10
As it turned out, Harry didn't have to worry much about summer at the Dursleys.
A couple of days into the break a few people Harry recognized as members of the Order of the Phoenix came knocking at the door of Number 4, Privet Drive and took him back to the Headquarters of the Order.
It wasn't the same without Sirius there.
It was like the house could feel its rightful owner had passed away and every room felt gloomier than the last time Harry had been there.
Or maybe it was because of the memonies connected with every room Harry stepped into. Sirius laughing in the kitchen, the Order gathering in the main study, his godfather telling him stories in front of the fireplace in the sitting room...
The only place Harry had never been with Sirius was the library, so he spent the majority of his time there.
As he distractly turned the pages of a book about the Black family, Harry wondered -not for the first time- if it would have been better to spend the summer at the Dursleys. At least there he had something better to do rather than wast away in a candlelit room all day. At least he could have gone outside and tend to the garden.
Ron and Hermione had written him once, telling him they would join Harry at Grimmauld Place before his birthday, which left Harry with a little less than a month to spend here. Alone.
Lupin and Dumbledore visited sometimes (in occasion of super-secret Order meetings, to which Harry was still forbidden to take part to) but they never really stayed long enough for Harry's solitude to dwell.
On the forth day of his confinement, Harry gave in and enlarged the book-charm he had received from Voldemort.
As he studied its cover he realized he should have asked Blaise to check the book for curses and maybe research the counter to them.
He was mostly alone now, but what if he forgot the book somewhere when Ron and Hermione came to live here?
It was too dangerous.
He knew he shouldn’t even consider touching the book, but Voldemort expected him to at least read it and Harry really didn't want to upset him now that it seemed they had a sort of truce going on between them.
Not to say that he was completely bored out of his mind.
He cautiously touched the cover, ready to jump out of the way if the book suddenly animated and tried to bite off his fingers like Hagrid’s had done multiple times during third year.
Nothing happened.
Harry wetted his lips and held his breath as he finally flipped the cover open to look at the first page.
Surprisingly, the book was hand written. He could notice a slight blur on some words: it was probably written in parseltongue, then.
He noticed there was no index or table of contents -which was to be expected, given the fact that the book had probably been written by hand during the course of several years- so he turned the first few blank pages until he found more writings.
The fist chapter was about the definition of "dark arts".
It described in detail the difference between Dark magic and Black magic and explained the historical reasons for which both black and dark magic became illegal in the first place.
Harry didn’t care much about that last part: he would use any kind of magic if it meant he could survive the war.
He didn't mind using a drop or two of his own blood in potions or rituals, either. Was it so different from the polyjuice potion that required hairs or… well, dna in the end?
What Harry feared the most about the dark arts was their tendency to be addicting.
He discovered that chapter two held all the answers to his questions. It appeared that humans only developed an addiction to the spells that used emotions as fuel. The cruciatus and the killing curse were obviously among them.
Using one’s hatred to power the spell resulted in an imbalance of the magical and emotional core, which led to a state of euphory that could last for hours.
The only solution to contrast that was by reaching a state of magical exhaustion, which was exactly what Harry had done in the Room of Requirements.
He recalled that the Slytherns had told him something similar when he had asked about the unforgivables after effects, so he had no reason to believe Voldemort was lying in this book. Not yet.
He read the book avidly, page after page until he reached the third chapter: "defensive spells".
Harry stared at the page for a fow seconds. Defensive spells? Defensive dark magic? Did such a thing even exist?
He thought everything involved with the dark arts would entail sufferings, blood and pain, but if defensive spells really existed he would make sure to memorize them all.
Light spells could only do so much against dark curses, after all.
He turned the page and began to read once again, only to abruptly stop a few minutes later.
Here and there on the page, right where the names of the spells should have been written, there were blank spaces. He quickly skimmed the book and noticed that each and every spell had been whitened out.
He groaned, closing the book and letting his head fall on it. Voldemort had played him! And he had waltzed right into Voldemort’s trap without even noticing it.
There was no way he could forget about what he had just read. If dark defensive spells and healing charms really existed, he would learn them no matter the cost.
Voldemort must have known that, and that’s why he deleted all the names of the spells. He wanted Harry to go to him.
I expect to see you by the end of June.
With a sigh Harry moved to the desk to retrieve a piece of parchment and a quill. It was time to pay a visit to Malfoy Manor.
***
Malfoy Manor was exactly as he had been expecting. A tall, gray fence surrounded a vaste clearing with trees and benches here and there.
On the far right he could see a large number of trees -a forest, maybe?- while on the left, if he squeezed his eves a little, he could make out the shape of poles with rings on them. Trust the Malfoys to have a quidditch pitch in their estate.
He walked for a few minutes on a stone path before he noticed the manor in front of him. Well, he had never researched the definition of manor in a vocabulary, but he was pretty sure that the building in front of him could easily be defined as a castle.
At least now he knew where Draco's ego was coming from.
The garden Harry crossed was full of flowers he was sure couldn’t bloom all at once, but there they were: cherry trees in full blossom next to hydrangeas, a bunch of roses that shared a patch of soil with pansies and camelias.
If Harry hadn’t spent so much time tending to the garden at the Dursleys he probably wouldn’t have noticed, but he had to stop for a few minutes and stare in awe at the magnificent display of flowers. It was absolutely stunning. Oh, how he loved magic!
Here and there he could also catch glimpses of white peacocks, studying him from the safety some small bushes could provide them.
He let out a small laugh when he remembered the activation word for the portkey that had brought him here. Lucius did really have a thing for peacocks, didn't he?
As soon as he reached the entrance of the manor the doors flung open. Draco was there, waiting for him with a worried expression on his face.
"Welcome to Malfoy manor, Potter." he said, gesturing around him. "I hope you know what you are doing." he added in a whisper.
Harry decided to ignore it and stepped into the hall on the carpeted floor. The doors slowly closed behind him.
"Don't worry, Dragon, I wouldn’t have come at all if I suspected my life would be in danger." he replied with a smile on his lips.
To tell the truth he wasn't a hundred percent sure this was a good idea -and that was the main reason for which he hadn’t told Ron and Hermione anything about his plan of visiting Voldemort at Malfoy Manor.
He wanted to make sure it was safe to bring his two best friends there before risking their lives.
Besides, it was easier to fight and flee when you didn't have to worry about others… but Draco didn't need to know every thought that crossed Harry’s mind. He hadn't risen to Harry’s bait and hadn’t replied to the use of the nickname he hated, which told Harry just how much the blond boy was worried for him.
“Really," he added when it became clear that Draco wasn’t going to move anytime soon. "you don't need to worry, Draco. I wrote to him, and we agreed to meet today. Besides, I have a long history of surviving and escaping him if worse comes to worst."
He clasped Draco's shoulder and squeezed, pushing a little to get the boy to move and cooperate.
"I don't know how you do it, Potter.” Draco’s voice was merely above a whisper. “I can barely stand to be in the same house as him while you, who by right should fear for your life, purposefully seek him out to spend time together. You must be mad."
Harry laughed, looping his arm into the crook of Draco's elbow and pulling him along the corridor he could see before him.
"I told you, Draco: I am not afraid of him. I can defend myself just fine if need be, but I really want him to teach me a few spells and he seems to be intrigued by me enough not to kill me on the spot.” he said, but the unspoken ‘at least, I hope so’ lingered in the air between them.
Draco seemed to find his resolve, then. He squeezed Harry's arm against him as he started leading him up to the second floor and down a long hall, where Harry suspected Voldemort’s study was.
“Okay, but I'm not going to leave you alone. I'm staying with you." The blond boy stated, face set in a decided -even if still a little fearful- expression.
They walked in silence for a few minutes. When Diaco stopped in front of a door on the left side of the hall, Harry took a deep breath and gripped his wand with more force than it was necessary.
He was more than aware that this might have been the best decision he had ever made as well as the worst one. It all depended on what the man behind the closed door was thinking and had been scheming.
Draco glanced at him for a long moment, then steadied himself and knocked three times on the door.
"Enter."
The reply came sooner than Harry had been expecting. He squared his shoulders and took a step forward, entering the room Draco had just opened the door of.
"My Lord," the boy beside Harry greeted, graciously kneeling on the floor. "Harry Potter has arrived."
Voldemort was sitting behind his desk, head bent forward on papers with the Ministry seal on them.
Had Voldemort's men infiltrated high ranking positions in the Ministry already?
Harry gulped. If Voldemort already held this much power it was clear the light side would not stand a chance against him. The Order was good and all, but they weren't well organized to fight and, if they were to exclude the Aurors, none of them had been trained to fight in an open war.
Not to say that if Voldemort could move the strings of those working at the Ministry passing laws and changing things without anyone being the wiser, the Order would be completely useless when the Dark side made their move.
It was vital now more than ever that Harry and his friends stay out of every aspect of the war.
"Em... Hello." Harry said, but unlike Draco he didn't kneel or bend into a bow. He couldn't risk lowering his ward and creating openings for Voldemort to easily hit him.
In response to Harry's greeting, Voldemort finally raised his head to meet his eyes.
"Harry Potter. We meet again."
Hary fidgeted on his feet. The silence that descended in the room made him uncomfortable, but what do you say to your mortal enemy who has been trying to kill you for the last fourteen years of your life?
"Erm… Yes. I find you well?" he hadn’t intended to make it sound like a question but, really, there was only so much he could expect from his mind as of now.
His attention was completely focussed on quelling the urge to draw his wand and run far, far away from those blood red eyes that were studying him.
Voldemort tilted his head to one side, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"I must say I did not expect you to come today." Voldemort said, voice high and close to a hiss. It sounded exactly like the voice Harry could hear almost every night in his nightmares.
"You must be very stupid to come here and face me alone. Very stupid, or very brave".
Harry felt the blood rush from his face straight to his heart, which began to pump madly.
He steadied his hold on the wand, but did not withdraw it from his pockets yet. There was the possibility, slim as it was, that Voldemort was testing him.
He clenched his teeth and refused to take the step backward that his brain and his legs were practically begging him to take.
He had noticed Draco growing stiff at his side, but he, too, hadn’t moved from his kneeling position. He probably knew he would be disposed of as soon as he made any movement other than breathing and blinking his eyes.
Harry had to thine fast. Was Voldemort threatening him? Expecting him to fight? Not to fight? Should Harry answer back or keep his mouth shut?
Admittedly, his tendency to speak without thinking his words over had caused him many more troubles than necessary, but when adrenaline kicked in there wasn't much he could do.
The only thing he was certain of was that he wouldn't grovel on the ground begging Voldemort to spare him. He had come here knowing that the possibilities of it being a trap were high, considering who he was dealing with. He was prepared to fight.
But now Draco was in the room, too, and he was trembling so much that he wouldn't be able to cast a single spell, not even a shield to defend himself. There was no way Harry would be able to fight and protect Draco at the same time, which was precisely the reason for which he had wanted to come alone.
He grimaced. Things never went according to his plans, did they?
Think, Harry, think!
"I am known for being brave to the point of stupidity, you know." he said at last.
Stalling with Voldemort had helped him in the past, he hoped it would help him now, too. "I am sure some of the reports you got from the Death Eaters stated that fact in bold letters."
Voldemort slowly tilted his head to the other side in a way that reminded Harry of a predator studying his prey before striking.
"They did not use that exact wording, but they hinted at it more than once." Voldemort admitted.
"Besides" Harry continued, happy with the fact that he was still standing on his feet. "I really wanted to see if the activation word of the portkey really was peacock. I trust it was Mr. Malfoy who chose it?"
Voldemort's lips slightly curled upwards. "Indeed. So you risked everything, your life included, just to see if Lucius was that much of a narcissist?"
"Well, his wife is named Narcissa, after all. And I wanted to see if Draco's ego was justified. He was always telling anyone that would listen about his big manor and his well of money, you know…”
"Hey!" Draco hissed from beside Harry, but still didn't dare to move an inch.
"What? You have a quidditch pitch on your grounds, I get where all the boasting came from.”
"Still, I could very well have killed you on the spot."
Voldemort’s words were like ice down Harry's back. Right. He had almost forgotten what was at stake here. But he hadn't been crucioed yet, so maybe stalling really was the right approach to take with Voldemort. Either that, or the Dark Lord was just playing with him.
"You could have killed me at the Ministry, too, or with a nasty curse on one of the many letters you sent me, yet you didn't. That's why I came here today." he admitted, looking Voldemort straight in the eyes. ”So go on and kill me if you want."
He gripped his wand so tight his hand began to hurt, and slightly bent his knees to jump out of a killing curse should one suddenly come his way.
"Or-" he continued "you could teach me the spell you purposefully whitened out in the third chapter of your book."
He watched, holding his breath, as Voldemort narrowed his eyes for a fraction of a second before his face flattened out, erasing any sign of emotion there.
"Are you willing to learn under my guidance, Harry? I am not a compassionate teacher. Nor do I tolerate laziness. Under my tutoring you will be learning defensive and healing spells, but you will also be expected to master offensive magic. Dark magic. Do you have what it takes?"
Harry gulped. Did he have what it takes?
He had tortured and killed, he could not deny it, but would he be able to cast gruesome curses?
No.
Bellatrix had been the exception to the rule. If he had to kill he would make sure to make it quick and as painless as possible. He didn't enjoy seeing people suffer.
But again, this was a war. People, his enemies, would gladly use those unspeakable curses on him and his friends, if given a chance. Not knowing them was not acceptable. He would learn them and their counter curses so that he could easily recognize them and act fast in a battle.
He had been expecting an offer like this from Voldemort, anyway. He had discussed it with Hermione for a long time: they were both sure that Voldemort would soon make his move.
"I don't know if I have what it takes, but l am willing to learn anything you wish to teach me."
Voldemort's face immediately transformed as a horrible grin distorted his features.
"There's only one condition." If Voldemort didn’t agree to it they wouldn’t be able to work together.
"What is it, Harry?"
"I won't cast any curse or illegal spells on human beings…living beings. Animals are out of the way. Rocks, trees, dueling dummies are okay, I suppose."
Voldemort's grin stretched wider, if possible.
"No living beings, but during our lessons you follow each and every order that I give you.”
Harry gulped. Why did he have the feeling that it was Voldemort who would gain the most from their lessons? Well, it was too late now to back off.
“Agreed."
"Then, Harry Potter, we have a deal."