Whoooo Ireland
Harry Potter/damian/santa claus/rudolph the red nose reindeer had a very...
Harry opened his eyes to light streaming through his windows. He had just spent a night in Malfoy Manor. Harry from a year ago might actually have a stroke if he saw where he was now.
Who he was now.
He had thought about it last night, and he realized what he needed to do. He needed to get close to these people, not enough to be suspicious- but close.
He would have more freedom if they thought he was accepting his place in the family.
So, when Narcissa asked to show Harry her garden with Theo, he obliged. Apparently Theo had gotten in trouble a couple of years ago and owed his godmother Narcissa garden work each summer.
The pair apparently spent a lot of their time planting, trimming, watering, and tending to the plants in the garden; They forced Harry to do it with them.
Even though Harry was trying to display his facade, this bothered him. The only other times he had ever gardened were when Aunt Petunia made him, and when Mrs. Weasley did it with him.
It was their favorite thing to do together- gardening.
Percy was too pompous for the dirt, Fred and George were busy plotting, Ron thought gardening was boring, and Ginny didn’t want to dig around in dirt. That left Mrs. Weasley and Harry, and he loved it.
Mrs. Weasley and Harry would spend hours at the Burrow summer after first year gardening and using the plants they had grown in new recipes.
It was like he was betraying Mrs. Weasley by gardening with Narcissa Malfoy.
But what was Harry supposed to do about that?
Harry even taught Barty Crouch Jr how to play poker, which resulted in quite a few galleons filling Harry’s pockets.
Everyone seemed to be very confused by Harry’s change in character.
Good.
The one person who seemed to see right through Harry’s act was Regulus.
You see, a few weeks into the summer saw Harry getting closer with the other boys, Barty, Barty’s ‘friend’ Evan Rosier, and Narcissa. Harry would always hate Snape, and Harry never saw Lucius or his ‘parents.’
Harry didn't quite know what happened. Maybe Bellatrix attacking Harry made her cautious to be near him, or Voldemort was out killing muggles. Who knows? All Harry knew was that they hadn't been here in a month.
Regulus, though.
Regulus was always here and always watching. He inquired about Harry’s past, the Dursleys, his friends at school, his primary education, everything.
“Aunt Petunia was nice,” Harry would answer- because she really was quite nice. She was a perfectly normal mother and neighbor, member of a local book club and volunteer at their primary school. The people at Malfoy Manor hated it when Harry called the Dursleys his aunt and uncle. Snape looked disturbed about him staying with his Aunt Petunia.
She just wasn't a great aunt, but who was Harry to judge?
His uncle Lucius tried to kill Ginny Weasley last year. Aunt and uncles could be complicated.
“Privet Drive had a lot of children,” he would say, because it did have a lot of kids. In fact, the kids had political parties and everything. The Dudley party terrorized the party too small to fight back. Average politics, if you ask Harry.
“My primary school was very good,” Harry would say. Which was true. He couldn't turn in his homework because Dudley always stole it- but that didn't mean it wasn't a good school.
Harry had always been good at offering the truth to cover up a lie.
“How was your first and second year at Hogwarts, Harry? We only heard stories from Draco’s end,” Barty said when they were at dinner one night.
To be fair Harry had a long night of pretending to like these people. It was only Barty, Regulus, Harry and the other boys at the table. He was half certain that those two adults were their designated babysitters. Pansy and Astoria were each at their own manors and Theo’s dad was with Voldemort while Blaise’s mom was in Europe. Narcissa might have been at an appointment or something.
“Oh it was great. A three-headed dog tried to kill me first year, and then Voldemort tried to kill me, and then an acromantula and all of his children tried to eat me, and then your house elf, Mrs. Malfoy, tried to kidnap me, and then Voldemort’s teenage-self tried to kill me second year with a basilisk,” Harry answered. Maybe not the best thing he could have said.
“An Acromantula?” Barty choked out.
“Yes, the one that Voldemort discovered in Hagrid’s trunk and then used to get him expelled,” Harry replied. It was clear that he possessed information that the others at this table did not have. That made Harry happy.
“How did you find the beast?” Draco asked from next to him.
“He lives with all of his children in the forest,” Harry easily replied.
“The one we have detentions in?” Draco gasped. They did get quite a few detentions this year in that forest.
“You have detentions in the Forbidden Forest?” Regulus asked.
“Yes?” Theo answered. Harry was also confused. They went to Hogwarts as well, they must know.
“That’s illegal,” Barty murmured.
“Tell that to Filch. He has us out there twice a week. At night too, you can’t see anything,” Draco complained.
Harry had a feeling that if they weren't going to Durmstrang that policy would change fast with the way Regulus and Barty looked at each other.
“What do you mean your father’s teenage self tried to kill you with a basilisk, Damian?” Regulus asked.
Harry sent a glare at the man. He was the only one who dared call him that.
“I meant exactly what I said. Lucius Malfoy decided to put Voldemort’s diary in Ginny Weasley’s books for school. Now Ginny became possessed by Voldemort’s teenage self who was in the diary and freaked the fuck out, tried to get rid of the book and throw it in the girls bathroom where we did the polyjuice, but I found the diary and took it back to my room and talked to younger Voldemort and he showed me a memory of when he confronted Hagrid and Moaning Myrtle died. Then Ginny broke into my dorm and tried to get the diary back, and then we went down into the Chamber of Secrets- Lockhart, Ron, and I- and Lockhart got obliviated and I got separated from them so I went to go find Ginny and I found Voldemort as a teenager and Ginny dying and then he called the basilisk to kill me but I took the sword of gryffindor which I pulled out of the sorting hat that was brought to me by Fawkes and I blinded the Basilisk and managed to kill it later and then I took its tooth which stabbed me and I stabbed the diary and then the teenage Voldemort died and then Fawkes cried on me to heal me and then we left,” Harry shrugged, turning back to playing with his green beans.
No one said anything, and Harry looked up to see them all staring in shock.
“Harry, you were the one who obliviated our defense against the dark arts teacher?” Theo finally asked.
“I had to, he was going to obliviate me,” Harry defended.
“Polyjuice?” Barty questioned. Harry paled. He didn't mean to say that. If Snape found out…
“I can’t get in trouble if I don't go to Hogwarts anymore,” Harry shrugged.
“What did you use polyjuice for?” Draco asked.
“Well, you were with us,” Harry told Draco. The blonde still looked very confused.
Harry sighed. “Do you remember in the Slytherin common room when you were talking to Crabbe and Goyle about the heir of Slytherin last year and they ran out?” Harry asked.
“That was you?” Draco exploded. It was clear no one else knew what they were talking about.
“Wait holy shit, I’m the heir of Slytherin- everyone was right,” Harry said, dumbfounded.
“Wait, why did you need to sneak in as Crabbe and Goyle?” Draco asked.
“We thought you were attacking muggleborns,” Harry deadpanned.
“Wow thanks Harry,” Draco said, sounding mildly offended.
Regulus looked absolutely perplexed by Harry, which was good. The man seemed a little too intelligent for Harry’s taste.
“What about my house elf, Harry?” Draco asked. “The one you freed?”
“Sure, you remember Draco. The whomping willow car thing,” Harry said.
Realization dawned on Draco, Blaise, and Theo’s faces. The adults remained confused.
“That was Dobby?” Draco asked.
“Well he closed the barrier, and the bludger thing was him too,” Harry said.
“You almost died!” Blaise exclaimed.
“Yeah, that’s why I included him on my list,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.
It was funny talking about this when the other people didn't know what he was saying, but now Harry was bored trying to explain his life.
So, he stayed quiet while Draco explained the bludger incident and car incident.
“I can’t believe you two were so daft as to take a flying car,” Draco eventually said to Harry.
“Hey that car saved us from Aragog,” Harry defended.
“Aragog?” Draco questioned.
“The acromantula,” Harry said like it was obvious. These people were not fun to talk to.
At least he wasn't talking to Voldemort, though.
-
After two months had gone by and they were reaching the final few weeks of summer, Harry finally asked Narcissa if he could go to the Burrow. Harry had been owling his friends constantly, with about 5 letters dedicated to how annoyed he was about Durmstrang. He hadn’t given anything sensitive away in case his letters were intercepted or read, but Ron did beg him to come to the Burrow.
“I’ll talk to your father,” was all Narcissa responded. Narcissa was desperate to make Harry happy and comfortable at all times, which he really hoped worked in this scenario- and it did.
On August 15th, Harry set off to the Burrow. Severus had given him a portkey that would take him to Malfoy Manor in case anything went wrong, but Harry knew it wouldn't. The other boys tried to convince him not to go because they all had tickets to the Quidditch world cup. As much as Harry wanted to go to the Quidditch World Cup, he would take the Burrow over that any day.
-
Barty and Regulus were escorting him, which he thought was totally unnecessary. Voldemort had even sent back the glamour necklace for Harry to wear- which he would not be giving back.
He still couldn't believe he was being allowed to visit the Weasleys- for two weeks too. His plan fucking worked. Harry wasn't stupid, he knew he would have to go back to Damian’s family. Everything would change now that they knew who he was. But for now, he could go to the Weasleys- his safe haven from the Dursleys, and now Voldemort and his followers.
Everything would be fine, until it wasn’t.
See, Regulus and Barty apparated Harry to the Burrow. He wasn't surprised when they followed him inside, but one thing he did not expect was for Sirius Black to be sitting on the sofa.
Evidently, Sirius did not expect Harry to be arriving with Regulus Black, his little brother.
Evidently, Regulus did not expect Sirius Black to be waiting for them, his older brother.
Evidently, this was very bad.
Regulus and Sirius did not speak, they only stared at each other. Then things got a little violent.
Mr. Weasley had only just run in before he was holding Sirius back from attacking Regulus, and Barty had placed his hand on Regulus’ shoulder- though the man wasn't attacking his older brother yet.
“Harry!” Fred shouted from behind, and Harry turned from the tense scene to hug one of his honorary older brothers, or so they liked to call themselves.
Fred and George had made the past three years so fun, even with the occasional attacks by Voldemort or big spiders. They had even saved him from the Dursleys when he was 12.
“Thank you for bringing him,” Mr. Weasley tried to say sincerely. Sirius had stopped trying to reach Regulus, but he was glaring at the man.
Mr. Weasley was probably expecting a Malfoy- not, well, a Black and Barty Crouch Jr. They had not technically done anything illegal and Harry was pretty sure they were cleared of all charges- but that doesn't mean that they weren’t known Death Eaters. Then again, so were the Malfoys.
“You can go now,” Harry told Regulus and Barty.
Barty moved closer to him and whispered so only he could hear, “keep it on.”
The necklace…of course he was keeping it on? Did they think he was fucking stupid?
Regulus took one last glance at Sirius, patted Harry’s shoulder, and walked out.
Barty followed, and as soon as the door closed Sirius exploded.
“You didn’t tell me you were staying with my brother!” Sirius exclaimed.
“I wasn’t,” Harry lied. “Lucius and Narcissa are just out of the country right now and asked their friends to take me here.”
Not a lie. Lucius was out of the country and Narcissa went shopping in Milan and Paris occasionally with Contessa Zabini.
“Are you alright, Sirius?” Mr. Weasley asked.
“Yeah, I just haven’t seen my brother in 14 years. He’s a pureblood supremacist little shit that’s just like my parents,” Sirius sighed. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he turned to Harry.
“Oh it’s fine, I don’t like him either,” Harry laughed, moving to hug Sirius.
He hadn't seen his godfather since Christmas, nearly 8 months ago- though they have exchanged plenty of letters.
“Unfortunately I could only stop by. I’m leaving for quite a while to settle all my foreign affairs. Quite a bit of chaos ensued while I was locked up, you can imagine,” Sirius laughed.
“Harry!” Ron shouted, running down the stairs and barrelling into him. “I thought I heard your voice.”
Harry was so fucking happy. He was hugging his best friend and everyone he considered family was in the same house right now.
Speaking of which, Mrs. Weasley came through the kitchen door just then.
“Harry! You’re back,” she exclaimed, and Harry moved to hug her. Pretty soon, George and Ginny had come down too and Sirius had left, leaving Harry with the Weasleys and happier than ever.
-
“So tell me mate, what’s he like?” Ron whispered as they laid alone in his room later that night.
“I didn’t really see him,” Harry admitted. “His wife tried to kill me, though, and he stole my glamour necklace for a solid two months,” he sighed in annoyance.
“Your mum tried to kill you?” Ron asked, astounded.
Harry sent him a glare.
“Right, sorry. Bellatrix,” Ron corrected.
“So who do you live with?” Ron asked.
“A whole lot of fucking people. Regulus Black- I lied to Sirius, Barty Crouch Jr, the Malfoys, Theo and his dad-though his dad is never there, Blaise and his mum- also never there- and Damian’s parents,” Harry answered.
“Blimey mate. I don’t know how you did it,” Ron said.
“I don’t know how I am going to do it,” Harry whispered. “I mean what’s their plan, huh? Send me off to Durmstrang and bring me back each holiday against my will? Besides, they can’t expect me to continue that once I am 17. I mean seriously,” Harry ranted.
“Well it’s not like you can run away,” Ron said. “They’d sniff you out within an hour!”
“Not if I went completely muggle…if I stopped using magic altogether,” Harry said, turning to stare at the ceiling. Harry loved this house.
“Mate, you can’t be serious,” Ron said in disbelief.
“Ron, put yourself in my shoes. This might be the last time I even see you,” Harry whispered.
“Don’t say that, it will be okay. We’ll figure it out, just don't even think about it right now. That's what they want- they want for it to get to you,” Ron said.
When did Ron get so wise? Maybe he had always been wise.
So, Harry took Ron’s advice. He didnt think about Voldemort or his followers, much less his biological connection to them.
He thought about the recipes he could make from the lemons growing in the Burrow garden. Eventually, Mrs. Weasley and Harry settled on lemon tarts that were so good he didn't know why anyone ever used house elves.
He thought about the ridiculous prank ideas that Fred and George largely tested on him and Ron. One night the bluetify blueberry sucker- that was still largely being designed and not ready to be used whatsoever- turned Harry and Ron’s hair blue for an entire day , even with the glamour on. Harry still didn't know how they managed that.
When Hermione arrived, things were even better.
When it was Harry’s birthday, he ignored the presents flowing in from Riddle Manor and focused on baking the cake with Mrs. Weasley.
When Mr. Weasley led them all away, except Mrs. Weasley, with only instructions to pack and that they were going to a surprise- things were great.
Sure, Harry was strictly warned to not leave the Burrow, but who can resist a surprise?
When they met the Diggory’s and grabbed a boot that ended up being a portkey, Harry was a little bit cautious. When the portkey ended up taking them to the Quidditch World Cup- now that was bad.
“The Malfoys are here,” Harry whispered to Ron and Hermione once they were inside the tent.
“Oh blimey Harry, I’m sure we won’t see them. They will have a box seat for sure,” Ron said, trying to comfort him.
And he was right, Harry didn’t see anyone from Malfoy Manor the whole first night. The match was incredible too, the best flying Harry had ever seen.
He had hoped to get through the whole trip without seeing any of them. After all, he was decked out in an Irish jersey that Seamus gave him after they saw him and his family at their tent. The Malfoys were fans of Bulgaria, so hopefully they'd pay no attention to a boy in a green jersey- even if he did happen to be Harry Potter.
Everything was working out, even Ireland won the match-until Harry’s bad luck kicked in again.
Harry woke up to shouting and faint screaming. Mr. Weasley was the one shouting. “Get up! Ron — Harry — come on now, get up, this is urgent!”
Harry sat up quickly and the top of his head hit canvas. “What’s the matter?” he asked. Dimly, he could tell that something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. He could hear screams, and the sound of people running. He slipped down from the bunk and reached for his clothes, but Mr. Weasley, who had pulled on his jeans over his own pajamas, said, “No time, Harry — just grab a jacket and get outside — quickly!”
Harry did as he was told and hurried out of the tent, clad in pajama pants and an Irish jersey with Ron at his heels. By the light of the few fires that were still burning, he could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.
A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Harry squinted at them. . . . They didn’t seem to have faces. . . . Then he realized that their heads were hooded and their faces masked. High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small.
More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice Harry saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.
“We’re going to help the Ministry!” Mr. Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. “You lot — get into the woods, and stick together. I’ll come and fetch you when we’ve sorted this out!”
Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction toward the source of the trouble. The crowd was coming ever closer. “C’mon,” said Fred, grabbing Ginny’s hand and starting to pull her toward the woods. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and George followed. They all looked back as they reached the trees. The crowd of people was coming closer.
They could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the center, but they were having great difficulty.
Now, Harry wasn’t always the most observant person. He didn't know when they lost Fred and George, but pretty soon it was just him and Ron and Hermione, alone in the woods, just off the clearing where the tents were.
People were still screaming around them, but no one that Harry recognized.
That is, until a voice nearby shouted out “MORSMORDRE!”
Now Hermione and Ron hadn’t actually seen Barty Crouch Jr, so when they looked over all they saw was a man, illuminated by the green light of his curse. A curse that sent a colossal skull, composed of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue into the sky. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.
Barty ran the other direction before spotting Harry, thank Merlin, but Harry saw him.
“Harry, come on, move!” Hermione had seized the collar of his jersey and was tugging him backward.
“What’s the matter?” Harry asked, startled to see her face so white and terrified.
“It’s the Dark Mark, Harry!” Hermione moaned, pulling him as hard as she could. “You-Know-Who’s sign!”
“Voldemort’s — ?”
“Harry, come on!” Hermione urged.
That made sense, Barty conjured it after all. Except, Harry wasn't actually supposed to be here right now…and his biological accident of a father’s mark was coincidentally hanging over his head.
He was in such deep shit if they found out.
Harry turned — Ron was hurriedly scooping up his miniature Krum — the three of them started across the clearing — but before they had taken a few hurried steps, a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding them.
Harry whirled around, and in an instant, he registered one fact: Each of these wizards had his wand out, and every wand was pointing right at himself, Ron, and Hermione. Without pausing to think, he moved. He seized the other two and pulled them down onto the ground.
“STUPEFY !” roared twenty voices — there was a blinding series of flashes and Harry felt the hair on his head ripple as though a powerful wind had swept the clearing. Raising his head a fraction of an inch he saw jets of fiery red light flying over them from the wizards’ wands, crossing one another, bouncing off tree trunks, rebounding into the darkness —
“Stop!” yelled a voice he recognized. “STOP! That’s my son!”
Harry’s hair stopped blowing about. He raised his head a little higher. The wizard in front of him had lowered his wand. He rolled over and saw Mr. Weasley striding toward them, looking terrified.
“Ron — Harry” — his voice sounded shaky — “Hermione — are you all right?”
“Out of the way, Arthur,” said a cold, curt voice. It was Mr. Crouch. Barty Crouch's father. Mr. Weasley had told him about this man.. He and the other Ministry wizards were closing in on them, and Harry got to his feet to face them.
Mr. Crouch’s face was taut with rage. “Which of you did it?” he snapped, his sharp eyes darting between them. “Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?”
“We didn’t do that!” said Hermione, gesturing up at the skull.
“We didn’t do anything!” said Ron, who was rubbing his elbow and looking indignantly at his father. “What did you want to attack us for?”
“Do not lie, sir!” shouted Mr. Crouch. His wand was still pointing directly at Ron, and his eyes were popping — he looked slightly mad. “You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!”
“Barty,” whispered a witch in a long woolen dressing gown, “they’re kids, Barty, they’d never have been able to —”
“Where did the Mark come from, you three?” asked Mr. Weasley quickly.
“Over there,” said Hermione shakily, pointing at the place where they had heard the voice. “There was someone behind the trees . . . they shouted words — an incantation —”
“Oh, stood over there, did they?” said Mr. Crouch, turning his popping eyes on Hermione now, disbelief etched all over his face. “Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy —”
But none of the Ministry wizards apart from Mr. Crouch seemed to think it remotely likely that Harry, Ron, or Hermione had conjured the skull; on the contrary, at Hermione’s words, they had all raised their wands again and were pointing in the direction she had indicated, squinting through the dark trees.
“We’re too late,” said the witch in the woolen dressing gown, shaking her head. “They’ll have Disapparated.”
“I don’t think so,” said a wizard with a scrubby brown beard. It was Amos Diggory, Cedric’s father. “Our Stunners went right through those trees....There’s a good chance we got them...”
“Amos, be careful!” said a few of the wizards warningly as Mr. Diggory squared his shoulders, raised his wand, marched across the clearing, and disappeared into the darkness.
“Tell me, did you recognize the man?” Mr. Weasley asked.
“No,” Hermione and Ron answered.
Harry didn't say anything.
Looking back, he should have.
He should have told Mr. Weasley everything at that moment- but he couldn't.
Not when Barty had taught Harry how to use the secret tunnels in Malfoy Manor, or how to bewitch parchment to look full of writing when Snape would check if he was doing his summer assignments.
He didn't trust Barty, but he didn't know if he should rat on him to Mr. Crouch Sr either. Well Harry knew he should , but something was stopping him.
The members of the Ministry kept shouting amongst themselves, and Harry couldn’t bring himself to pay attention.
“Oh Harry there you are,” Harry heard a voice say from behind him. Harry looked behind him to see Lucius Malfoy.
Harry had never engaged in a respectable conversation with this man beyond the dinner table. He had tried to kill Ginny Weasley, and was a right arse to Dobby. He was also his uncle.
In summary, Harry hated the man.
The man who placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders and blocked him from going anywhere.
“Harry,” Draco acknowledged, coming to stand next to him. “Did you enjoy the match?”
“What do you think?” Harry asked, motioning to himself.
Harry was currently in a green Irish jersey, green and blue pajama pants, and had green powder from last night’s celebrations all over half of his face and hair. Draco was rooting for Bulgaria.
Harry found this very funny, if not for the increasingly tight hold that Lucius had and the fact that literally no one knew he was here, and now they did. How marvelous.
And now Theo and his father were on his left. This was getting better and better.
“Lucius,” Mr. Weasley acknowledged.
“Scary events tonight, Arthur. We better all get home safe,” Lucius said, looking up at the Dark Mark which still floated in the sky.
Did Harry already say how much he hated Lucius?
He fucking hated him.
“Yes, Harry, let’s get going,” Mr. Weasley said.
“I think he should go home,” Lucius said, pulling Harry back a bit.
“You said I could stay until Saturday,” Harry said up to Lucius. By you he meant Voldemort.
It was Thursday. The train for Durmstrang left on Monday. Harry was not about to say goodbye to his best friends for a whole year- or longer.
“There's been a change,” Lucius responded.
“No, you said I could stay,” Harry said.
Lucius very forcibly pulled Harry back a bit more, and Harry could only stare longingly at his friends as he was pulled away and towards the campsite again.
“Mr. Malfoy,” Harry began as they walked, or rather Harry was dragged. “I would hate for anyone to know that Barty Crouch Jr said the incantation Morsmordre and cast that skull into the sky,” Harry said.
Lucius abruptly stopped, as did Tiberius Nott, and they both stared at him.
Lucius narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn't,” Lucius said.
“Oh I would,” Harry said. “Try me.”
Lucius sighed and pinched his eyes shut with his hand.
“You’re just like your father, you know that right?” Nott sr asked.
Harry just glared at him.
Harry saw Blaise in the distance, standing with other people. Barty might have been with him, Harry thought, though it was hard to see everyone in the smoke.
Lucius seemed to reach a decision while he was having an inner crisis, and pulled Harry the opposite direction.
“Lucius?” Tiberius Nott asked.
“Tell our lord that the heir will be staying with the blood traitors until Saturday,” Lucius said in response.
Harry smiled, moving to walk ahead of Lucius and back in the direction of the Weasleys.
Harry had completed steps 1, 2, and 5.
3 and 4 didn't look too far away.
-
Marvolo had perfectly planned a small interruption to the World Cup with a group of Death Eaters. Only a small show, planned to console a few of his followers that wanted to engage in more attacks and make a political statement. Minister Fudge was already acquaintances with Marvolo, but having the head of the Ministry on your side was not the same as the entire Ministry.
The goal was to weed out who fully opposed him, The answer was a few of the Ministry ranks: Weasley, Crouch, Diggory, and others. Nothing that Marvolo couldnt handle.
What Marvolo couldn't handle was the unpredictable enigma that was his son. Lucius heard whispers after much of the attack was over that people had spotted Harry Potter.
Then, when Lucius finally found his son- terrified and surrounded by aurors…well that just wouldn't do. Marvolo had told Narcissa that Damian was to be instructed not to leave the Weasley property.
Damian was supposed to be brought straight back to Malfoy Manor, except apparently his son had decided to blackmail him. Damian had seen Barty cast the curse, heard the incantatem, and swore to tell everyone what he saw if wasn’t allowed to continue staying with the Weasleys.
Regulus thought it was hilarious, Barty couldn't believe he hadn't seen the boy, Severus wasn’t surprised, Lucius was enraged, Nott was annoyed. and Marvolo was just upset.
Marvolo wouldn't be so upset if his son was not wearing the face of Harry Potter. His ranks knew that Damian was home- but not all of them knew he was once Harry Potter. His son could have been easily attacked, and Marvolo would have no idea.
It was in these moments that Marvolo was glad he put the tracker on the glamour necklace. An added rune that would give him Damian’s location while he was under the guise of Harry Potter. That’s how Lucius found him, after all.
He had been in the Andes mountains for much of this time, negotiating with giants and also in different parts of Europe- establishing political connections.
When his son requested to see a friend, Marvolo could not say no. Not after what his son had been through and after the attack by Bella his first night. He wanted his son to trust him.
Only, Marvolo could evidently not trust his son to remain safe.
And worse, Marvolo had terrible news from Fudge. They were reinstating the Triwizard Tournament, which Marvolo had helped set in motion, but Fudge announced that Dumbledore wanted every student at each school to come. Originally, Damian and the other children were supposed to be far away from this event, and only 20 or so Durmstrang students would go with Karkaroff.
Now, Dumbledore wanted Karkaroff to bring every student.
Marvolo didn’t want Damian getting caught in his plans for the tournament, but it was too late to send Damian anywhere else- and even if he could, Ilvermony and other schools could not match the education at Durmstrang.
His son would be happy with the situation, no doubt- but there came the trouble of his identity. At Durmstrang, Damian was free to be Damian Riddle.
Hogwarts was another story.
“Maybe he can go as my son?” Regulus offered. “Damian Black. I stay out of the paper enough for no one to question a secret heir.”
“The whole world knows that Damian is a Malfoy now,” Severus said. “The children there will be waiting for Harry Potter to come back when they see Draco.”
“So we must send him as Harry Potter?” Marvolo asked.
Severus nodded. “Between Karkaroff, Barty, and myself- nothing will happen, Marvolo.”
-
Ron found it hilarious that Harry blackmailed the Dark Lord, while Hermione thought he was mad. It didn't matter, though. Harry was leaving for Durmstrang on Monday, his life was already over. What was Voldemort going to do? Ground him for two days?
Friday and Saturday morning went by far too fast, and pretty soon Harry saw two figures apparate onto the grass outside.
It was Evan Rosier and Regulus Black.
Harry sighed. He already said his goodbyes, if he did it again he might start hyperventilating.
When was he going to see these people again?
“Where’s Barty?” Harry asked as he left the Burrow with his trunk behind him.
“Occupied,” Regulus answered. “Is this all of your things?”
“Yes?” Harry asked.
“You left nothing at the manor, though,” Regulus said.
“You went into my room?” Harry asked, offended. When did he begin to think of it as his room?
“Kreacher,” Regulus corrected.
“Tell Kreacher to stay out of my stuff,” Harry told him. He hated Kreacher.
“So this is everything you own?” Rosier asked, sizing up his trunk.
“Yes?” Harry said. He was beginning to get annoyed.
“Narcissa will need to do more shopping than she expected,” Rosier commented to Regulus.
When they apparated back, Draco came into his room and started talking his fucking ear off about the match. “Troy and Moran weren’t even that good of chasers, they just got lucky. Mullet’s okay, but he’s slow.”
“Draco,” Harry started, very annoyed. “Were we even watching the same match?”
“What?” Draco asked.
“We fucking crushed you,” Harry said.
“No you did not,” Draco argued.
Harry was collapsed in his bed, under his covers and wanting very much to sleep despite it being before dinner.
Ron and Harry had invited Dean and Seamus over and they were up playing games until late last night, maybe even 4 in the morning.
Draco was sprawled across Harry’s sofa, still complaining.
-
Tom Riddle/voldy
“And Dimitrov? Nastiest beater I’ve ever seen, it was so cool. Nearly knocked Moran straight off her broom!” Draconis exclaimed.
“Draconis, who are you talking to?” Marvolo asked.
“What? Oh, Harry,” Draconis said. “Uncle Marvolo, you’re back.”
Marvolo’s nephew still called his cousin Harry, it was perplexing.
“Yes, I got back this afternoon. Although, I believe that Damian isn’t awake right now,” Marvolo murmured, looking over to where his son was buried under blankets and fast asleep.
“Oh,” Draconis said, disappointed. Marvolo wondered how long he had been talking to himself.
“I will see you at dinner, then, Uncle Marvolo,” Draconis said, getting up and leaving the room.
Marvolo walked over to his son’s bed and carefully took the necklace off. His son looked somewhat like his teenage self, but he could see much of the Black line in the young boy. He hadn’t had much time to observe his son.
There were some freckles dotting across his nose, something that Narcissa had as well.
He had Bella’s lips, and when his eyes were open they were green with some nearly crimson specs, if you looked close enough. His nose wasn’t like either of his parents, but it was similar to that of Orion Black.
His son’s hair was curly like Bellatrix, but more tame like a Riddle.
He was tall, too. Just as Marvolo was.
He was perfect, and he had been hiding behind Harry Potter this whole time.
How did that happen?
Marvolo had people working around the clock to find out, but there were no leads.
His son vanished and then reappeared, 13 years later as Harry Potter.
Marvolo wasn't sure if a Harry Potter had ever even existed, although he knew that the boy he hit that night with the killing curse was his son.
Marvolo pushed back his son’s curls to reveal the scar. That was one feature of both Harry Potter and Damian Riddle, and Marvolo hated that he was the man responsible. In his moment of rage after his child was taken, he almost killed his son. The scar was evidence.
And now, Marvolo’s plans to send Damian away to a safe school were interrupted.
Sometimes, Marvolo wondered if Dumbledore knew. If Dumbledore somehow orchestrated the abduction. If Dumbledore caught wind of Damian leaving his school and decided to ensure that wouldn't happen by having all of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons come.The Triwizard Tournament was supposed to be an embarrassment that got Dumbledore uprooted from his position as headmaster.
Now, his son would be watching in the stands, going to classes in the castle, and be in the same space as Dumbledore.
Damian shifted in his sleep, and it brought Marvolo out of his thoughts.
Damian would not be making it to dinner in 15 minutes.
Marvolo knew that Bella was desperate to see him after their last interaction, but that would have to wait. Making him comfortable with them would be a long process. Then again, it would likely be easier for Damian to forgive Bella than Marvolo.
“Sleep well, Damian,” Marvolo whispered, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.
Dinner was a fine affair until Narcissa asked how the World Cup was,
“Fine until father freaked out about Harry being there,” Draconis complained.
“His name is Damian,” Lucius corrected.
“Oh please, you don't even know what his name is. He thinks his name is Harry, you think it’s Damian. Might as well call him Richard and then we can all agree,” Draconis said, picking at his food and looking miserable.
“Don’t be rude, Draco,” Regulus said.
Draconis looked up to glare at the man. “You’re sending us off to Durmstrang in two days. What are you going to do that’s worse than that?” Draconis asked.
Marvolo’s nephew had a fair point. Although the young boy did not know that he would likely be back at Hogwarts within the month. They hadn’t told the children.
“Are you still upset about that?” Bella asked.
“You can’t be serious. Everything is perfect at Hogwarts, I don’t understand why we have to switch,” Draconis said.
“The forest detentions are perfect?” Regulus asked skeptically.
“Hey, that was told to you in confidence,” Theodore defended. “Besides, he assigns them,” Theodore said, motioning to Severus.
“Theodore, stop lying. I have never assigned you a detention in the Forbidden Forest,” Severus sighed.
The boys all stared at the man, even Blaise Zabini who was usually more level-headed.
“Are you joking? Where do you think we serve detention?” Draconis asked.
Severus frowned and set his glass down. “Usually Filch assigns them around the castle.”
“Severus, we’re in the forest twice a week because of you,” Draconis said. “Even Blaise!”
“No, that’s against school policy,” Severus said, his frown deepening.
“It’s all of us. Finnegan, Thomas, Harry, Granger, Weasley, Pansy, Astoria…the whole lot,” Theodore said. “At least twice a week at night.”
“Past curfew?” Lucius asked.
“Detention is always past curfew,” Draconis said like it was obvious.
This was not how Hogwarts worked when Marvolo attended.
“How long has this been going on?” Severus asked.
“Since first year and that dragon,” Draconis said, shaking his head.
“What dragon?” Marvolo asked.
“Norbert,” Blaise said, obviously very entertained.
“Draco and Harry got forest detentions for two months for that stunt,” Theodore laughed.
“It was Harry’s fault, if he hadn't been out past curfew I would have never seen the dragon. How was I supposed to know it climbed in his bag?” Draconis asked.
“Draco, you nearly set the Transfiguration room on fire with Harry,” Blaise accused.
“This is the first I am hearing of this,” Severus said. “Where did you get a dragon?”
“Hagrid,” the three boys replied.
Ah yes, Marvolo’s old schoolmate who his son has apparently struck up a friendship with. That would not do.
The boys told them many stories that night at dinner. How Draconis got a black-eye first year, which he blamed on flying, but it was actually because three Gryffindor boys tried to fight him during a Quidditch match while Damian caught the snitch within the first 5 minutes- a record at Hogwarts. Marvolo was entirely disturbed to hear about the diary and basilisk incident, and Lucius looked equally guilty. So Damian must believe that Marvolo tried to kill him second year as well. Stories about late night detentions in the forest added to the already grim picture Marvolo had of Hogwarts. It was not a safe place, and his son would be spending most of the year there.
-
Harry woke up to bright light outside and glanced at his watch. It was 8am, did he even go to dinner? No, he didn’t. Harry was pretty sure he slept 15 hours.
He went to the bathroom but stopped when he saw himself in the mirror. Well, not himself.
Damian.
Harry darted back into his room to look for his necklace on the floor or in his bed, but it wasn't there. Someone took it while he was asleep. So much for step 1.
Harry heard a pop and turned around.
Fucking Kreacher.
“Your aunt says she wants you for breakfast and then you are going shopping,” Kreacher announced. “And you are to wear this,” Kreacher added, popping some clothes into the room.
Harry threw a pillow at Kreacher’s head, but Kreacher popped away before it hit him, laughing gleefully. Harry hated Kreacher.
The clothes were simple linen trousers and a cashmere shirt. He looked like a pureblood prince snob in summer, exactly what Harry hated. Maybe he was. Was Voldemort a pureblood? Harry assumed so.
The clothes were impossibly soft though, so Harry wore them anyway.
Harry went downstairs to breakfast, and it was only Theo and Blaise at the table with Narcissa and Blaise’s mother. Harry learned early on that Blaise’s mother was terrifyingly powerful in politics, and liked to shop excessively with Narcissa.
“Harry,” Narcissa smiled, beckoning him to sit next to Theo. Theo and Blaise looked like they were dreading what was about to come, which meant Harry would too.
Eventually Draco came down, looking exhausted and hair disheveled. Narcissa fixed that with one wave of her hand. She had impressive magic when Harry paid attention.
“I really don’t need much for school. I already have all of my materials from Hogwarts,” Harry tried to say.
“Nonsense, Harry. We will buy whatever seems fit and everything on the list for Durmstrang,” Narcissa responded.
After they ate, Harry discovered that Narcissa and Harry had two very different interpretations of ‘shopping’.
Harry was expecting that they would go to Diagon Alley. Then Harry ended up in France, flooing into some really expensive stores in Paris and tailored for clothes as Damian Riddle. It was his first time leaving the UK- for fucking shoping. Then he ended up in Seoul and fitted for even more clothes as Damian. It was exhausting, and the other boys were fitted as well but not to the extent that Damian was. When he had arrived at the Malfoy Manor, there were clothes waiting for him- but these new clothes perfectly fit him and were from stores that Aunt Petunia might faint in. Harry swore they went to every fashion capital in the world- often for only one store. They left with no bags because apparently they were just sent back to the manor.
Then, Narcissa pulled a familiar necklace out of her pocket, and they did the same thing with Harry as- well, Harry. Then they finally ended up in Diagon Alley, a place Harry was actually familiar with. As they walked around they got quite a few stares, and Harry said hello to some of the shop owners he had become close with over last summer.
When they were about to go into an apothecary, Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Fitz, the cursebreaker. Everyone else went in while Harry stayed outside, and he hoped they wouldn't notice for a bit.
“Harry!” Fitz exclaimed. “It’s been forever, how have you been?” He asked.
“Well, you can imagine,” Harry said, nodding to the door that Narcissa had just walked through.
“So they know?” Fitz asked.
“Yeah, say Fitz?” Harry asked.
“What?” Fitz asked.
“If I send you payment through the mail later, could you make me another necklace before I leave Diagon?”
“Sure thing kid, I’ll be back!” He yelled, running off in the direction of his shop.
Harry smiled and went into the apothecary.
Theo saw him enter through the door and raised his eyebrow. Evidently, Theo had been watching through the window while everyone else was further into the shop.
Harry drew his finger along his neck. He hoped his message was clear. Tell and you’re dead.
Gathering school supplies for the next hour was the most excruciating experience ever. Fitz returned when they were in Flourish and Blotts, and Harry found himself pulled behind a bookshelf when the others weren’t looking.
“Here you are mate,” Fitz whispered, handing him a necklace nearly identical to his own.
“Thank you,” Harry said sincerely, pocketing the chain before turning around and back to where the others were.
The same routine happened later that night. Harry went to bed with the necklace and glamour on, and woke up without it- only now there was a second necklace hidden in his trunk.
Voldemort and Bellatrix were there for breakfast on Sunday morning. At noon Harry would have to be at the harbor in London and board a ship set for Durmstrang.
Harry didn’t say much to them, only small responses to their questions.
“How did you enjoy the World Cup?” Voldemort would ask.
“I’m happy Ireland won,” Harry would reply.
“Did you see anything interesting while shopping?” Bellatrix would ask.
“I only followed Mrs. Malfoy around,” Harry would answer.
Harry was very unhappy about his current situation. There was no avoiding Durmstrang. He would be there for the next 3 months, and then he could leave and guess where he would have to go for Yule? Malfoy Manor. After 6 more months at Durmstrang he could go to Malfoy Manor again for three months, and the cycle would continue.
It was absolutely fucking marvelous.
In summary, things were not looking up for Harry. Especially as Voldemort asked Harry to join him in his study before Harry left.
It was surreal, following Voldemort down the halls. Harry had barely interacted with the man, and he had never been alone with him.
When they passed a wall with a large mirror, Harry was struck by their resemblance. He knew by now that his biological father was Tom Marvolo Riddle, and that logically he would look like a Black and Riddle–but that didn't make it any less jarring.
They passed Harry’s doors that he began to associate with his bedroom and the adjacent doors that his ‘parents’ slept behind until they reached the study.
Following the man inside, Harry prepared for a conversation with a monster, his parents’ killer, a political machine, and his father.