingers that seemed hotter than most, like the scales of a snake warmed by the sun, and breathed out slowly.

Well, in the end, why not? Even though Harry thought Lily had to be aware of the abuse, she had never done anything to stop it. Nothing that Harry had done had been enough, either. His reflexes were still beaten down and cautious around Snape, as he had proven today. He didn’t react quickly enough to win, convinced in part of himself that it was useless.

“Very well,” he whispered, and Gaunt’s smile was hotter than his hold.

*

Harry paused as he slid a book back into place in the library. He’d been looking up ancient, Dark, and cursed jewelry, trying to figure out what the locket in his mother’s study was. When he’d entered, the library had been empty.

Now there were voices behind a shelf. Harry held absolutely still, closed his eyes, and cast a wordless spell with nothing more than a twitch of his fingers. The air between him and the voices altered, conducting sound waves better.

“—not what we anticipated.”

“We could never be sure that he would simply attack.”

Mother and Snape. Harry continued to hold still, although he dearly wanted to cast a Disillusionment Charm or the like so that he could sneak closer. But Snape probably had wards splayed out around him to catch any hint of motion, and Mother might have more of the damn Listening Charms.

“But we should be seeing something by now.” Snape’s voice deepened. “Have you reached that point in your revision of the charms yet, Lily?”

Snape knows about the Listening Charms. He knows!

Harry’s soaring, accelerating heartbeat crashed in the next instant. There was no reason Snape shouldn’t know. But it did mean that he’d felt confident enough to cast the Blinding Curse at Harry, even knowing she would hear it.

Depending on how long she had been listening, Snape might have done all the other abuse with the knowledge of those charms, too.

And Mother had never said a word about it.

Harry had to breathe carefully so that his own pounding blood wouldn’t overwhelm the sound of their voices. Later, he promised himself, tucking his reaction away. Later, when I can think about it.

“No, I haven’t reached it yet. But it doesn’t matter. I’m already seeing some changes in my crystals. There’s been a change in a Horcrux at a fundamental level.”

Horcrux. Harry clung to that word, and made a note to himself to ask Gaunt about it.

“So the experiment is working?”

“We knew it would work, Severus.” From the small sound that followed that, Mother might have laid her hand on Snape’s shoulder. “We just don’t know what the end result will be.”

“I hope that you know what you’re doing, Lily. And that you’re right that all the arrogance and cruelty I’ve punished in Potter is the result of that thing.”

Mother didn’t respond. Harry stood there with his eyes closed, listening until they left the library and let the door fall shut behind them.

Then he stood there some more.

The abuse that Snape had heaped on him was part of an experiment his mother was running. She had said nothing when Snape had accused him of arrogance and cruelty, when he had called it punishment.

She knew, and she had done nothing. She had sacrificed him to the experiment and to whatever a Horcrux was.

Harry opened his eyes, not really surprised to find out he couldn’t cry. There were no tears deep enough for this.

Emotions rioted through him, and he thought of going to Ron and Hermione, to Sirius and Remus. But none of them would understand. None of them would give Harry what he needed now, which was some outlet for the emotion.

Harry strode out of the library, shaking, and to his bedroom, where he climbed through the window. Then he snapped his wand forwards. His stag Patronus appeared, looked around for enemies, and then turned to Harry, pawing the ground.

“Message for Tom Gaunt,” Harry whispered, his throat dry as his mother’s heart. “I need to duel. I need it. Come and meet me outside the wards of the house.”

Prongs reared and then leaped, fading. Harry walked towards the edge of the wards, consumed by the thundering blood in his veins, unable to speak.

He needed to destroy something, to fight someone who wouldn’t hold back or scold him for casting the kinds of spells he needed. And for that, Gaunt was the only choice.