Tidal wave

Harry thanked Merlin it was a Saturday and, as such, they had no classes. The way the Slytherins were closing in on him told him they would be spending the majority of the day in the room.

At least the armchair was a comfortable one.

"I… err… Merlin, I don't even know where to begin from!" he almost sobbed, running a hand through his hair and letting his head fall forward.

"No need to be this upset, Potter. I bet you are exaggerating things." Parkinson said. 

Harry could hear all the other boys murmur their agreement.

"Yeah, you don't get thrown into Azkaban for nothing. Nowadays it's only the use of unforgivables that grants you a lifelong sentence. Anything else, plus you being the Golden Boy, will result in a few months detention at best. And Dumbledore is on your side, so you won't even see the prison."

Zabini was right. With him being who he was and Dumbledore vouching for him he was sure he would be forgiven anything. 

Well, anything apart from…

"Good reasoning, wrong premises." He muttered.

He heard a collective intake of air as the group took in the meaning of his words.

“What are you implying, Potter?" Malfoy inquired. "Did you imperio someone to do your homework? Or did you-"

"I am not saying anything else" Harry interrupted the blond before his reactions could give him away.

"We are talking about very… sensitive information, if you want to near more, I require a secrecy vow.”

The Slytherins all stared at him as if he had grown a second head.

"You require a secrecy vow? Now?” came Nott's incredulous voice. 

Harry nodded.

"You are the one who came to us for help. We’re not going to take any vow! Right, boys?” 

Parkinson’s words sounded final, both Malfoy and Nott nodding their agreement. 

Harry sighed. There was no way he was going to tell them anything more. He had thrown them a succulent bait, but he would explain further only under the safety of a vow. 

He was a Gryffindor and his brains couldn’t  be compared to Hermione's, but that didn’t mean he was stupid. 

Nor that he trusted the snakes in the room with him. 

He was already halfway to rise from his armchair when Zabini's words stopped him. 

"I'll do it." 

Harry looked at the tanned boy in shock as around them resounded multiple protests. 

"You’re mental, Blaise!" 

"It's clearly a trap!"

But Zabini didn't pay those voices any attention, his eyes focused on Harry and Harry only. 

The boy squirmed a little in his chair at the sudden attention he was receiving.

"I am very interested in what the perfect Gryffindor has done." Zabini explained, waving his hand dismissively. "Besides, it's not like this secrecy vow will strip us of our magic. we won't be able to tell anybody what he tells us, but that's it." 

His piercing eyes found Harry's once again and the boy had to stifle a gasp at the intensity of the stare. "Besides, we can have Potter swear a vow back and our secrets would be safe, too.”

Harry knew Zabini was teasing him, but he nodded nonetheless. He would take a vow if necessary. It's not like any adults would listen to him complaining about the Slytherins, anyway. They never did.

"That's settled, then!" Zabini clapped his hands together, startling Harry and, funnily enough, Malfoy. 

The boys all huddled together, taking turns at swearing their vows. 

Harry had been adamant to make it so that they would be physically unable to repeat what they discussed in the room they were in rather than lose their magic or their lives. The Slytherins had all agreed.

“Okay Potter, who did you cast imperio on?" asked Parkinson, almost bouncing in her seat at the prospect of being able to get some dirt about the Boy Who Lived.

Granted, she wouldn't be able to tell anyone, but nowadays knowledge was power and power was what the Parkinsons were after.

Harry shook his head. "No one, Parkinson." he said, voice coming out somewhat muffled. He knew he would have to tell them sooner or later, but he couldn't seem to muster the courage. 

Some Gryffindor he was.

"Not imperius, then" Not reasoned. "Which leaves us with the cruciatus. Did you torture someone, Potter?" 

Harry ducked his head, but for the Slytherins it was confirmation enough.

"Merlin's Balls!” exclaimed Zabini, leaning back in his armchair. "The cruciatus is no joke! At least you didn't use it on a student…right?"

Harry shook his head. It had been Bellatrix. She had deserved it. He would undoubtedly do it again.

“Okay. I see the problem here. No wonder you wanted to know how many spells the prior incantatio shows." Not said rubbing his hands together. "Who did you use it on?”

Harry’s eyes darted to Malfoy for a fraction of a second before settling on Nott. 

“Bellatrix Lestrange.”

There was a sharp intake of air from the blond boy, but Nott just nodded his head. 

"Cruciatus on a Death Eater... it wouldn't go unpunished, but l am sure you can worm your way out of this one."

Maybe he could have… if he had stopped there.

"That's not all, though, is it?” Malkay asked, voice trembling.

The other slytherins eyed him oddly at the strange behavior of the always composed blond boy. 

"Mother sent me a letter. She said my aunt didn't survive the battle at the Ministry.”

Harry could feel four pairs of stares burning into his skull. It was time to tell the truth and trust the teenagers in the room. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but Parkinson beat him to it.

"What are you talking about, Draco? It’s obvious she was a casualty of the fight. Potter here couldn't kill a fly if he tried, it's impossible he casted the killing curse on your aunt.”

She turned to Harry for confirmation. "Right, Potter?" 

Harry swallowed and kept his gaze steadily on Malfoy, who was sitting right in front of him.

"I won't apologize, Malfoy. She deserved it."

The temperature in the room drastically dropped. Nobody dared to move, nobody dared to blink. The idea that one of their classmates, Saint Potter at that, would not only torture but also kill a top class Death Eater was simply ridiculous. 

Still, nobody seemed to be able to voice that thought, all instantly believing what the Golden Boy had all but confirmed.

It was Zabini who broke the silence after a few tense minutes. "What do you need exactly from us, Potter?"

Harry glanced at the tanned boy and took a deep breath. 

“I know you are well versed in the Dark Arts. I was hoping you would know a way to get rid of the feeling of euphoria you get after casting a dark curse." 

To his surprise Malfoy bursted out in laughter, but the sound was high pitched and close to being hysterical.

“Dark arts do not give you that feeling, Potter.” he said, almost sneering at the dark haired boy. "Only the unforgivables do. Whatever you are experiencing right now, go talk with Dumbledore. There's nothing we can do to help you.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Malfoy was starting to get on his nerves.

"I took care of it already, Malfoy. I was just wondering if there was a way to avoid dealing with those annoying side effects without having to spend every other night crucioing a dummy silly!”

"This is a dream.” he heard Parkinson mutter and he couldn't keep a small laugh from escaping his mouth.

"I wish it was, but alas." He felt more confident now that the cat was out of the sack. "How do you make food appear, anyway? I could really use a cup of pumpkin juice and a sandwich right now."

Malfoy blinked twice, probably confused by the sudden change of topic, but snapped his fingers nonetheless and soon food appeared once again on the table.

Harry's mouth watered. He hadn't realized he was starving! He grabbed a sandwich and took a bite, wondering if it was already lunchtime. 

He felt like they had been in the room for hours.

“Are you sure normal dark arts won't affect me this much?" he asked after taking a sip of his drink. 

He heard Malfoy mutter something about how preposterous it was to call the dark arts that weren’t unforgivables normal, but he wasn't interested in that kind of talk. 

Fortunately, Zabini was there once again to save the day. 

"It should have no after effects, no.” He replied shrugging. "Why, Potter, are you planning on learning them?" he asked casually, but his eyes were twinkling.

It was clear he was excited at the prospect of having the Saviour getting corrupted by the Dark. 

Harry pondered on it for a moment.

"It's not like I have a choice. I am going to have to face Voldemort and his Death Eaters one day. It's only fair that I fight fire with fire." 

The name Harry so casually said sent a shiver running along the back of the Slytherins.

"Speaking of which. You said you tortured and killed Bellatrix Lestrange. She was a very high ranked Death Eater, you know. The Dark Lord will torture you to insanity the next time he'll catch you.” Nott's voice was barely above a whisper, but everybody in the room heard him just fine.

Harry scratched the back of his neck. "Erm... I don't know about that. He kind of asked me to kill her. Something about killing her would be more merciful than let her live in pain and insanity." 

He extended his arm to take another sandwich. The one he had just eaten had been the best sandwich of his life and he craved another. 

"What?!" he asked when he saw the Slytherins all staring at him, faces pale as ash and -in Malfoy's case-  hands trembling.

“You..." Malfoy's voice caught in his throat. Parkinson elbowed Nott, prompting him to say what the blond boy clearly couldn't. 

"You spoke to the Dark lord? And you survived?"

Harry nodded. "He actually taught me how to cast the killing curse. I would never have managed it without his help."

"Somebody pinch me!" Malfoy moaned, letting his face fall into his hands. It was so out of character that for a moment Harry thought he was the one who had been dreaming. He was feeling a little numb, indeed, but it probably was because he hadn't been moving for a long time.

"I have something to ask you." he said after a while. He had been pondering over it for some time now and he guessed asking the slytherins while they still were in a state of shock would be more successful than if he were to ask them after classes. Granted, it wasn't something that could be talked about in public, but he was digressing. 

He waited for all the Slytherins to look at him before speaking again. "Would you be willing to teach me? The Dark Arts, I mean. I am afraid the library wouldn’t help much, at this point.”

As he stopped speaking, a deadly silence fell on the room. 

Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. 

Harry took another sip of his drink hoping the slytherins would snap out of it soon enough. He was getting tired of their unresponsiveness.

"What would we gain if we help you?" Parkinson asked.

Harry had been expecting it. "I can help you free your fathers from Azkaban” he stated, determination lacing his voice.

"You are the reason they got sent there in the first place!" Malfoy snarled, jumping out of his seat.

"I was. And because of that I believe I will be able to free them without much trouble."

"Of course. Saint Potter is above the law!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. 

Did Malfoy want his father out of prison or not? The boy had always bullied Harry and pestered him about his fame and the swarm of fans believing everything that came out of his mouth. 

Was it so difficult to believe he could use some of his influence now to free their family members from prison?

"There is still the problem of the Dark Lord. If we help Potter we are as good as dead." 

Nott was right, but Harry had thought about it, too.

"You can tell him the truth: that I asked you to teach me the Dark Arts and you accepted, hoping to turn me along the way." He suggested shrugging his shoulders. 

It wasn't a lie. 

Of course, the Slytherins didn't need to know that he would use the acquired knowledge to off their precious Dark lord.

He watched as the slytherins exchanged subtle glances and whispers. After a few minutes, they seemed to come to an agreement.

"How do you plan on freeing our parents, Potter?"