11
Harry had to admit Voldemort was an excellent teacher. If one could ignore the fact that he was a Dark Lord, a mass murderer and on the brink of insanity, that is.
The two of them spent hours in the study with Malfoy's house elves popping in here and there to bring them drinks and refreshments.
Draco had excused himself immediately after it became clear the Dark Lord wasn't going to kill Harry. He couldn't really blame the blond for fleeing, though. Draco had told him he could barely stand to be in the same house as his Lord, let alone the same room.
Right now Voldemort was explaining to him some basic magical theory and Harry had to admit that he was completely clueless about the topic. They had never talked about this during Defense at Hogwarts.
"And this is the reason why a simple protego will not be able to stop any dark curse rated five and below. Any questions?"
Harry eyed his messy notes, trying to make sense out of them. They had been at this for hours and not once had Voldemort lost his patience or cursed Harry for not understanding.
And that was saying something, since Harry barely understood what the other man was talking about.
"So, basically, you need to counteract dark cures with dark shields, right?" Harry asked, scratching absentmindedly his chin.
“Yes, and no."
Harry frowned. It didn’t make sense!!
Voldemort waved his hand and in the air in front of Harry's eyes appeared a scale from -10 to +10.
"This-" Voldemort gestured to the scale "is magic. The closer the number is to zero and the more neutral the spell is, with minus ten being the darkest curses and plus ten being pure light spells."
Harry nodded. Voldemort waved his hand once again and the numbers from -5 to +5 started glowing faintly.
"Neutral spells, mildly light magic and mildly dark magic can be used to counter each other. This is why a protego, which is classified as 0, can protect you from a levicorpus as well as a stinging hex, which are respectively classified as +1 and -1 on the scale."
"Wait. The stinging hex is dark magic?!" Harry bursted out, surprised.
They had been using it for pranks at school! How could it be dark? Why weren't the teachers saying anything about it? Why weren't people getting arrested?
"It is. You are confusing dark magic with illegal dark arts, Harry."
"Uh?"
Voldemort sighed and Harry imagined that if the man still had a nose he would now be pinching its bridge. And wasn’t it a fun image to think about!
"Spells and curses in this range are not classified as illegal because they are still widely used in everyday life. Think about the cutting curse: people usually use it to cut vegetables when cooking, but on this scale it is classified as -3."
Harry blinked a few times.
"You are saying that not all the dark arts are illegal, then?"
"Oh no, Harry, quite the contrary. Dark arts, per definition, include spells, curses and hexes classified -6 to -9. They are all illegal, as of now."
As of now.
Did it mean that there would be a time where those spells would be considered okay to cast?
Oblivious to Harry's growing dread, Voldemort continued. "Spells in the range from -5 to 0 are dark, yes, but safe to cast because they do not involve emotions, so their casting is approved by the Ministry. The higher -or lower-the number is, the more emotion is required to cast, the more... dangerous it becomes."
Harry hummed. What Voldemort was saying did make sense, in a way.
"So the cruciatus and the killing curse would be very low on that scale, right?"
"They are both at level -9."
"Nine, not ten?” Harry asked, curious. Was there magic worse than the unforgivables?
"Number 10, in negative as well as in positive, defines Black and White magic. Inferi, for example, and others… unspeakable rituals."
A shiver of fear ran down Harry's spine. Inferi. He had read about them. Terrible, terrible things. His stomach churned at the idea that someone would willingly create those creatures, but thinking about it...
"Have you-" he stopped for a second to clear his throat, which was so parched that it made it difficult to talk. "Have you ever cast Black magic?" his voice had been barely above a whisper, but he was sure Voldemort had heard him well enough.
"I am a Dark Lord, Potter. Of course I have been walking paths no normal wizard ever has."
Harry froze on the spot. Voldemort had played around with Black magic... he probably had created an army of inferi, then... and really, why was he so surprised to hear Voldemort's answer to his question? He knew Tom Riddle was no normal wizard.
But if what Voldemort had told him at the beginning of their lesson was true, namely that he would have to fight fire with fire in order to have a chance to succeed in protecting himself and his loved ones, could it mean that Harry had to learn Black magic, too?
He felt sick. There was no way he would ever resurrect a dead body, not even to defend himself from an army of inferi.
"Relax, Harry, I do not require you to learn any black magic. We will focus on spells between -5 and -9 for the time being."
Harry noodled, but he was still very worried. Luckily, Voldemort seemed to catch onto his train of thoughts. Well, he had probalady been reading Harry's mind all along, but he didn't care much. Not when he was on the verge of a panic attack.
“No one can cast black magic other than me, Potter. It requires power and years of mastering the art to cast even the simplest of spells. Many of those who try to delve into the black arts without the proper preparation lose their life at the first attempt. I, myself, have been close to meeting my end during those attempts. It is not a field of study that can be taken lightly, not even for academic purposes.”
Harry desperately wanted to believe him. He forced his shoulders to relax and took a deep breath to steady himself.
“Okay, so how do I stop a dark curse coming my way?" he asked, looking for a change of topic.
Voldemort immediately complied.
"It depends on the color and the speed of the curse. Of course, wand movements are very revealing about which type of curse the caster is using, but skilled people can cast silently and wandlessly, so you really can only rely on color and speed."
Harry scribbled down Voldemort’s words on a piece of parchment, determined to learn as much as he could before he would have to return to his gloomy room at Grimmauld Place.
***
When Voldemort finally called it a day, it was already dark outside. Engrossed in the lecture as he had been, Harry hadn't even noticed it was this late.
"You have potential." Voldemort said as he escorted Harry to the door of his study. “With a teacher as good as myself and some practice, I am positive your magical skills will improve tremendously."
Harry didn't know how to respond to that. He didn't want Voldemort to teach him magic to the level he would start to consider Harry a threat and decide that it was better to kill him off, after all.
Well, Harry was indeed learning complex and dark magic in order to kill Voldemort one day, if need be, but he surely wasn't going to say it aloud.
What he needed to do right now was to send Voldemort off tracks, so that the Dark Lord wouldn’t consider him a potential enemy.
“You are a good teacher, and the topic was interesting, to say the least."
Voldemort’s eyes shone in amusement. "Oh? Are you already this much captivated by the dark arts, Harry?"
Harry shrugged. To tell the truth they had just covered the basics of magical principles, no spells, curses or, well... magic involved. He hadn't been captivated by the subject itself, but by Voldemort's way of explaining it and the passion he put behind each word he said.
"Are you willing to teach me some more things during summer?"
Voldemort scanned Harry's face for a few moments. He must have found what he had been looking for, Harry mused, because his lips slowly curled up in a small smirk.
"I expect you to be in my study every Tuesdays and Thursdays at nine sharp."
"All right. I'll be here."
Voldemort opened the door with a wave of his hand. He gestured for Harry to step out into the hallway, where he discovered Draco was waiting for him.
"My Lord." the boy greeted, bowing deeply. "Will you join us for dinner, tonight?" Draco’s voice was steady, but Harry could see that his friend was slightly trembling.
How could Voldemort enjoy scaring his followers to this point? Surely there was another way to get their full obedience?
"I have work to do tonight. I will have supper in my study." Voldemort replied before disappearing once again in his study and closing the door behind him.
As soon as he heard the door click close, Draco straightened his back, grabbed hold of Harry's sleeve and began dragging him down the hallway. They walked in silence for a couple of minutes, Draco always a few feet ahead of him, but after they turned a corner the blond boy suddenly stopped.
Before Harry could even process what was even happening Draco pushed him against the closest wall. Not having expected the action in the least, Harry slammed the back of his head right into the frame of a painting causing a sharp pain to spread all the way down to his shoulders.
"What the hell?” he yelped, hands flying upwards to massage his head and neck. "Are you crazy?!"
Draco pinned him to the wall with an ice cold stare. "Crazy? Me? I should ask you the same question, Potter! Do you have any functioning neurons left?! You almost got the both of us killed back there! And for what?! What in the world made you believe you would be safe here and in the presence of the Dark Lord, nonetheless!"
By the end of his outburst Draco was almost screaming and heavily panting.
Harry held his hands open in front of him, both to show Draco that he was not armed and to be ready to stop him should fists suddenly start to fly around.
"I admit I had no specific plan, but it all turned out well, didn't it?”
Draco narrowed his eyes af him.
"I mean, I believe it was only just a test, we've never been in danger. Besides, Voldemort had told me in a letter that he would not kill me if I came here to meet him, so…"
"So you blindly trusted your worst enemy, of course it makes sense!"
"Well, I trusted you, too, in case you didn't notice. And we were not friends, back then either."
Draco rolled his eyes. "On yes, Potter, because trusting a rival at school is exactly the same thing as putting your life into the hands of a madman who has been trying to kill you at every accasion he got for the last fifteen years!"
Harry sheepishly ducked his head.
“If you put it that way..."
“Honestly! A few days away from school and you revert back to the Griffindork you were at the beginning of the year!" By now Draco sounded exasperated, but not angry anymore.
"Hey! I did have a plan, you know. A long term plan, yes, but I am not jumping into it without taking into consideration the choices I have.”
“Whatever, Potter. I am just glad you’re still alive." Draco stopped abruptly, surprised that those words actually came out of his mouth. A faint blush coloured his cheeks, but he quickly turned around to hide it. "I mean, I am happy that the Dark Lord let us go unscathed. But you gave me the scare of my life back there, Potter, so I pretend a payment back.”
Harry watched in amusement as Draco tried to save the face, but deep inside he felt a warm feeling spread around in his chest.
Despite his harsh words, Draco had been worried for Harry. The warmth spread from his chest to his face, resulting in a sincere, genuine smile. "Whatever you want, Draco.”
The blond boy nodded, grabbing once again Harry's sleeve and dragging him along the hallway. "Good. Because you're having dinner here, Potter, with my family. And that's not up for discussion."
"What?!”
***
Harry thanked Merlin that there were only the four of them sitting at the enormous table of the dining room.
He didn't know how he would have reacted If other Death Eaters had dinner with them: the atmosphere was tense enough as it was.
Lucius sat at the head of the table with his wife on his right and Draco on the left. Harry sat beside Draco, facing an empty chair.
"Mr. Potter, I am sorry we weren't able to properly greet you earlier." Mrs. Malfoy said, a small smile on her lips.
She didn’t appear to be hostile at all, but she wasn't very welcoming either. She probably was grateful to Harry for freeing her husband, but she also was well aware that it was because of Harry that Lucius had been sent to Azkaban in the first place.
Harry bowed his head slightly, showing just that much deference that wouldn't label him as an unmannered troll, but nothing more. He might trust Draco, but he didn't trust his parents.
"No offense taken, Mrs. Malfoy. Your other... guest required my presence for the greater part of the day, after all." He paused for a second, wondering if talking about Voldemort at the dinner table would be considered impolite.
Well, he had never received much of an education on table manners among purebloods, the Malfoys would have to live with it.
"Thank you for inviting me to dinner, by the way."
Mrs. Malfoy nodded and with a snap of her fingers food suddenly appeared on the table. Harry's mouth watered just by looking at the deliciously smelling food in front of him. It didn't matter that, apart from broccoli and mashed potatoes, he didn't recognize one single dish on the table.
"Guests first, Potter. What would you like to eat?"
When Harry didn't immediately respond Draco poked at him with a finger.
"What now?" he hissed back, a little irritated.
"We are not at Hogwarts, Potter. We have manners. And manners state that until the guest has served himself the hosts can't eat, so hurry up and take something on your plate."
Only then did Harry notice that the three Malfoys were patiently waiting with their plates empty.
"Oh, I didn’t know it. Sorry." He immediately started filling his plate with anything that was close to him and easily reached.
It didn't matter that he didn’t know the name or the ingredients of the dish: it all smelled delicious so he decided he would try a little bit of everything.
The Malfoys soon began to fill their plates, too, to Harry’s greatest relief. He studied the food on his plate for a few seconds: there were a few different vegetables, something resembling meatballs -of which meat he hadn’t the slightest idea- and some stew. He decided to try the stew first.
As soon as the first spoonful touched his lips he was sure he had never eaten anything tastier in his life. He went to the meatballs, then: they were tender and seasoned to perfection, so much so that he couldn't suppress the moan of appreciation that escaped his lips.
Draco immediately turned towards him, a smirk plastered on his face. "Enjoying dinner, are you?"
Harry licked his lips clean, closing his eyes for a second to fully appreciate the flavor that still lingered on his tongue. "It's the most delicious thing I've had in my entire life!" he replied, not caring that his words might boost Draco’s already inflated ego.
Seeing as there was still plenty of food left on the table, he dared fill his plate a second time.
“Mrs. Malfoy, would you mind terribly if I asked you the recipe for this? I am sure I could never cook anything this good, but I would very much like to try this back at g-… err… where I am living now."
The woman had a small smile on her lips. "Of course not, Mr. Potter. It is a dish my mother used to cook once or twice a week when I was younger. I am glad you like it. I will ask the house elves to write down the recipe for you. Is there a-"
"Nonsense, mother." Draco cut her off.
Harry was genuinely surprised that he would dare contradict his mother, let alone talk over her in the middle of a sentence. Mrs. Malfoy, too, looked incredulous.
"It is a recipe passed down through generations of Malfoys. If Potter wants to eat it, he will have to come here for dinner every once in a while."
Harry looked at Draco in shock and thus completely missed the flash of understanding that appeared on Mrs. Malfoy’s face, as well as the small upturn of Mr. Malfoy's lips.
"I wouldn’t pass it to anyone else, I swear!" Harry pleaded. He really wanted that recipe. "I won't have anyone taste it, not even Ron and Hermione, not even the house Elf."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Why, do you have a house elf now, Potter?"
"I do, but that's beyond the point. If I swear I will be the only one ever laying my eyes on it, will you tell me the recipe?”
"No, Potter."
"Come on Draco!” Harry whined. For a moment he forgot where, and in the presence of whom he was.
"No, and that's final. I can only think of a possible solution to your problem." Draco’s eyes were twinkling in mischief and only now did Harry notice similar expressions on the faces of his parents.
Was Draco thinking about another boon?
"What is it?" he asked at last, because he couldn’t seem to be able to come to Draco's same conclusion.
Draco squared his shoulders, straightened his back and cleared his voice.
“It’s very simple, Potter, really." he said, puffing out his chest. "You will have to become a member of the Malfoy family."
Harry burst out in a laugh. “Yes, sure, Dragon. And while we wait for the impossible to happen I will just have you invite me over for dinner once or twice a week.”
Draco scrunched his nose. “Only if you put some effort into improving your horrible table manners.”
In response to that Harry just gave Draco the tongue, and with one last laugh they both went back to eating their dinner.
Neither of them noticed the calculating gaze Mrs. Malfoy was assessing them with.
***
As soon as dinner ended Mr. Malfoy, who had kept quiet for the whole time, approached Harry.
“Mr. Potter. A word, if you would?"
Harry only wanted to go back to Grimmauld Place and jump into bed, but he was aware that he would have to clear things with Mr. Malfoy sooner or later.
With a sigh, he let the man guide him to one of the many sitting rooms.
They sat one in front of the other on comfortable armchairs, a steaming cup of coffee magically materializing on the small table in front of them as they took their places.
Despite being completely full from dinner (he had had second helpings of almost everything on the table), Harry took the cup and began sipping slowly the hot beverage.
He closed his eyes to fully appreciate the rich flavor: it was his favorite blend.
"Mr. Potter,” Lucius Malfoy's voice was cold and official. It didn't sound at all like the deep albeit mocking tone he had come to associate with the man.
Harry put the cup back on the table and looked at the man straight in the eyes. Something was telling him this was going to be a long, serious conversation.
Mr. Malfoy cleared his voice. "Mr. Potter,” he repeated “I wanted to thank you personally for testifying at the trial on my behalf. I am very aware I would have spent my whole life at Azkaban or as an... escapee, hadn’t you vouched for me. Your help has been greatly appreciated."
The man stopped for a second. He looked very uncomfortable and sat so stiffly in the soft armchair that Harry wondered if he ever suffered from back pain.
“As you know I also am the Lord of the Malfoy family. Since you did this family a great service with freeing me, I am willing to repay you in any way you see fit for the situation. What is your request, Mr. Potter? We have money, power -political and economical, estates, prestige. Name what you want and it will be yours."
If Lucius had looked uncomfortable while speaking, it was nothing compared to what Harry was feeling now. He had freed the man in exchange for Draco's help, he had most definitely not done it out of the goodness of his heart.
"Erm... I don't really need anything from you, Mr. Malfoy." He would have really liked to ask the man to withdraw from the Death Eaters, but he was pretty sure Mr. Malfoy would never have granted his request. Moreover, there was no need to piss Voldemort off more than necessary.
“I have made a deal with Draco and your freedom was what he requested from me. Just... maybe... try to refrain from killing or hurting my friends?" he asked anyway, because he might not be able to ask the man to leave his Lord’s side, but he would be more than satisfied if he could succeed in guaranteeing his friends' safety.
The man looked thoughtful, which didn't bide well for Harry and his request.
"We are at war, Mr. Potter." Mr. Malfoy said at last, lacing his fingers together and letting his hands rest on his lap. "I cannot afford to check the identity of those surrounding me if it is a kill of be killed situation. As you might imagine, a second of distraction could cost me or one of my companions our lives."
Harry nodded. He hadn’t been in many fights, but he knew very well that when adrenaline kicked in instincts took over the brain and there was no room for rational thoughts.
"What about this: you promise to not purposefully seek them out. If they fight you, you fight back. But if they stay neutral or decide not to partecipate in the war you let them be."
Mr. Malfoy pondered over Harry's words for a few moments. "Very well. If it is not a direct order from the Dark Lord and they refrain from fighting I will not purposefully attack them." he said at last.
Harry relaxed in his armchair, the tension suddenly leaving his body. His friends had no intention to fight in the war, they had admitted it to Harry more than once: they only fought because they were attacked first, but they all knew very well that they stood no chance against fully trained Death Eaters.
If he could convince Lucius Malfoy and his ‘colleagues' to leave his friends out of the conflict there was the chance that they could survive the war. Real chances, for once.
"I have to say you confuse me, Mr. Potter." Mr. Malfoy's silken voice brought him out of his musings.
"Why so?"
The man studied him for a few more seconds before answering. It was like he was trying to assess how to approach this new Harry Potter, who was completely different from the boy he had faced multiple times in the past.
"You asked me to spare your friends, but not yourself. One would expect you to think about your own wellbeing, too, but here you are, only worrying about others instead.”
Harry looked away, shespishly. Asking Mr. Malfoy to spare him, too, hadn’t even crossed his mind. Deep inside himself Harry knew he would have to join the fight sooner or later, so it hadn’t really mattered to him. He had come to live with the realization that he would die anyway, but he would do anything in his power to protect his friends.
“I can protect myself just fine.” He shrugged. “Somehow, even if I try really hard to avoid it, I always find myself in some kind of dangerous situation. One gets used to it, after a while. You begin to expect being attacked at any time. I am ready to face anything that comes my way, but I wish for my friends to have a peaceful life, if they so desire.”
He knew very well that Ron and Hermione would never leave his side, but he hoped that Neville, Luna and the DA members would take a step back from the fight.
He drank the last few mouthfuls of his coffee, then rose from his seat. Mr. Malfoy had been quiet for a while now, silently watching him.
“If we are done here I would like to go back to my place. The Headmaster visits sometimes, I don’t want him to grow suspicious.”
“But of course, Mr. Potter. Although I would advise you to start thinking of a suitable lie, if you are to spend entire days here at the Manor during summer.”
Right. He would be gone for the better part of the day on Tuesdays and Thursdays, after all. Plus the evenings he planned on staying at the Manor for dinner.
He would tell Ron and Hermione the truth about his whereabouts and maybe have them come along sometimes, but he did need a cover for when Dumbledore or members of the Order showed up to the empty house.
“I will come up with something.”
Mr. Malfoy escorted him to the entrance hall of the manor, but right when Harry was about to activate the Portkey and call it a night the man raised his hand, stopping him mid-phrase.
“Mr. Potter, may I ask you what are your intentions towards my son?”
Harry looked at him in confusion. Intentions? Did Mr. Malfoy fear he would suddenly attack Draco or constantly fight him like they had been doing for the past five years?
“Draco and I are friends, Mr. Malfoy. We didhave many fights and clashes during the past years, but we kind of reached an agreement. I won’t hurt your son, you don’t have to fear for him.”
Mr. Malfoy blinked his eyes a few times before slightly shaking his head. “I see. Draco will have to work hard with you.”
Harry glared at the man. He wasn’t a genius -out of the trio of friends, that was definitely Hermione- but he knew a couple of things about magic and he was sure he would learn anything that Draco would teach him quite fastly.
Mr. Malfoy had no right to assume he would make it hard for Draco on purpose!
"With your leave, I'm going back home now" Harry muttered. He activated the portkey before the man in front of him could as much as blink and in a few seconds he found himself back at Grimmauld Place.
First he needed a cup of tea, then he would go over his notes of Voldemort’s teachings until he was sure he had memorized every single word.
He wanted to impress Voldemort on his next lesson, after all.