Harry's Celebrity Crush is Grindelwald
Harry Potter
As the train pulled into King’s Cross Station and to a screeching halt on a familiar platform, Harry looked at his two best friends, and they looked back.
They all had a sense of understanding that they might not see each other ever again. This summer was a wild card, and while Harry insisted to them that he thought all the crazy purebloods wanted was for their son back, Harry had his doubts.
Harry’s biological father, the one who gave him presents for Christmas and gave him Sirius’ freedom, also conveniently gave him the scar on his forehead. And Harry was going to spend the entire summer with him.
People always assumed that Harry was forgiving, that he had a good heart. He couldn’t speak for the latter part, but those close to him knew he didn't forgive easily. It took one conversation with Draco Malfoy to make Harry hate him for three years. Harry wouldn't forgive what Voldemort did to his parents, to him .
If it was favorable to Harry to forgive someone, like Professor Dumbledore, then he would do it.
Harry would never forget, though.
If anyone thought he would, then they were in for a surprise.
If the purebloods who call him their family thought he would eventually forgive or forget, then they were in for more than a surprise.
“Well mate, not too late to jump out that window,” Ron suggested.
“Ron!” Hermione hissed. “This is a serious moment,” she said, shaking her head.
“I am serious,” Ron defended, voice cracking.
“Harry, this is insane. I’m not going to pretend it's not insane…but they are your family,” Hermione said.
Harry and Ron interrupted with voices of protest, but Hermione just held out her hand and continued. “What I mean is, it will be valuable to learn about yourself, about who you are. If anything, once you find out you're not in mortal danger with Voldemort attacking you left and right, then you can have freedom and choices. You could think about your future,” Hermione insisted.
“Yeah right, freedom and choices living with Voldemort and the Malfoys. What a joke,” Harry laughed.
“You can't know anything yet. Come on, let’s go,” Hermione said, getting up and unlocking the door once they heard other students leaving.
“It never hurts to put all your reading into Grindelwald to good use,” Ron added.
Harry smirked back. It was no secret that Harry often read about the dark wizard, and it often disturbed the other boys in his dorm.
Harry thought the man sounded better than Voldemort, which isn't saying a lot.
After grabbing their trunks, they stood on the platform looking for a familiar face. Mainly Molly Weasley or one of the Grangers. Instead, Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see a familiar blonde.
“Draco,” Harry grit out.
“You didn't sit with us on the train like we asked,” Draco said, frowning slightly.
“I don't like you?” Harry said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, which it was.
“Whatever, come on we're leaving,” Theo said from the other side of him, standing next to Blaise.
“Hey hold on, we’re saying goodbye here,” Ron said, shoving Draco’s arm away from Harry.
Harry looked behind Theo to see two familiar faces. Narcissa Malfoy and Blaise’s mother, Lucrezia Zabini. Harry winced at the memory from that trip to Hogsmeade. Back when everything was going wrong, but his secret was still safe. Well, that went to hell.
Harry wished he could see Mrs. Weasley before he left, but he couldn't spot her. So, he let Hermione hug him and whisper into his ear.
“I love you Harry, don't do anything I wouldn't do,” Hermione whispered.
“Never,” Harry whispered back, smiling.
They both knew Harry never did anything Hermione would do.
Ron entered the hug just after Hermione broke off, and Harry was pretty sure that Ron was glaring at Draco over his shoulder.
“Don’t die, we still haven't kissed girls,” Ron said, laughing into his ear.
Harry laughed back, and Hermione looked at them suspiciously.
“We’re being all too normal about the fact you're about to go to pureblood hell,” Ron said, loud enough for the other boys to hear.
“Didn’t you know? It’s the end of the world,” Harry said back to Ron and smiling at Hermione as she rolled her eyes.
“Come on, Harry,” Blaise urged, grabbing his arm.
Harry took one last look at his best friends who gave him what they must have thought were reassuring smiles but looked more like pained ones, and turned around to follow his ‘family.’
“Harry,” Lucrezia Zabini said, nodding at him in acknowledgement once they reached the two women. The crowd on the platform had parted around the women, as if they were above them all. “It is lovely to see you again,” she added.
uncomfortable under her stare.
He could say it was nice to see her too, but it really wasn't, and Aunt Petunia said to never lie, so instead Harry just nodded.
The two women embraced the other three boys, saying greetings and the like, but Harry wasn't really paying attention. He scanned the crowd for a short redheaded woman, wanting to see Ron’s mother who had been much like his own mother over the past few years.
“We’ll be going by floo,” Narcissa said after a moment, and Harry regretfully tore his eyes away from the crowd and followed them to a wall of fireplaces he had never used before. One apparently meant for floo. This would have made the events of the flying car entrance to Hogwarts last year very avoidable, Harry thought to himself. Then again, Harry might have been inside a spider if not for that car, and Harry smiled at the thought of their luck.
Theo looked at him weird. Harry did look a little odd, smiling to himself.
Walking behind these people, Harry felt a little out of place. He was in muggle jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, while they were all in elegant pureblood robes. The only one who looked close to him was Theo, and he even had a sweater on with some wool pants. Rita Skeeter would love this.
Harry shook his head. He shouldn't care what these people or anyone else thought.
As they reached the fireplace, Harry felt the weight of what was happening, and felt the massive urge to back out and run and hide somewhere. Like he did at the Leaky Cauldron,when his problems were only just beginning.
Harry watched as Narcissa brought out a small bag of presumably floo powder. Would they notice if he ran? He was saved from that thought, thought, by a shout of his name. He knew that voice. The voice that scolded Ron on their first day at Hogwarts, that fed him, that hugged him, that made sure he was always comfortable and happy. Mrs. Weasley.
Harry grinned as he watched Mrs. Weasley emerge from the crowd, and instantly fell into her embrace once she reached him. Perfect timing.
“Oh Harry! It’s been so long, we've missed you so much! You need to answer your letters more young man,” she briefly scolded, still holding on tight.
Harry looked over and saw Mrs. Malfoy and Zabini looking very annoyed, but they were almost perfectly masking it.
“Now you see here, I don’t care if you somehow got custody of Harry. If I hear a single hair on his head has been hurt, I will reign hell on all of you,” Mrs. Weasley suddenly threatened, turning to the two other women.
“I assure you, Harry will be safer than he has ever been with us,” Narcissa Malfoy answered.
Mrs. Weasley looked incredibly offended at that, but chose to say nothing in retaliation- probably for Harry's sake.
“I expect letters from him,” Mrs. Weasley added.
“He will be able to send letters,” Mrs. Malfoy confirmed.
Huh. Harry did not expect that. He gave Mrs. Weasley one last hug until he was confident that, even if he was going into the snake pit, he had people on the outside rooting for him.
She gave him one last smile, and Harry turned back to where his ‘family’ was standing.
Narcissa grabbed some floo and handed it to Theo, who stepped into the fireplace and announced “Malfoy Manor” as he vanished.
Blaise went next, and then Draco, and then they looked at him expectantly to go. That made sense, they probably shouldn't trust Harry to go last. He sighed and grabbed some floo powder, mimicking the boys before him and landing roughly in another place.
It was an elaborate parlor, fitted with dark blue accents and cream couches. The sunlight filtering into the room made it seem almost welcoming, and that was not what Harry was expecting in Malfoy Manor. It was a room that even Aunt Petunia would have to admire.
The other boys looked at him and didn't seem to know what to say, and there was no one else in the parlor until Mrs. Malfoy and Zabini came in behind him.
“Will you show Harry his room and the rest of the manor? Dinner will be in a couple hours,” Narcissa asked with a smile, directed towards the boys.
The other boys nodded, and Draco, Blaise, and Theo led the way down the hall.
“My father and I stay here, even though we have other properties in England,” Theo explained.
“Because your father is in servitude to Voldemort?” Harry asked.
Theo flinched at the name, but smiled nonetheless. “Something like that,” he answered.
“I am also staying here with my mother but she will spend much of her time in Central and Eastern Europe. She heads the Magical government there,” Blaise explained.
Harry walked more than he ever had in his entire life before they stopped at a door. And no, that's not an exaggeration. Harry is a quidditch player who is used to both Flint and Wood’s grueling practices, but even this amount of walking was noticeable. The place was massive .
Blaise pushed open the door to reveal a bedroom larger than the Dursleys’ entire first floor. The bed was massive and fitted with green and blue bedding. The dark oak floor was covered in a large, soft rug in the middle that housed a sitting area with dark gray couches and a fireplace. There was a door to the left, presumably to the bathroom, and bookcases lining the walls with a desk in the corner. The most disturbing part, though, was evidence that someone had lived here before.
Photos sat on a dresser with images of a young child, who looked like he could have grown into the boy hiding behind Harry’s necklace. In some photos he was surrounded by people, while some only showed the child being held by a woman or man. Bellatrix Lestrange and Voldemort.
Harry knew this was real, that Damian had existed, but seeing those photos caused a chill to run down his spine.
The first thing Harry did was walk over and flip all of the frames to be face down. The other boys looked offended and even confused, but Harry paid them no mind.
“This is my room?” Harry asked.
Draco nodded.
“Where do you sleep?” Harry asked, directed towards all of them.
“In our wings with our families. This wing is only for you and your… parents. Their room is next door,” Blaise said.
“They’re not home,” Draco said, reading Harry's thoughts.. Home. Home . This was insane.
“We could have explained this to you on the train,” Theo drawled.
“Where is he? Out killing muggles?” Harry asked with a hint of humor in his voice.
“He wanted to be here, but he is breaking your mother out of prison currently,” Theo said nonchalantly. Harry’s head whipped up at that.
“Excuse me?” Harry asked, his voice cracking in disbelief.
Harry’s mind whipped through possibilities, and he wondered if he could owl someone to warn Azkaban. He did not want to see his crazy mother, thank you very much.
“She should be out by now, actually. They will be at dinner tonight,” Draco offered like it was a good thing.
“Oh fucking excellent,” Harry sarcastically retorted.
“Do you need anything else?” Blaise asked.
“No,” Harry quickly dismissed.
“Alright, we’ll get you for dinner later,” Theo said, and the boys walked out.
Harry didn't want to lay in the bed, or really even touch the bed, because if he did then it was like the room was his. Instead, he plopped down on one of the couches and stared at the ceiling.
That is, until he heard a pop.
“Kreacher fooled you, yes Kreacher did,” the familiar house elf mocked, pointing at Harry and grinning like he won some big game after all of their fights at Grimmauld Place.
“Fucking Kreacher?” Harry asked in disbelief. “You little prick,” Harry shouted.
Kreacher only laughed in glee, popping away before Harry could grab him.
“I’m afraid he was only following my orders,” a voice said from the doorway.
Harry’s breath caught. Was this Voldemort? But no, he looked nothing like the Tom Riddle from the diary, and instead looked rather like Sirius. Was this Regulus Black?
“You’re the Black lord,” Harry said with a touch of disgust, watching the man carefully.
The man’s eyebrows rose at Harry’s tone. “Yes, I am,” Regulus confirmed.
What proceeded was one of the most fast-paced conversations Harry has had in his entire life.
“You made Kreacher spy on Sirius and I,” Harry said accusingly.
“Yes,” Regulus responded.
“Why?” Harry asked.
“To protect you,” the man responded.
“From what?” Harry asked.
“Many things,” the man said.
“What specifically?” Harry asked.
“My brother,” Regulus replied.
“Why?” Harry asked.
“I don’t trust him,” Regulus said.
“He doesn't trust you,” Harry shot back.
“And do you trust him?” Regulus asked.
“Of course.,” Harry replied.
“Why?” The man asked.
“He saved my life,” Harry said.
“Who tried to take your life?” Regulus asked, almost concerned.
“He stopped a man who could have taken my life,” Harry corrected.
“Who?” Regulus asked again.
“Peter Pettigrew, on behalf of Voldemort,” Harry easily answered.
“Your father would never allow that to happen,” Regulus argued.
“This was before you knew my identity,” Harry retorted.
“Now that we do, trust we will not let anything happen to you,” Regulus promised.
“Why would I trust you when I don’t know you?” Harry asked, genuinely curious.
“Because I know you,” Regulus responded.
“I don't think you do,” Harry said, smiling now.
“If we do not, then we will,” Regulus answered.
“Who is we ?” Harry asked, very bored.
“Your parents and the others living in this house,” Regulus replied.
“What if I don't want Voldemort to know me?” Harry asked.
“I don't think you've ever met the man,” Regulus said.
Harry pushed up the fringe of hair on his head, causing Regulus to slightly pale at the scar on his forehead.
“On the contrary, I think I have,” Harry said coldly, all sense of humor gone from his voice.
“That was a mistake,” Regulus said, looking a little desperate. “A fire gives birth to a new forest,” he added. Oh so he was pulling out the metaphors now, Harry was great at crafting figurative shit.
“And yet the animals inside still died,” Harry retorted. He knew he won the argument- if there was one.
“I just wanted to introduce myself before dinner,” the man sighed.
Merlin’s fucking beard how many people lived in this house? Was the dinner table 50 chairs long?
“I’m Harry. Pleasure to meet you” Harry said in such an insincere way that he knew Sirius would be proud.
The man just looked even more depressed and walked out, leaving Harry to lay alone and stare at the ceiling.
It had carvings like dragons and fantastic beasts he had never seen before- not even in one of Hermione’s textbooks. He recognized one of the dragons, a Hungarian horntail. Ron’s brother Charlie worked with them in Egypt.
It was a very strange thought, but it brought him some comfort. He might never see the Burrow again, trapped in a Malfoy dungeon for eternity, but there was part of the Weasley clan in this house. Right above his head. That dragon breathed fire and wreaked havoc, but Ron knew everything about the beast. Ron would think it was so cool, the detailed carving of the dragon above his head. Then again, it was made for a boy who would have grown up in the wizarding world. A boy who would know all about dragons, like Ron. A boy who might even have met one if he had lived.
But that wasn't Harry. It was Damian, and he wasn't here right now.
The boy who was here was bored though. Very bored. Exploring a castle filled with enemies, well one-sided enemies, and possibly dark artifacts was not a great idea, but Harry got up and left his room anyway.
Harry passed the double doors that almost definitely belong to Voldemort and well…Voldemort’s wife.
Damian’s parents, let's go with that.
Harry felt a little bit safer knowing Damians parents weren't here right now, but he still wasn't brave enough to enter their room. Heart of a lion, really. Gryffindor through and through.
Harry kept walking through the halls until he reached another door that was cracked open slightly, so he took a chance and opened it.
It was a study, and it looked like Voldemort’s. On one side of the room was a kind of library, with rails and stairs that went up so high he couldn't see the ceiling. It might have been enchanted, but it hurt Harry’s head so he left. Looking back, he probably should have looked for secret shit about the Death Eaters. Harry could be a spy and do spy things like in Dudley’s movies.
He kept going though, not wanting to run into Voldemort somehow. He passed a little circular area with a small alcove and piano, and massive windows that showed off the courtyards of the house. There were sprawling gardens with all sorts of colors that Harry could see in the distance. Harry preferred Mrs. Weasley’s small planter boxes with sweet tomatoes and ruby strawberries.
Harry knew a little piano from when he was little and his teacher taught him during recess, but he didn't dare play. He passed miscellaneous rooms, some filled to the brim with trinkets and others empty with only furniture covered in white sheets. Nothing else interesting caught his eye, so he eventually turned around.
He would come to regret that, though.
When he was almost back to Damian’s room, he heard a humming.
He should have bought his cloak.
The humming soon revealed itself as a woman with black curly hair. No doubt Bellatrix Lestrange. Recent escapee from Azkaban, Damian’s mother, and a woman Harry really, really did not want to see.
Harry couldn't even each for his wand before she sent a curse his way and he ducked.
“Intruder! It’s Harry Potter! MARVOLO!” She called, still throwing curses.
One curse he recognized: Crucio. He escaped that one by a centimeter. By now, Harry was desperate.
You need to understand how desperate he was. He was 13 years old, nearly 14, and not cut out for a duel with Bellatrix Lestrange.
You need to understand this so you can understand why Harry did what he did next. He had no options, and that is why he chose to do what he did. He would come to regret it, but it saved him in the moment, and so you should forgive him.
What he did was tear the necklace off of his neck. Harry wasn’t alive anymore. Damian Riddle was, and he was scared as fuck.
The curses immediately stopped. Harry couldn't tell whether Damina’s mom was going to cry or scream. Cry out of happiness or disbelief, and scream out of anguish or anger.
None of those things happened. She just stared. Her wand did not lower, and she cast a silent finite incantatem that Harry felt ripple around him. Nothing about his appearance changed, of course.
Her wand immediately dropped, and a tear slipped from her eye.
Narcissa Malfoy ran around the corner then, and joined her sister in staring. He thought she might cry too, and Harry hated it when people were emotional. So, he went to grab the necklace, but it flew out of his grasp and behind him. Harry turned around to glare at the person who took it, but came face to face with the older boy from the diary. An older Damian Riddle.
Except, this man was a monster. Harry knew that. A monster who was staring at Damian with indecipherable emotions racing across his face.
The glare remained on Harry- or rather Damian’s face as his eyes darted down to the necklace. Voldemort tracked the movement and slipped the necklace in the pocket of his robes, away from Harry’s reach.
That fucker.
“My son,” Bellatrix Lestrange croaked from behind him. Harry didn't take his eyes off of Voldemort to turn around and look at her. This dude might think he was a father, but Harry never turned his back on an enemy. He had learned that lesson when he was 4 and Dudley shot a pellet gun in his left shoulder blade. Harry was pretty sure the bullet was still in there.
“My son,” Bellatrix murmured again. “How is this possible?”
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but he was pretty sure it happened anyway. Now he knew where Sirius got his hysterics from: The Black family.
Wait no, he shouldn’t compare Sirius to them. Sirius was nothing like them.
It was clear that Bellatrix Lestrange did not know about Harry;s existence at all. Then again, Azkaban probably didn't have expedited postage.
He was pretty sure that Bellatrix was full on sobbing now, so he turned his head. The crazy lady was approaching him, hand covering her mouth in disbelief or sadness or whatever emotions were causing her to cry hysterically.
Harry took a step back, only this just brought him closer to Voldemort. He was locked in. Narcissa and Bellatrix Lestrange on one side, Voldemort on the other.
He really should have brought the fucking cloak.
The lady outstretched her arms, moving to embrace him, and Harry very much did not want to hug her.
“Uh, no thank you,” he deadpanned, holding his arms out like he was about to push her back.
This made her look really really sad, but Harry couldn't care less. Sirius told him about his crazy cousin Bellatrix. How she tortured Neville’s parents and killed hundreds during the war. Her hands might not be stained red right now, but her ledger sure was.
“Harry, let me bring you to dinner,” Narcissa said, beckoning him to walk by Bellatrix.
Harry didn't think he'd ever say it, but thank Merlin for Narcissa Malfoy. Voldemort hasnt said a word, he was just watching Harry follow Narcissa, which was creepy as fuck.
Let’s rewind a bit. The only people who had seen Harry, like really seen Harry, were the boys in his dorm when his necklace had fallen off and Ron and Hermione on the train, if you don't count the cursebreaker and Gringotts goblins.
Harry never took it off, so he briefly forgot that Voldemort still had it.
His entrance into the dining room made him remember though. You could have heard a pin drop. Every person at the table- and there were a lot of people- were staring at Harry. Well, Damian.,
The other boys looked a little less shocked, but even they had only seen Damian’s face for a few moments. Apparently Damian was a hot commodity around here. Shocker.
Harry ignored this and went to sit next to Theo. He ignored the fact that the only other two empty seats were to his right, with a third next to Lucius Malfoy- which Narcissa Malfoy promptly took.
Harry did not think he was going to like it here. Theo looked at him confused, probably as to why he was…well….Damian.
“Bellatrix attacked me,” Harry whispered into his ear. Three words were all it took for all of the color to drain from Theo’s face and the rest of the table to look on in a mixture of fear and curiosity. Three. That might be a new record.
No one spoke or ate, other than a few conversations between adults further down the table that Harry ignored. The stares didn't stop, and Harry dared to stare back at a few people like Contessa Zabini, who only smiled back.
Over 10 minutes had passed when Damian’s parents walked in. They looked hesitant as to who would sit next to him. Harry assumed the spot at the head of the table was for Voldemort, but Bellatrix Lestrange had just attacked him.
Harry didn't know how Voldemort explained everything to Bellatrix in 10 minutes, but he'd achieved it somehow and she wasn’t sobbing anymore. She was just watching him, which was arguably creepier.
Harry didn't particularly like the final verdict when Voldemort sat down next to him. Well, to be fair, Harry didn't like either of his options but he probably would have preferred Lestrange. She had only attacked him once, albeit in the last 15 minutes, whereas Voldemort had an impressive track record.
The second they sat down, food started piling onto the table. Harry wasn't particularly hungry, and thought he might puke, but ate anyway and figured he should act normal. He wondered what Hermione would think at the probably massive number of house elves working here, preparing all of this food. Voldemort would probably be scared of her.
Some people were trying to make conversation about the year at Hogwarts with the other boys. Harry said nothing. They asked about arithmancy class. Harry said nothing. They asked about quidditch. Harry said nothing. They even asked about the dementors. Harry said nothing.
“Do you like Slytherin house, Da-Harry?” Regulus Black asked from where he was across the table and a few seats down.
Harry narrowed his eyes at the man. He didn't like him.
“Sure,” Harry easily replied.
It was clear that those at the table didn't know if he was being sarcastic or sincere, and he thought that was funny. Everyone except Snape, who Harry didn't notice until he let out a small chuckle in response to Harry. Snape, professor Snape, killer of all things happy..chuckled. Harry thought he might be dreaming. A long dream that began the night of his 11th birthday and will never end until he dies.
“He likes it,” Draco confirmed, probably trying to impress someone like usual. Draco Malfoy, the perfect pureblood heir, made Harry Potter love Slytherin. An impossible feat.
“I’m sure,” Voldemort murmured from next to him in a way that told Harry he very much did not believe him.
“Well, if all goes to plan you likely won’t be returning to Slytherin for 4th year,” Barty Crouch Jr said, a man who Harry only recognized from Draco’s photos on his table.
Harry looked at Theo. Theo looked at Harry. They both did not have a single clue as to what he was talking about. The adults did, though. Harry noticed that the only people showing any surprise were himself, Draco, Blaise, and Theo.
Contessa Zabini cleared her throat. “We have decided that a transfer to Durmstrang may be more suitable for you four boys, and the Greengrass and Parkinson children,” the lady said.
Harry was vaguely aware of the protest by the other boys. Harry didn't react though. He just sat there, staring at a little blemish in the fabric of the table cloth.
It was a source of comfort. This perfect manor that was kept impeccable, had a flaw so blatantly clear.
He couldn't really process what she said, so he stared at the table cloth.
He couldn't really imagine leaving his friends and home , so he stared at the table cloth.
He couldn't really cry in front of these people, so he stared at the table cloth.
Harry felt numb. His ears were ringing. Never before in his entire life had he been stuck under a higher authority. Dumbledore and his professors sure, the Dursleys sure, but he was always free. Now, he wasn't free, because Harry didn't exist. The moment he turned 13 he lost any free will.
He pushed down these thoughts though, he placed them in a cave under a waterfall, and let a mountain collapse on top. They were unreachable.
So he stared at the table cloth.
-
Marvolo Riddle
His child was occluding. Marvolo didn't know how, but he knew that Regulus and Severus had also noticed. The only person besides Severus that could have taught Damian was Albus Dumbledore, but he was more skilled at legilimency.
So, how was his child occluding? Marvolo couldn't touch the child's mind, it was impenetrable. Normally no one could resist his legilimency. Was it self-taught? Was he somehow doing it without realizing it?
The other children were protesting the transfer of schools, as Marvolo expected. He expected Damian to put up a fight as well, and he may very well be, but he wasn't letting it show.
The moment that Marvolo walked in on Bella attacking Damian, he knew. It was a mistake, not telling Bella before she entered the manor, and she was distraught about it. Bella had discovered their son was alive and she had accidentally attacked him, all in the past half hour. Now, their only priority was to protect him. Damian would have to be kept safe, and the guise of Harry Potter could no longer exist if he wanted to keep Albus Dumbeldore away from his son.
As long as Dumbledore ran Hogwarts, Damian would not be permitted to attend school there. It was safer for the other children as well, to be away from that old fool. They had been under his thumb for far too long. Now that Marvolo was back, it would all change.
Except, the expression on Damian’s face did not change. He was staring straight ahead at something on the table. Marvolo tracked the movement. A small cut in the fabric of the cloth. Regulus tracked the movement as well, and wandlessly mended it.
It was as if someone pinched him, and Damian snapped out of whatever trance he was in. Marvolo took this opportunity to grab at some of his son’s thoughts. They were nothing of the Durmstrang announcement. Instead, they were of tomatoes in a garden. A redheaded woman was plucking some off the stem, and smiling at Damian. It was a memory.
Marvolo shot a glance at Severus, who likely also saw the memory, and Severus allowed words to pass through his mind in a way that only a skilled legilimens could.
The Weasley Matriarch.
Ah, Marvolo had known that his son had a friendship with a Weasley child. A distasteful family, loyal to Dumbledore, but pureblood nonetheless. Marvolo wondered when his child had been in a garden with the Weasley matriarch.
There was so much he didn't know.
“...and we would have to switch all of our classes and professors, all of the relationships we have built. I could be prefect in a couple of years!” Draco shouted. Marvolo loved his godson, but he had a temper that was fitting to his dragon name.
“Nothing to say, Harry?” Regulus asked. He was goading the boy. At some point Harry had grown a hate for Regulus, and Marvolo was curious as to how that happened.
“Nothing that will change your mind,” Damian replied coolly.
“Ah, so you’ve resigned yourself to your fate,” Regulus said.
“No he hasn't,” Draco protested.
“Actually, I find myself inspired by a man who attended Durmstrang,” Harry said.
Marvolo was curious now. Could he mean a quidditch player?
The other boys had a knowing look on their faces, and almost seemed exasperated at this son.
“Who might that be?” Regulus asked,
“Don’t say it,” Theodore muttered just loud enough for Harry to hear, but Marvolo picked it up too.
“Gellert Grindelwald,” Damian replied.
Narcissa choked on her wine, and Regulus smiled wider than Marvolo had seen in a while.
Lucius looked as pale as a ghost, as did many of the other adults at the table. Marvolo, on the other hand, had no choice but to smile slightly at the audacity of his son.
Bella looked like she didn't know what to think of their newfound son, Severus looked like he was expecting the answer, and the other boys looked exasperated with his son.
Marvolo found his love for Damian growing, if that was possible.
“Do you think Durmstrang will be a suitable place for you to follow in Grindelwald’s footsteps?” Barty asked, clearly wanting to extend the joke.
His son shrugged. “I’m not sure yet.”
Narcissa looked like she might faint.
Marvolo didn't remember someone changing the topic, but they had moved past Durmstrang, although Marvolo could tell Damian wasn't happy about the change in the least.
No one had really addressed the fact that Damian had come home after over a decade. It was unspoken and uncomfortable. Marvolo wanted nothing more than to talk to his child, to embrace him and give him gifts and heirships.
But that wasn't what Damian wanted. It was clear that his son rejected his family, rejected the fact of who he was. Marvolo knew Damian was afraid of him, and he regretted losing more of his trust after he took the cursed necklace, but Harry Potter could not exist anymore.
That was something that Marvolo would not move on.
-
Harry/Damian/BossAssBitch
Harry had 5 steps to success:
- Get the necklace back.
- Get Hedwig to send letters to help.
- Not go to Durmstrang.
- Run for it.
- Never let them know your next move.
Not necessarily in that order.
Step 5 came first.