Autoclave

Quirinus Quirrell.

The Ravenclaw had been a year or two behind Lucius in school, and they had never been close, though they had served the Dark Lord together. And when he showed up on their doorstep, dazed and confused, on the 5th of December, Lucius was rather unsure on the safety of letting him enter their home. At least, until the other pulled back his left sleeve to show the deep black of the Dark Mark on his arm, at which point Lucius ushered him quickly inside. They boys were on the Quidditch pitch, and he didn't want them to come running in on them, especially not until he had revealed how wonderfully Dark magicked Harry was to the other.

Bellatrix, though she was hiding from the law, had taken a shine to the boy the moment her sister had shown him off, especially when her bit of Legilimency revealed his disposition for strong Dark magics, and even his natural Dark ability of seeing magical cores. It was good they'd gotten to him before anyone from the Light had, or that probably would have been locked away inside him. Bella had pulled out of his mind in a fit of giggles, grabbing the boy and twirling him around in delight, her eyes sparkling with the tinge of Black madness. They had had to catch her to get the boy back after that, and Harry had thought this was wonderful fun, but for some reason Lucius felt that this time… Quirrell wouldn't take news of Harry Potter being on their side well. Not without some sort of explanation first.

When they were safely in his office, tea on the way and water in Quirrell’s quivering hand, Lucius sat in front of the younger patiently, wondering at the turban he wore and the odd demeanor of the man. “Your visit is quite the surprise, Quirinus. Might I inquire as to the reason for the sudden call?” He started, watching as the man drank his water gratefully, emptying the cup.

“I…” he coughed and frowned to himself. “I came to show you something important. And request your assistance on a matter pertaining to a mutual… acquaintance.”

Lucius nodded, pouring tea for them both when it arrived. “I shall assist you in any manner necessary.” It had been a while since he had needed to speak those words. Nearly ten years now, if he recalled correctly. It was the proper form of agreement used among the Dark Lord's most loyal. He was almost chilled to say those words, glancing at the other's arm as he remembered the darkness that was absent from his own faded mark. “And the task you need help with?” he asked after a moment of silence.

Quirrell didn't have the words to explain right off, so he turned, removing his turban. “Lucius… just like you asked, my Lord…” he said, seemingly to himself, until the turban was fully unwrapped and the face of Voldemort was revealed on the back of the other man’s head, bringing Lucius swiftly to his knees in respect. He didn't even question how, knowing his master to be a great spell craft and runes worker, and merely dropped into a low bow.

“Ahh, yesss… Lucius… I ssee you have not forgotten our waysss… I have heard, however, some… rumourssss.” The Dark Lord didn't sound like himself, the serpentine voice almost sounding like he had been speaking Parseltongue for a long period of time and didn't quite have time to stop speaking as such. Lucius was almost scared to reply.

“My Lord… I am sure that you have. You see… The Potter boy, the one that is the reason for your state. He has… Been brought up in the Dark. He has shown a great deal of potential, my Lord, he sees magical cores and speaks to snakes as you do… He even invented a written form of Parseltongue he was teaching to Draco when they were but 8 years old…” He hoped it would be enough of a start to keep himself and his family out of trouble, and the Dark Lord was indeed intrigued.

His original response to such rumours had been a rather consuming anger at the thought of his most loyal turning against him in such a definite way, but if the boy had been brought up to no longer be a danger to them and their cause… “Lucius… You pleasse me in this endeavor,” he paused and frowned at the shiver that ran through the blonde. “But that does not mean that you will be excused so easily for your actions.What you have said here means little. It will depend on the child himself. You will send him in and wait at the door, am I understood?”

Lucius would never argue with his Master, and knew that he had indeed spoken the truth, so he got to his feet without another word, going to call for both boys. He needed to speak with Harry shortly before he could send him in, but… The boy was truly Dark.

Harry had heard the prejudice against them, he had seen the way they were treated during the period in which Narcissa fought to be given guardianship in Sirius’s stead. When the boy met the Minister of Magic for the first time, the naturally happy and curious child had been capable of speaking for himself, and he had aid in no uncertain terms that any attempts to remove him from the Malfoy’s would end rather badly for those involved, because he didn’t WANT to be moved. They had saved him, and he made that very clear to everyone listening, the official investigation into the Dursleys starting the very next day.

It wasn’t that Lucius would be scared for the child to not show that he was one of them. He wasn’t even scared of the child not knowing how to address their Lord, as this had been established. No one thought the Dark Lord was dead, or their Marks would not be simply faded, but gone. They were tied to his magical core, after all, Harry had confirmed that just by looking at the Mark. He was scared that his master would hurt the boy, however. They had never been able to train him into not showing his emotions as plainly as day on his face, and Lucius knew this was partially because the boy was rather poor at Occlumency. Some had it naturally, and others didn’t, and he was disappointed to find out Harry didn’t, but that would just mean being careful around people.

Lucius was quick to send Draco up to his room when the boys arrived, and watched him go before speaking softly and quickly as he walked Harry to his office. “Harry. You have a visitor in my office. Our Lord has decided he wants to speak with you. Tell him all he asks for, Harry, don’t hold back. Remember what Cissa has taught you about manners.” He watched the boy’s eyes widen and take on a scared look for a moment, before the 10-year-old nodded and frowned.

“I won’t disappoint you, Father.” He had taken to calling them Father and Mother when he was 6, knowing that they weren’t really, but wanting to anyway. It brought pride to them both when he did so, and Lucius nodded, motioning him into the study. It would be up to Harry now, but he was capable of handling this himself. He was Harry Potter, after all.

***

“My Lord.” The boy knelt as soon as the door was closed behind him. To the Dark Lord, seeing the one who the prophecy that ruined his rule had named his “equal” kneeling in front of him was both pleasing and slightly unsettling. He was impressed by the swift compliance, however, and knew that this was truly something that Lucius would deserve to be rewarded for. He didn't have time for that at the moment, though.
*Stand. And come here.* He ordered coldly, in Parseltongue. That was the best way to gauge the boy's abilities in the language, and it had been a long time since he'd had someone who could understand him around. His pathetic family was the last of the snake-speakers, after all. That this boy felt familiar in the same way his beloved Nagini did, as well, lead him to quickly conclude that perhaps this child was indeed his… “equal.” In that the child held a bit of his soul inside of him.

Harry had never actually heard another human speaking in the snake-tongue before, and found himself almost giddy with excitement as he stood and approached the Dark Lord. *Yes, my Lord.* he spoke back, deciding that such would be appropriate in Parseltongue. He got a narrow eyed look for that, but couldn't hold back his grin at the chance, and this not only confused the Dark Lord, but intrigued him.

The child wasn't afraid of him… and while usually that meant that some fear needed be put into the boy, Voldemort decided that this would indeed work in his favor. *So you are a speaker.* He waited for the child to be close enough and then made eye contact, dipping into the younger’s mind. *Let's see what else you can do.* He came first upon a memory of flying, it seemed that was what Potter had been doing before he was called in, but he swiftly turned from that, rummaging for other things. Taking in the boy's life up until he was 5 was enough to make the Dark Lord's blood boil with rage, but when he saw the connection that had been made with his most trusted of followers, almost all of the Inner Circle for that matter, through alliances or friendships of children, he was reluctantly impressed by the way the boy seemed to handle himself. Perhaps use would come of this after all.

He finally settled on the oddity that was his ability to see magical cores in people, noting that there had been no glow to the terrible Muggles and that some people had less of one than others. He saw those of his followers, noting the large amount of potential in their offspring, and couldn't resist a glimpse at his own. Which was… different that he had expected. It was, of course, because it was the magical core of his host the boy had seen, a sickly green with yellow flecks through it, not as bright as even Narcissa. He pulled out of the boy's head with an unsatisfied grumble.

*Kneel, child.* He commanded, frowning in thought. *You have been made aware, by Severus, of the prophecy he heard pertaining to you and I. You have known that it calls you my equal. It is, of course, mistaken. You, boy, are a receptacle. Marked as my own by the scar on your head, you carry within yourself a piece of myself from the night that I came to kill you. As such, you are to be mine. You will be diligent and studious and when the time comes for my rule to take effect, you will stand with the Dark. Do you understand?*

Harry could feel the sealing magic in those words, green eyes wide as he nodded quickly. *Yes, my Lord.* He whispered, letting the magic seal those words in his head and his promise into his own core, delighting in the chill that came with the touch of that Dark magic. It was always a thrill, and he found himself once again giddy, despite having just sold his soul to whom many considered the devil. *My Lord, if I may ask a question?* He chanced a glance upwards, watching for the nod that he received. *Your host is dying, my Lord. I can see it in his magical core. It is... rotting. Is there no way that you can get a new body? Your own, that won't give you so little time?* He felt almost worried to have said as much, but he knew that the Dark Lord had to be feeling the strain on the body he kept. And he knew that Voldemort, more than anyone else in their lifetime, would be the best chance they had at taking back the wizarding world before they were found by the Muggles, so to see him in such a state was… well, rather disconcerting to Harry.

*I have my plans, and that's all you need to know. You are dismissed. Send Lucius back in, child.* He watched the boy go with rather muted but still mixed emotions. He felt that he had just sealed their victory, though part of him wanted to hide the boy away, to protect his soul. He would have to keep a close watch on the Potter, and that would fit in rather nicely with his plans.

***
The schooling of tutors was quick to slow and finally stop when the boys got their Hogwarts letters. It was a month before Harry’s birthday that they got them, on the 1st of July, and both boys were over-excited about it, hinting about Diagon Alley for the whole month until they finally went. It was Harry’s birthday, and they spent it picking out books and fantasizing about brooms and getting their supplies, Harry finding a beautiful Albanian Python at the pet shop that he sweet-talked into coming with him to school, Draco talking his parents into the Puffskein that had taken to hiding in his pocket as he looked at them.

Then came time to get their wands.

Draco went first, Harry looking at the wands around them, and he watched the connection made as soon as Draco picked up his wand. It was a perfect match for him, bonding easily, Hawthorn and Unicorn hair, 10”. “Reasonably pliant,” Ollivander called it. Harry, however, noticed the interesting phenomena of Draco's magical core changing ever so slightly when he found the right wand. It had been more sporadic before, and now smoothed out to a bright glow, already the size of his mother's, and the light blue that it had been seemed to be tainted with flickers of green when he waved the wand for the first time. He watched in awe, wondering if that was what happened every time someone found their wand. It wasn't like there was anyone he could ask about it, though.

Harry had noticed a magical buzz in the back of his mind, and followed it as that got squared away. He ran into a wall at the edge of it, however, and was brought out of his musings by the odd little wand maker, Ollivander, asking him to hold out his wand arm for measurements. He complied and waited a short while for the man to bring him wands to test. He looked at each and shook his head with a frown. “No, none of these are right. Their magic isn't strong enough.” He commented, testing each anyway. This seemed to get the wand smith's attention.

“You can tell by looking at them, can't you? Another Black magic sensitive?” This seemed to please Ollivander, and he went bustling about behind his his counter for a moment more before they heard him mumble to himself, “I wonder…” The man returned with a box in hand that caught Harry's attention immediately, and the buzzing in his head seemed to get rather excited about it as well. “Holly and Phoenix feather, 11 inches. Nice and supple, Mr. Potter.” He offered the boy the wand, watching him closely, and everyone could see the moment it chose him, wind rustling through the store and a warm rush flowing through him from his hand. “Curious. Very curious.” Ollivander commented, starting a small conversation with Lucius about the wand, but Harry himself could no longer hear anything of the sort.

•And to think I almost killed you, boy.• A voice in his head spoke, and Harry recognized it as being from the origin of the buzzing noise, replacing it, it seemed.

•And why would me getting my wand make me any less likely to be killed?• Harry questioned, possibly foolishly. Most people would think arguing with voices in your head was a sign of being mental, but Harry thought a sign of being mental was to not argue with them when they spoke. Not that they had before now, in that way at least, but Harry still thought about it now. His thoughts were interrupted by a deep chuckle in his mind that sent chills through him worse than any strong cold wind could.

•If you must know. We have quite the bond, it would seem. You being a part of my soul now, as well as speaking Parseltongue, and now we have wands that share a core bond. Also, your familiar is of the same species as mine is. Mine is just magical, while yours is not. How interesting.• The voice did appear to genuinely find it so, and Harry felt a bit of confusion that he was not entirely sure was his own. •Maybe that prophesy my true self spoke of was not as rubbish as he seemed to believe it to be. He is a tad mad, having been wandering around without a body for so long.•

Ah, now it clicked. The soul that Voldemort had been speaking of. But he hadn't been prepared for it to speak to him, frowning and coming his head to the side, much to the confusion of Draco, who was trying to get his attention now. “Harry, come on, it's time to go.” The blonde said, laying a hand on his shoulder, and that brought Harry out of his mind and back to the world with a smile.

“Can we go to Fortescue's, Mother?” Harry turned to see her smiling at the two of them, and she sighed proudly.

“Another day, darlings, we still have a month before you go to Hogwarts, but we need to get you home so we can check on the preparation of the party tonight.” She lead them out after Lucius had paid Ollivander for both wands, and stepped back to walk next to him when they started to chatter happily about Hogwarts. “I don't think I've ever seen two children happier.” She remarked to her husband, slipping a hand through his arm.

And they certainly were. They would even get to remain that happy for some time to come, though they didn't know of the hardships ahead of them. For then, they would laugh and sing silly songs to each other around the house and play games with their friends, inventing the rules as it suited them. And then it was September 1st, and their lives would be changing forever.