9
The next morning Harry found Ron and Hermione waiting for him on the couches of their common room. He glanced longingly at the door that would let him out into the castle and towards the Great Hall to have breakfast, but decided to sit down and face his friends instead. He had avoided them for long enough.
"Hey!" he greeted, smiling at them. He sat on the ground, his back to the fireplace so that he could keep an eye on those who entered the common room. He might have trusted the Slytherins, but he wouldn't take his chances with the Gryffindors.
"I think we need to talk, Harry.” Hermione said. She had her lips pursed and a calculating look in her eyes. "Things just don't make any sense!”
"Yeah, mate. We tried to give you some space and be understanding, but… siding with the snakes?"
"They're my friends!" Harry tried to reason, but his voice came out weak and trembling.
Ron, Hermione.
They had been with him from the very beginning, they had helped him countless times and sided with him through thick and thin.
If Harry could trust someone with his life, it woud be his two best friends sitting in front of him. So why couldn't he just explain them what had happened at the Ministry?
Why couldn't he bring himself to confess his deepest fears, his longing for the forbidden arts, his quest to train and kill Voldemort?
He was afraid that his two friends would reject him and leave him alone, but wasn't Harry’s behavior already making them dift away?
He picked at a small knot of yarn on his robes. If he told them the truth and his friends chose to cut the ties with him, what would he do? Friendship with the Slytherins was only a temporary thing, of that he was sure. There was no way he could continue to see them after Hogwarts... not when he would be actively fighting against their Lord, not when he would use the skill he acquired during their training against their own families.
But Ron and Hermione... They had waited for him, trusted him to explain things to them one day. Ron and Hermione, he could trust.
Maybe they wouldn't understand Harry's motives, but they wouldn't blame him either. Maybe they could help him once again, support him, cheer for him.
And if they did give up on him, it would be because they chose to, not because Harry had taken the decision in their stead.
Decision made, Harry finally met his friends' eyes.
"There's so much I haven't told you." he confessed, biting his lower lip. "I don't want to lose you, but you might hate me if I tell you the whole story."
"We don't care, Harry."
Hermione moved to the ground, sitting next to him. She put a hand around his shoulder and squeezed him in a half-hug. Oh, how he had missed her!
"Yeah, mate you’ve done many stupid and reckless things in these five years. I'm sure we can handle the truth."
Harry smiled warmly at them both.
"Tonight. I'll explain everything after dinner, in the Room of Requirements."
His friends nodded, their faces shining with happiness. For the first time in weeks they made their way to breakfast together.
***
With the end of the war, the exams out of the way and only a few days left before the holidays began, nobody was putting efforts into classes anymore.
The students were laid back, half listening to the teachers and half planning dates or gatherings for the summer. Teachers, too, were mainly repeating nations they had already explained during the school year and didn't bother assigning homework anymore, since nobody ever turned them in.
Hermione had been distressed at first, but had then soon started on her summer homework and began to segregate herself for hours in the library, so in the end everybody was happily waiting for these last days to pass.
Everyone but Harry, who dreaded the moment he would have to go back to the Dursleys more than anything else.
Harry sighed, picking at his dinner while he tried to follow the conversation going on around him. He knew he should eat as much as possible now, since there would be no saying when he would be allowed proper food at the Dursleys, but he was so nervous about the conversation he was going to have with Ron and Hermione in a few hours that he couldn't stomach anything else other than water.
Hermione, sweet, intelligent Hermione seemed to sense his state of distress.
"No need to worry yourself over us, Harry, we already told you we are with you."
She grasped Harry’s hand under the table and squished it hard, making him wince. From the strength of her grip it was clear Hermione was nervous, too, but she was trying to comfort him nonetheless. A true friend.
Through all this, Ron seemed to be the only one without a worry in the world, digging in his mashed potatoes as if they were the most delicious thing in the world. Harry smiled, relaxing a little at the display of normalcy.
While with opposite personalities, Ron and Hermione were the best he could hope for when talking about friends.
He liked the Slytherins, too, but he had to admit he was always on edge around them. Old habits die hand and all that.
After dinner they moved to the Room of Requirements walking close together in absolute silence. If Harry had a knife, he was sure he would be ale to cut the tension in the air.
The doors of the room opened on a small, cozy place. There were poufs in warm soft colours all around a small table and a pleasant scent of flowens was permeating the air.
The perfect place to relax, Harry thought.
They all took place on the soft poufs, making themselves comfortable. Harry snapped his fingers and coffee appeared on the table in front of them.
A small, soft smile appeared on his face as he recalled what Draco had told him the day before.
"You're practically family now, Potter.” the blond boy had said, head held high but unable to meet Harry's eyes. "And I know that you took a liking to Malfoy's very best coffee, so I told my house elf to tend to you, too. Just snap your fingers and what you wish for will appear."
Harry had then hugged Draco to death, relishing in the dark blush that appeared on his cheeks.
He would have so much fun torturing him like this! It was better than arguing and cursing each other, for sure.
"Harry?"
He was brought back to the present by Hermione's worried voice.
Right. It wasn't the time to daydream about his Slytherin friends.
He took a deep breath. "It all started when I ran after Bellatrix at the Ministry," he began, not sure on how he would be able to approach the hardest part. But he soon discovered that once he began to speak words just flew out of his mouth and he couldn't seem to be able to stop.
He told them everything. He talked about the killing curse and the after effects, about the prophecy and his pact with the Slytherins. He even told them about Voldemort's letters, showing them the snake charm that he still wore at his wrist.
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed once he finished recounting the happenings at the trial. "It must have been so hard to face all of this alone!"
Tears were gathering at the corner of her eyes. Harry had to turn his eyes away from her. He didn’t deserve a friend this understanding.
"Bullocks, Harry. What Dumbledore did to you is... how could he dose you with veritaserum?!"
Harry blinked a few times at Ron's words. He had told them he had killed a person, cast unforgivables, freed Death Eaters, allied with the Slytherins, wrote letters to Voldemort and Ron was focussing on the most insignificant detail of the whole story.
"Ron is right. And keeping the prophecy from you wasn't his smartest move, too.” Hermione commented.
"Harry, are you okay?" she added seeing Harry's shocked, frozen expression.
"Hermione, did we break him?" Ron joked.
He put a hand on Harry's chest and pushed him lightly. Unable to react in time, Harry just fell backwards.
He silently thanked the Room of Requirements when a pouf suddenly materialized beneath his head, avoiding him to smash it into the hard stone floor.
"Merlin's beard, Hermione, we broke him!!"
At Ron's panicked voice Harry seemed to be able to get himself back together.
"Are you really okay with what I told you?” he asked in disbelief. "Why aren't you angry at me? Why aren't you screaming? Why aren't you calling the Aurors? I killed a person! I..." he broke off, unable to continue with his rant.
Why were his friends so understanding?
"Of course we are not okay with you using the unforgivables, Harry," stated Hermione "but...”
“…but war is war, mate. We don't approve, but we understand." Ron cortinued.
Harry felt tears gather in his eyes. Could it be... would his friends still be his friends after all?
"But, just so we are clear, the thing you have going on with You-Know-Who just gives me the creeps!”
"Ron!” Hermione chastized him, reaching out to lightly slap him on the arm. “It's called strategy!”
Harry was grateful Hermione could make sense out of the whole ordeal, because Harry hadn’t the slughtest idea of what he was doing. He was not good at planning, he was more of a ‘on the heat of the moment’ kind of person, but if his friend had been able to see the strategy in that, then he could relax a little.
He reached to the table to grab a cup of coffee which, thanks to the impeccable job of the house Elf, was still steaming hot.
"So, what are we going to do now, Harry?'' Hermione suddenly asked.
Harry coughed a few times, the coffee he had been sipping going down the wrong way and almost clocking him.
"We?" he asked, dumbfounded.
"Why, of course, Harry. Did you expect us to let you fight this battle alone?"
"Yeah, mate, you're stuck with us for the foreseeable future."
"I can't allow you to take part in this, it's too dangerous!" he exclaimed, looking outraged.
"How is it more dangerous than looking for the Philosopher’s stone when we only knew a handful of spells?” Hermione asked.
"Or descending into the Chamber of Secrets knowing full well a bloody Basilisk was there waiting for us?"
"Or trying to free an Azkaban escapee while meddling with time itself?"
"Or going to the Ministry blindly, flying on thes-"
"I get it! " Harry bursted out laughing. "We did many, many dangerous things together. But this is different. You heard the prophecy: it's either me or Voldemort, and I think we all know that if it comes to it I won't be the one surviving the duel. If you side with me you'll be subjected to the same fate.”
He finished the sentence in a whisper, not wanting to fully acknowledge the fact that they only had a few months, years at best, to spend together.
"It doesn't necessarily have to be this way Harry." Hermione said, matching Harry's soft voice. “You said it yourself: Voldemort seems to be fascinated by you. He doesn't seem to be keen on killing you anymore... on the contrary, he is trying to recruit you. So what we have to is to exploit this weakness of him, take this chance and show him that you can coexist."
"But the war-"
“…will be fought by fully trained aurors and adults, Harry. If Voldemort lets you be, you have to let him be, in turn."
"And in the meanwhile we train!" Ron added. "If You-Know-Who changes his mind we'll be ready for him."
It took a second for Harry's brain to register what was being said.
"We?!”
***
It was only later that night, when his roommates were loudly snoring in their beds, that Harry found the time to write back to Voldemort.
Dear Voldemort,
I hope you didn't hurt Mr. Malfoy to extract the memory but yes, I was dosed and yes, your charm helped me greatly. Thank you.
I am not going to join your Death Eaters anytime soon, so please stop asking.
Draco promised to give me some... lessons on the matter, though, and I might be visiting Malfoy Manor during summer. Since I would never want to disrupt one of your infamous meetings with your associates, I will make sure you're not around if I were to visit.
On that note, am I right to assume you won't kill me on the spot if we were to run into each other anytime soon? It sounds silly to ask you this... after all you could say you won't and then off me as soon as you have me close enough.
It's just that I don't want to fight you. I know that you came after me and my parents because of a Prophecy, but I think we can both agree that I am no match to you.
I am not a fighter, nor a vanquisher, nor am I looking for glory. I am just Harry, and I’m more than happy to let the adults fight in this meaningless war.
May I keep the charm you gave me? I came to like it sitting on my wrist.
Let me know if I was successful in writing in parselscript.
Yours,
Harry Potter.
Harry reread the letter three times before folding it and putting it away to be sent the next morning.
He and Hermione had talked about what his reply should contain, and while almost pleading for his life hurt his Gryffindor pride, he understood the usefulness of it all. If Voldemort relented in his quest to try and kill Harry, he would have more time to train and be prepared.
He let out a tired sigh. The next day would be the last day of term before summer holidays began. As he snuggled under the covers and closed his eyes he made a mental note to talk to Draco and the Slytherins about their summer plans and the new developments before leaving the Castle.
***
"You what?!" Draco all but screamed, shaking his head. "Unbelievable! There's no way we are going to put up with Weasley and Granger for more than necessary!"
Harry sighed. He knew that asking the Slytherins to train his two best friends, too, was meaningless, but he had to at least try convincing them.
"Pretty please?" he begged, taking Draco's hands into his. "They promised they won't complain, and you get to boss them around a little."
"I said no."
"Please?"
"No.”
Harry huffed. He didn't want to recur to his last weapon, but Malfoy left him no choice.
"I'll owe you. I'll do anything you want."
That caught Draco's attention. He was a Slytiherin, after all.
"Anything?"
Harry nodded. "Anything. But you can only ask for one thing and I reserve the right to negotiate the terms of what you'll ask if the task is clearly impossible or against my principles."
Draco seemed to ponder on his statement for a few moments.
"Would you make a public announcement in which you say we Malfoys are the best?"
Harry didn't need to think before replying. "Yes."
"Would you join the Death Eaters?"
"No. Not negotiable."
Draco nodded his head. It was clear that he was testing Harry's boundaries.
"Would you go on a public date with me?"
"What?!” Harry's words burst out of his mouth before he could even realize he was spearing.
“Answer the question, Potter."
They were talking hypothetical, right?
"Yes" he answered, fidgeting on his feet. This was not how he had imagined the conversation would go.
"And-“ Draco continued, taking a step forward so that he was now towering over Harry. "-would you kiss me if I asked you to?"
Hypothetical. Hypothetical, Harry had to remind himself. Draco was just tossing around with him. In the end Harry was sure the blond would ask him to lose a Quidditch play or buy him something obnoxiously expensive.
Despite that, his reply came out a little louder than a whisper. "Yes.”
Draco smiled, taking a step backwards and exiting Harry's personal space, letting Harry’s lungs free to start functioning again.
"We have a deal." He said, thrusting his right hand in front of Harry.
Harry warily shook it.
The Slytherins around them, who had silently watched the scene playing before their eyes, were all smirking.
Harry decided to pay them no mind. One thing at a time.
As he rushed to pack the last things into his trunk, he was distracted by a light tapping at the window.
He knew owls were not admitted in their dorms, but this was their last day at Hogwarts and he really doubted anyone would get angry at him.
He let Hedwig perch on the back of his chair, retrieving the black letter tied to her leg.
Voldemort's reply had come sooner than he had expected, but he was grateful that he received it while still at Hogwarts and not back at the Dursleys.
He took an owl treat out from his trunk and let Hedwig take it and fly out of the window. She probably knew she only had a few hours left to stretch her wings before having to spend the whole summer coped up in her cage. She was a smart girl.
Harry sat on the bed and opened the letter, decided on penning a reply before heading to Hogsmeade to catch the train. He knew he wouldn't be able to write to anyone during summer.
Dear Harry,
Although with minor mistakes your letter was correctly written in parselscript. You misspelled all of the names, though, so I would suggest you practice a little more.
You can keep the charm I gave you, I have no need for it and it might still be useful in the future. Keep it on your person at all times.
I am pleased with your words, Harry. Although I would prefer you joining me, keeping out of the war will suffice for the moment.
You are right to assume I will not kill you if we were to meet, but I cannot guarantee the same for my Death Eaters. I will call them off the task of capturing you, but I would advise to keep your guard up at all times.
Attached to the letter you will find a charm in the form of a book. Hiss 'open’ in parseltongue and the book will go back to its original size. To return it to its actual size, just hiss ‘finite’.
I expect you to read it during summer, Harry.
Do not disappoint me. And pay attention not to let anybody else touch it when in its bigger form: while the book itself is written in parselscript, the curses on it would immediately kill anyone who dared to touch it. Anyone but you, Harry.
The second charm included in the envelope is a portkey to Malfoy Manor. I know you are spending the summer somewhere in the muggle world. This portkey shall help you move faster and undetected.
The activation word is peacock. I was not the one to choose it, unfortunately, but I am the one who modified the portkey so that it only activates when spoken to in parseltongue. It can only transport one person. Do not try to bring the Order of the Phoenix with you.
I expect to see you by the end of June.
Until then,
Lord Voldemort.
Harry stared at the letter, shocked. He emptied the envelope on the bed and, true to Voldemort’s words, two charms fell out of it.
One was silver, in the shape of a small peacock ruffling its feathers.
This must be the portkey, he reasoned, slipping the charm on the bracelet at his wrist.
The other one looked like a small, black square. Upon a closer inspection Harry could make out some golden squiggles on what would be the book cover, as well as a golden number I on its spine. The book reeked of dark magic, so much so that Harry wondered how it had been possible for Hedwig to fly through Hogwarts’ wards without setting off some kind of alarm.
Or maybe the teachers had been alerted and were now searching the Dungeons for Dark artifacts.
They wouldn’t suspect a Gryffindor to bring in such a dark object... definitely not Harry Potter for sure.
Without touching the charm, Harry hissed the word for it to go back to its original size and almost jumped off of the bed in surprise.
The book was way bigger and thicker than what he had been expecting. He focused on the title, the squiggles moving to shape the English alphabet.
‘Introduction to the Dark Arts for beginners’.
Well, the title seemed innocent enough, but the curses Voldemort had told Harry were placed on the book didn’t make him want to touch it, let alone read it.
He did a double take when he noticed the name of the author written in golden letters on the bottom right of the cover: Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Huh? Had Voldemort written a book? When? And why hadn’t Dumbledore told him about it?
A noise outside of the dorm door had Harry startle again. He quickly reduced the dimensions of the book, wrapped it in a spare handchierchef and put it in the inner pocket of his robe. He wasn't ready to touch it, yet.
As soon as he had pocketed the letter, the door opened to reveal the laughing face of his best friend.
"Mate! Are you done packing? We’re having one last game of exploding snaps downstairs, want to join?"
“Coming!"
He would worry about Voldemort's upsetting gift in the solitude of his room at the Dursleys.