lomonaaeren

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Chapter Thirty-Five—Reliance

Remus stared at Sirius, curled up asleep in his dog form. Well, his new dog form. He looked rather like a heavy wolfhound now, his grey fur reflecting the lupine shape that he had when he transformed under the full moon.

Or on Remus’s command.

Remus closed his eyes and took a long, slow breath. He had developed the werewolf potion from a base the Dark Lord had handed him because keeping control of the Imperius over Sirius was tiring him out. This way, he could have control of Sirius—the potion ensured that the transformed person obeyed the one who gave them the potion—and relax sometimes.

He had once thought that passing on his curse to someone else would be the worst thing that could happen. He had been sure that he would want to die if he did.

But now he knew the actual worst thing.

Standing back when they’d left Harry to grow up as an abused child with Lily’s sister. Fighting his friends hard enough to make them exile him, but not hard enough to make them reconsider their insane plan. Remus might have suffered if he’d passed his curse on, but not the way Harry had.

Remus sat there and waited for the guilt. It had sharper claws than his form as Moony, he knew. It tore him apart on a regular basis, and had for years. It should be there now.

But it was quiet. So was the guilt he might have expected because he’d transformed Sirius.

Remus opened his eyes and gave a little smile. He’d changed more than he’d thought when he threw in his lot with the Dark Lord. He’d thought, then, that he would do it for the sake of revenge, and he would keep his disagreements with the Dark Lord’s methods and his principles to himself, and he would return to a semblance of his old life once the Dark Lord ceased to be interested in him.

Now he knew that wouldn’t happen. Oh, the Dark Lord might still lose interest in him, of course, but Remus would go on rejoicing in the strength that he’d had since he reunited with his wolf, and learning the magic that now came more easily to him, and picking up Potions again as a trade.

Now that I can afford the ingredients.

Sirius stirred and whimpered in his sleep. Remus cocked his head and watched his friend. The man who had been his friend, rather.

He’d thought that, along with the guilt coming back, he’d lose the taste for vengeance pretty quickly. It might be fun to watch someone writhe under torture, he’d thought at the time, but surely it would pale.

So far, though, it hadn’t.

He only wished that James was still walking and seeing, so that he could more clearly be aware that Remus was destroying his Ministry career.

Remus shrugged. It didn’t matter that much. The important thing was that he was going to do some interesting and satisfying things to James and Lily, using Sirius as his instrument. He had thought that probably his thirst for revenge would be satisfied by ten years of suffering, the amount Harry had had to go through.

In that one thing, Remus was the person he had been. His own suffering—through thirteen years rather than ten—didn’t strike him as that important. But Harry’s?

It didn’t matter, not to Remus, that the geas would keep him from telling Harry why he was doing this or who they might have been to each other. Harry still lived, and he had clawed his way to a position of importance using tactics that he wouldn’t have had to if his parents and godfather had acted responsibility.

This is dedicated to your memory, Harry.

*

Flames sprang up around the diary. They didn’t harm it, of course, but the book flipped open and writing began to scrawl across the first page. Lord Voldemort stood too far away to read it, but he knew what it would say without looking.

How dare you do this, how dare you even try to harm me, I am special, I am important, I deserve to be treasured…

I was a self-important little snot as a teenager, Lord Voldemort thought, with a shake of his head, and waved his hand. The flames springing up around the brazier and the ritual circle the diary sat in the middle of died.

The fire was a sign that he’d failed, once again, to use the diary to track the cup Horcrux.

Lord Voldemort sighed and closed his eyes. He still had options. Using one of the other Horcruxes might work better. And he could retrieve them. He might have been too busy so far to do so, but that didn’t matter.

He would do this. He could do this.

And if the ritual ultimately failed, he could still spread the word through his followers that anyone in magical Britain sheltering “Hugh Fawley” would endure Lord Voldemort’s displeasure. There would still be a few people who would risk it, but far fewer than otherwise.

Lord Voldemort nodded slowly. Yes, that was what he would do. And turn to a few neglected matters in the meantime, such as making sure that Harry’s Dark Arts education continued to advance.

The boy has a real talent. I will not deny him what he needs to grow.

*

“You really don’t have a meeting with Everett this weekend?”

Harry smiled up at Theo where he stood at the end of the couch Harry was sprawled on. “No. I can go with you and Draco and drape all over you while whispering disgusting nothings into your ear.”

“I think I’ll pass on that,” Theo said, looking a little nauseated. He moved Harry’s legs gently and sat down next to him. “But it’s good that you can come with us. I’ve heard a few people whispering rumors that our courtship isn’t real and just a political stunt to prevent other people from approaching us.”

“Rumors started by Parkinson?”

“I wasn’t sure. Do you think she’s the one who did it?”

“Almost certainly. She wants Draco for herself, enough to confront us before the Yule Ball. She won’t give up just because we scared her off once.”

“She would be wise to.”

From the way Theo’s fingers curled down at his side and his eyes went flat, Harry thought that Parkinson might have backed off if she could have seen Theo right then. But she couldn’t, so Harry appreciated the display by curling close to Theo and watching him with a small smile.

“You aren’t afraid of me.”

“Are you saying that I should be, Prince of Darkness?”

Theo blinked at Harry for a moment, then muttered, “The Prince of Darkness was a Dark Lord in the sixteenth century. I don’t think that you’re really comparing me to him…”

“Only if the comparison is flattering,” Harry said, while feeling a tug of curiosity. He’d have to read up on that Dark Lord sometime and see if maybe they’d been Muggleborn and referencing Muggle religion. He hauled himself up to kiss Theo lightly, pulling back with a soft laugh when Theo would have deepened it. “But the question remains. Do you think I should be afraid of you? And why?”

“Most people have been.” Theo’s voice was serious enough that Harry cocked his head and paid more attention than he had been when he thought Theo just wanted to make some jokes. “Because of my family’s reputation, and my father’s.”

“Well, you’re not your father, and he actually welcomed me to his home. I know that you spoke of using that family ritual of yours to decide whether you should begin courting me, so I’m not afraid of the Nott family magic, either.”

“I would kill for you.”

“I would do the same.”

For a long moment, they simply gazed into each other’s eyes. Even last year, Harry thought, he would have felt ridiculous doing this. But a lot had changed in the last few months. Now, no one would dare to snicker at him and Theo for doing this.

No, they hide in the shadows and spread rumors like Parkinson does.

Harry nodded to the voice in his head and drew back a little. It would be just as well to remember that, he thought. He had to make sure that he didn’t get careless and overlook threats just because they weren’t open.

“Can anyone courting you join in, or is this a private party?”

“That depends,” Theo said, and turned to give Draco a look of such intensity that Harry could feel Draco shivering without looking at him. “Are you going to contribute something to this party, or just stand there and make insulting remarks?”

“I’m sure I can think of something you’d like, Theo.”

Theo flushed bright pink, and Harry had to hold back his laughter. He moved over on the couch to make room for Draco—the couch was more than big enough for that—and watched his two suitors with heated eyes. They made sure to include him in the flirting, but Harry was content to nod and return small remarks and otherwise not engage much.

He was saving some of that for tomorrow, and their first uninterrupted Hogsmeade date.

*

Draco adjusted the hang of his robes as they passed down the path to Hogsmeade. Even though it was April now, it was still plenty cold, with not much sunshine, and his robes were the thick kind that could become disarrayed and drag in the dirt if he wasn’t careful.

Still, they were more than worth the price of such vigilance. Theo kept stealing glances at him that slid up and down Draco’s body as if he couldn’t believe Draco looked so good in dark blue. And Harry looked at him much more often than he ever had before.

Not that they didn’t look fine, too, Draco had to admit to himself. Theo wore grey, as he usually did, but it made him look as if he were a great bird of prey with billowing wings, who had chosen to walk on the earth for his own reasons. And Harry had chosen a lighter shade of blue that made his eyes pick it up and shine.

“Admiring us?” Theo, who was walking between Harry and Draco, asked in an undertone.

“Admiring my own good sense in choosing you,” Draco said, lifting his nose into the air.

Harry smiled at him, and it was maybe the easiest smile Draco had ever seen him wear. It went home to his heart like a knife made of pure pleasure. Draco knew he was staring. He managed to swallow noisily and get over it, but he was sure they’d both seen.

Harry kept smiling that unmasked smile, though. “I didn’t get to spend enough time in Tomes and Scrolls when I met Everett. Let’s go there.”

“Yes, and of course Honeydukes,” Theo agreed.

Draco wanted to prance in place. Theo liked some kinds of expensive chocolates, but he didn’t enjoy most of Honeydukes’s offerings. He was going there for Draco.

One of his mother’s questions came back to him, when he had spoken with her about courting Theo. Do you think that they can love you, Draco? Both of them?

Draco wasn’t foolish enough to think that they were both in love with him yet, but he was surer, every day, that they could be.

And that he could return the emotion.

*

Harry came out of Tomes and Scrolls with an armful of books that Theo and Draco were already competing to take from him. He laughed and shook his head. “You know that I have a Bottomless Bag from Everett, right?”

“We can hold them while you get it ready to pack the books,” Draco said, sticking his nose into the air in a way that Harry thought he shouldn’t find that endearing.

Theo just smiled, shifting the books in his arms. Harry shook his head and dug for the bag.

He’d just pulled it out when someone up the street screamed. Harry swung around, and saw a figure in a tattered cloak striding down the main street of Hogsmeade.

He stared. The man looked a little like the Dark Lord, in his height and the furious red flare of his eyes, but his face seemed to be melted, and he had a sloping forehead that made him look as if he were caught in the middle of a transformation. And he was randomly cursing children in the middle of Hogsmeade. That was a difference, too.

Harry reached out and caught both Theo’s and Draco’s wrists in a tight grip, ignoring the way that his bag dropped to the ground. “We have to get out of here,” he breathed.

Theo nodded. He had already dropped the books and drawn his wand with the hand that Harry wasn’t holding. Draco, meanwhile, looked frozen, books slipping through his fingers as he stared and stared.

Unfortunately, speaking seemed to have drawn the fake Dark Lord’s attention. He swung around and focused on them, and let out a low hiss that built up quickly into a sound like steam whistling from a teakettle.

“You! His!”

He lunged straight towards Harry, his wand spitting out a bright green curse that Harry knew all too well from his Dark Arts studies.

Harry launched himself backwards, pulling harshly on Theo and Draco’s arms so they fell to the ground with him. Then he twisted and rose to his feet, his magic digging into the earth at the imposter’s feet.

The man stumbled as Harry made holes appear before him, then flinched back from the rain of small stones that Harry had sent flying at him. When the stones deflected off a shield he’d raised, though, he appeared more insane than ever. His mouth was open for what seemed to be another attempt to scream the Killing Curse.

Harry turned to his most instinctive defense, forgetting about his wand. A torrent of flames vomited from the air in front of the imposter and engulfed him.

The man screamed in a voice that sounded almost human. He was flailing back and forth, trying to enchant the flames on himself to go out. Harry knew well enough that no spell would work on that fire, though, because it was made of his rage, and would burn as long as he felt that emotion.

Maybe the imposter realized that, because he aimed his wand at Harry again.

This time, someone else’s curse sprang from the left and caught the imposter. Harry spun in that direction to see Theo aiming his wand, his face bloodless but his arm steady. He was casting something that Harry couldn’t identify, since it was silent.

Whatever it was, it made large, long, bloody scratches appear on the imposter’s face and chest, as if an invisible leopard were lunging towards him and clawing him. The man screamed again, and lost control of whatever spell he was attempting.

“Frangere!” Draco’s voice rang out.

The shield hovering in front of the man that had beaten back Harry’s rocks deflected Draco’s Bone-Breaker, as well, but it was a valiant attempt. And Harry could focus the flames now. He drove them into the man’s eyes, his ears, his nostrils, every hole in his skin he could find.

The imposter was screaming in pain, and the scratches that kept appearing all over his body were tearing some important bits of him off, like his fingers. Then he collapsed to the ground and thrashed one more time before a great howl issued from his throat.

Harry found himself springing back as something black and twisting rose into the air. It seemed to reach for him with ghostly fingers.

Draco snatched Harry around the waist and bore him backwards. Harry struggled to turn around so he could face the thing. He had a better chance of defeating it than Draco did, he was sure.

Then someone else’s voice sounded loudly, speaking words that Harry hadn’t heard before and didn’t think were in Latin. He turned and saw Professor Potter walking towards the black thing, her wand out and her eyes blazing.

The black thing hovered for a second. Then it turned as if trying to flee, but a wind came up out of nowhere and tattered it.

Harry stood there, staring at where it had been, and where the man had been. There was ash on the path. Around them, students were scattering, running back towards the castle. Draco still had his arms around Harry’s waist, and Theo had his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Harry? Are you all right?”

Harry blinked and looked up at Professor Potter. She seemed haggard, breathing hard, as if the spell had taken a lot out of her that hadn’t been apparent. And a bitter feeling welled up in him as he met her gaze.

I owe her my life now. I didn’t want to owe her anything.

“Why were you able to banish it?” he whispered.

“I encountered a few phantoms and bound spirits during the war.” Professor Potter tucked her hair behind her ear. “I knew a spell that would banish them. I haven’t used it in years, though. I’m sorry that it lasted long enough to threaten you.” She closed her eyes, then opened them again. “Are you all right?” she repeated.

“Yes,” Harry choked out. He was beginning to shake, only now realizing how close he had come to death. How close Draco and Theo had come with him.

And he had killed someone. On purpose, for the first time.

It would have been my second kill if the poison for Professor Potter’s husband had worked properly, the irrelevant thought dashed through his head.

He swallowed and looked away from the ash. Professor Potter was staring fixedly at it, but that didn’t mean Harry had to.

“You should go back to the castle, boys,” Potter said, sounding human for one of the first times since Harry had met her. “I think the Hogsmeade trip is canceled.”

“Uninterrupted, indeed,” Draco muttered.

For some reasons, that made Harry want to laugh, but he managed to bite his lips and hold back the impulse as he, Theo, and Draco gathered up his books from the path, tucked them away in the bag Harry also picked up, and turned for the castle. They walked slowly. The threat seemed to be gone, and Harry, at least, was exhausted.

Theo caught Harry’s eye as they moved through the gates. “You’re going to write to Everett about this?” he asked quietly.

“Of course. As soon as I can make it to the owlery.”

“I don’t think he’d grudge you a few hours of rest.”

Harry wasn’t sure about that, but he thought he would have to take them anyway. And also…

Also, be hopeful that the Dark Lord won’t be angry at me for destroying someone who looked like him.