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batsutousaiTitle: Stand Against the Moon
Fandom: Harry Potter
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Harry Potter/Lord Voldemort
Warnings: Violence, character death, Dark!Harry, werewolf!Harry, AU, ending of questionable happiness, underage sexual relationship (depending on the way you tilt your head)
Summary: Cursed against his will, Harry made the best of his life until he found himself, again, wandering in Death's realm. When Death offers him a second chance, a chance to right the wrongs he'd been blind to for too long, he can't possibly refuse.
A/N: I may have, just possibly, sat here and been a bit gleeful about all the tears Harry's stories won out of you people. Little bit. XD
The ageing ritual from a few chapters ago makes its reappearance in this chapter. I have a list of how old Harry looks each month, so if at any time someone is curious, I can tell you. (Amusingly – to me – Harry will look eighteen when he turns eleven, which hadn't originally been my intention, but it worked out well.)
Chapter Nine – Age of Mystery
-0-
"An excellent show last week, Sol," Riddle said as he slid onto the stool next to Harry. "The last line was a particularly nice touch."
Harry raised an eyebrow at that, then snorted at himself. "I don't know why I'm surprised that you got a play-by-play. Or did you manage to sneak in?"
"I may have borrowed some hair from one of your opponents," Riddle admitted with a flash of teeth and Harry laughed. "Truly. Even with the work of my people and Dumbledore, you were still looking at a majority pass, with those who might have tipped the balance leaning towards abstaining."
Harry shook his head. "I suppose there's got to be some perks to losing your parents to a madman and the entire world knowing about it."
Riddle stared at him for a moment, looking like he wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, before his face twisted with a snarl and he spat out, "If you're expecting an apology, Pot–"
"Oh, please," Harry complained. "If I expected an apology from you, do you honestly think we'd be here right now? You were taking out a threat, protecting yourself." He snorted and looked away. "I'd have done the same." Was currently doing the same thing, looking to completely devastate the magical humans without thought for who they were, what crimes they may or may not have committed against his people.
Riddle hissed something about ridiculous, impossible children, then said in English, "Rumour tells I missed quite the impressive celebratory party."
"You did," Harry promised. "I'm pretty sure we took over the entire alley, and a few people might have made a wrong turn onto Diagon."
Riddle snorted. "Rumour also has it that aurors had to be called."
"Well, there was absolutely an auror there, but if the ladies and gents in red were called, it was after I left."
"Ah, yes, I suppose even boy lords have to keep to a bedtime."
Harry just laughed.
Harry woke on his birthday with a hopeful grin. He'd received his parents' rings over the course of his last two birthdays, and he couldn't even begin to guess what Sirius intended for him this year.
Breakfast involved far more chocolate than was probably wise, but Kreacher always made him sweets for his birthday, as it was – both he and Sirius swore – a Black family tradition that birthday breakfasts had to be so sweet that everyone left with at least two cavities. (Suspiciously, neither Remus nor Sirius' birthdays were marked in this manner, but Harry enjoyed the treat too much to complain, which had very likely been the intention.)
Just as they were finishing up, Remus let out an uncertain, "Harry?"
Harry glanced up, curious. "Remus?"
Remus was still for a moment, then he held the paper across the table, opened to the centre page, which was a bit sparse, as though they had struggled to fill it. When he didn't say anything further, Harry took the Prophet and looked it over. The article in question wasn't hard to spot, as it took up a large part of the page, despite being brief.
'Ministry Executioner Found Dead
'Walden Macnair, the Executioner for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, was found dead this morning on the steps of the Daily Prophet building. Aurors who reported to the scene declared his cause of death to have been the Killing Curse. The only lead to his murderer is a symbol cut into his left arm, of a line bisecting a triangle with a circle inside. A symbol which, reportedly, was used by the Dark Lord Grindelwald during his rise.
'The Ministry requests that anyone with any knowledge pertaining to this murder please send an owl to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at their earliest convenience.'
Harry stared down at the paper, emotions torn in a thousand different directions, because he was confused about the death, but so very glad for it, even as a part of him was upset that it hadn't been him to strike the final blow on the non-human murderer.
Still, it had clearly been meant for him, left at the Daily Prophet so it would make it into the paper in time for the morning edition on his birthday. Someone who knew how much he hated Macnair and wanted to send him birthday wishes? He'd have suspected one of his people, but none of them knew he possessed the Deathly Hallows, and he wasn't sure any of them would really relate Death calling him 'Master' to that symbol, not after Grindelwald used it for so long.
Another culprit occurred to Harry, then, and he mentally called, 'Death?'
There was long silence, wherein Sirius asked, "Right, what's going on?"
"Walden Macnair's dead," Remus reported and they both turned to Harry with curious eyes.
Harry shook his head. "I didn't do it, but I wouldn't be surprised if his death was meant as a gift for me."
"It might be meant for Voldemort," Remus pointed out. "I mean, the symbol is on his ring."
"It wasn't my doing, Master," Death finally responded. "For the culprit, you are better served looking closer to Macnair himself. But, yes, he was meant as a sort of gift, in as much as the gifter would ever admit to such intention."
Harry couldn't keep his eyes from widening, staring down at the article with disbelief. 'Tom?' he asked.
"Indeed, Master. Though I expect he will deny it if ever you bring it up to him."
Harry resisted the urge to snort, because, yeah, he rather expected that getting a confession from Riddle that he'd killed one of his own men for Harry was never going to happen. 'I'll have to come up with some unnecessarily subtle way of thanking him, then,' he remarked and Death chuckled in his mind. 'Thank you, Death. You are, as ever, my most invaluable friend.'
"Happy birthday, Master," Death replied.
Harry stood, aware of Sirius and Remus' continued conversation only because it had abruptly ended. He raised an eyebrow at them, then asked, "We were going to Godric's Hollow, right?"
"Oh, yeah, right." Sirius shoved to his feet, Remus a half-beat behind, and the table magically cleared as they collected together to apparate to the graveyard.
"I swear you've aged another year every time I see you," Riddle remarked as he slid into his stool at Harry's side.
Harry glanced down at himself. "You're exaggerating. The ritual said a year every four months."
Riddle snorted. "How old does that make you now?"
Harry grinned at him. "Come now, Voldemort, surely your maths skills aren't that poor. I'm eight."
Riddle closed his eyes and rubbed at them. "Sol."
Harry chuckled. "About nine, I expect. I'm not really keeping track."
Riddle shook his head and leant up to reach over the back of the bar for the stock of firewhiskey they both knew Richard had started leaving there for when the Dark Lord started reaching the end of his rope with Harry's sense of humour. "And your guardians? They don't care?"
"They haven't noticed, honestly," Harry admitted with a shrug. "I mean, they see me every day, so even though you think the change is obvious, they haven't really caught on."
Riddle shot him a knowing smile. "They have no idea you went looking for rituals to grow up faster, do they?"
"First, I didn't go looking, I came across it by chance when the book fell into my lap–" Riddle snorted "–second, Sirius would flip if he ever found out what the ritual entailed, and I am not putting up with Remus' disappointed stare more than I have to. I had to put up with that when I was laid up in bed after making sure my werefolk knew better than to start a war over that legislation, and I am not–"
"Your werewolf gave you a disappointed stare for handling both of your people?" Riddle interrupted, disbelieving.
Harry sighed. "Well, no. He was disapproving because I told them that I'd had to travel via the Realm of Death and when they started bitching about how it had left me exhausted, I pointed out that doing the same amount of apparation in the same amount of time would have killed me. Really, I just think the idea of me having anything to do with Death freaks them out."
"Normal people run the other way from Death," Riddle agreed drily.
Harry hummed a vague agreement and carefully pulled out Death's book. "So I suppose you don't want to read this?"
Riddle's expression lit up and he reached for the book. He paused just shy of touching it and turned suspicious eyes on Harry. "What's the catch?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "You can only read it here – I'm not chancing you forgetting to return it or Lucius stealing it – but that's it. Consider it a thank you."
"For what?"
"Whatever it is my favourite source thinks I owe you thanks for," Harry replied with a bright smile.
Riddle sneered, but carefully took the book. "Your favourite source needs to stop spying on me."
"I'm pretty sure most of his information comes from your victims, not because he's some sort of really creepy stalker."
Riddle pointedly opened Death's book and refused to respond to Harry again until he left, and even then it was only a hurried, "Here's your book back," before he was gone.
Harry wasn't bothered. Honestly, he'd rather expected that.
On the twenty-second of September, breakfast was interrupted by an incoming floo. Remus was the closest to the receiving room door, so he got up and checked. "Norman!" he called just before Harry caught the whiff of flowers that he associated with Norman White, the florist who lived in one of the London way houses.
"Alpha?" Norman called, sounding like he was about five seconds from a full-on panic attack.
Harry hurried around the table and brushed past Remus into the receiving room, where he found Norman collapsed on the floor in front of the fireplace, looking strained. He knelt in front of the man, gently cupping his face. "Shh. I'm right here, Norman. You're safe."
Norman leant forward and pressed his forehead against Harry's chest, shoulders shaking and fingers pressing tightly enough against Harry's trousers that he half-expected they would rip.
Kreacher appeared next to them, looking honestly apologetic when Norman jerked in surprise. "Calming potion, Master Lord," he offered, holding out a vial to Harry.
"Thank you, Kreacher," Harry murmured as he took the potion and pushed Norman upright so he could take it. "Perhaps some tea in the living room? I expect that will be more comfortable than the receiving room floor."
"Sorry, Alpha," Norman whispered as Harry helped him to his feet.
"I'm not angry with you, Norman," Harry insisted. "I'm a little concerned, but not angry."
Harry settled Norman on the couch and sat down next to him while Remus sat in his reading chair. Sirius stood in the doorway, clearly feeling out of place, but it was still a little too early for him to head in to the Ministry for his shift. (Anyway, if they needed the help of a human or for him to look something up at the Ministry, better he wait to find out what was going on.)
"When I got in this morning," Norman began as Harry poured out the tea Kreacher had brought, "there were three owls waiting for me."
"Magical customers?" Remus murmured as Sirius moved forward to accept the tea Harry held out for him. "You're a muggle business."
Norman shook his head. "I'm in the registry, and I did tell Alpha that he could share my story at the International Confederation hearing, so I sort of half expected to get an owl or two at one point. But never three all at once. And they're deliveries at Hogwarts, Alpha!" he added, turning wide eyes on Harry. "I can't go to Hogwarts! I'm a muggle! And the full moon is in three days."
Harry reached out and cupped his hands around Norman's, steadying them around his tea cup. "Being a werewolf negates the magic that keeps you from seeing Hogwarts, as there is magic in your veins for the change," he murmured, keeping his voice gentle. "As for the moon, I doubt the headmaster will complain, but Sirius can send him an owl with the problem and ask for explicit permission for you to go. Remus and I will accompany you, so you know there are two others with you who can keep things under control."
Sirius was already penning the requested message by the time Harry had fallen silent, and Norman was looking far better at the promise of accompaniment.
"Have you finished the bouquets yet?" Remus requested.
Norman shook his head. "No, I couldn't. I–I ran for home as soon as I saw and came here. I couldn't–"
Harry shook his head. "Still not angry," he promised and Norman managed a smile, though it was a little strained. "There we go. Drink your tea, then we can go over to the shop and you can make up the arrangements." He frowned, a thought occurring to him. "Will floo travel damage them?"
"Almost certainly," Norman admitted with a grimace.
Harry nodded and looked towards Sirius. "Ask Dumbledore if he could either provide carriages at the gate or Fawkes, if he's capable of teleporting with three people without damaging the flower arrangements they're carrying, please."
Sirius nodded his understanding. He finished writing and shot a spell to dry the ink, then started to roll it up as he said, "I told him the basics and asked if he could address any returns to Remus. Suggested lunch would work, but if he'd rather avoid the chance of disruption in the middle of the day, the visit can probably wait until dinner. Either way, don't be surprised if you all end up eating in the Great Hall."
"All of us?" Norman whispered, motioning between himself and Remus.
Remus smiled. "I attended Hogwarts while I was a werewolf. Albus truly doesn't care."
"He tries," Harry insisted. "He tries to give everyone a chance, but he doesn't do anything for anyone outside of his direct sphere of influence. He's a good man, but he doesn't go the extra mile that we all-too-often need him to. It is, perhaps, his second greatest failing."
"What's his greatest, then?" Sirius asked as he handed the letter down to Pinky to take to Hogwarts, since an owl would take too long.
"He puts far too much trust in the goodness he believes everyone has."
Sirius snorted. "I can't see Dumbledore ever believing in Voldemort's 'goodness'."
Harry smiled. "And that, Sirius, was his third greatest failing," he commented as he stood. "Because when he was faced with an orphan who just wanted someone to tell him he was special, he refused. If you ever want to know why Voldemort picked the path he has, you need look no further than the man who introduced him to the magical world."
"The Dark Lord is muggleborn?" Norman breathed, eyes wide.
Sirius laughed a bit madly at that.
Harry kicked his shin. "No," he told Norman, "but he was muggle-raised. Forgive me, but I need to get dressed into something a little less lazy if we're to be paying Hogwarts a visit."
"As do I," Remus realised. "Norman, drink your tea. Padfoot, don't be late."
Harry laughed as he started up to his room, Sirius' cursing and the chuckles of the other two werewolves filling the air behind him.
Dumbledore did not, in fact, see any issue with them visiting to deliver the flowers. He did request that they come for dinner, rather than lunch, and that Remus bring them early enough to take a carriage up to the school.
"What are those?" Norman asked as they found the thestral-drawn carriage awaiting them.
"Thestrals," Remus replied, the tone of his voice making it clear that he didn't care for the winged horses. When Harry walked right up to them with a fond smile, he snapped, "Harry!"
Harry rolled his eyes at the other and gently set the flowers he'd been carrying on the ground next to him, then stepped between the two thestrals so he could pet them both. "Hello, lovelies," he murmured to them and they both nudged against his hands hopefully. "Oh, Hagrid spoils you something terrible, doesn't he?" he asked with a laugh before obediently summoning a couple of fish from the Black Lake and holding them out.
Norman let out a quiet laugh and murmured, "You really can't blame him, Remus; they're non-humans too, you know."
Remus sighed. "I know," he murmured back before raising his voice to call, "Harry, just...don't let anyone know you can see them, for my peace of mind."
Harry gave the two thestrals an 'as if I didn't already know that' look and they both let out amused wickers. "I'll be careful, Remus. Promise," he called back before pressing a quick kiss to the nose of each of the winged horses and gathered his arrangement back up to join the other two in the carriage.
Dumbledore met them at the front doors, twinkling madly at Remus' amused prodding while Norman stared at the castle in awe and Harry tried to mimic him. Given, it wasn't his first visit to the school, but it was his first time seeing the outside. Technically. So far as Dumbledore or any other human on staff knew.
"Welcome to Hogwarts, gentlemen," Dumbledore offered as they finally reached him. "I'm Albus Dumbledore," he offered to Norman.
"Uh, Norman White, sir. Thanks for letting me come, even though...well... you know."
"Indeed I do," Dumbledore agreed with a friendly smile. "I'm certain you know when something becomes too much, and Remus, I am sure, will be willing to show you to one of his many hiding places for a bit of quiet, should it become necessary. For now, do you have the names of the students you're bringing the flowers for?"
Norman's eyes went wide and he started patting his pockets with his free hand, searching for the paper he'd written out.
"Opal Farley of Ravenclaw, Amaryllis Tucker of Slytherin, and Esmond Shacklebolt of Gryffindor," Harry reported. "I've got Miss Tucker's, Moon– erm, Remus has got Mr Shacklebolt's, and Norman's got Miss Farley's flowers." Then he flashed around a bright grin, like a kid looking for approval.
Remus chuckled and ruffled his hair fondly. "Of course you'd remember all that."
"Most excellent recall, Harry," Dumbledore praised as he motioned for them to enter the school with him. "I do hope none of you mind, by the way, but I had the house-elves provide place settings for you at the Head Table. It just seemed rude to invite you to visit during dinner and then not provide a Hogwarts meal. Especially," he added with a twinkle, "as this will be a first for two of you."
"Sirius and I suspected you might have that in mind," Remus admitted.
Dumbledore winked, then led the way into the Great Hall, where the students and staff were all seated, waiting for his arrival. Voices died off as everyone noticed the strangers following the headmaster. Harry shifted closer to Norman when he noticed how tightly the werewolf was clutching the vase he was carrying, trying to make it seem like he was the one seeking comfort, rather than the one providing it.
At the head of the room, Dumbledore turned to address the student body. "Mr White here," he said, motioning towards where Norman was standing between Harry and Remus, "owns a flower shop in London and today received orders for three arrangements to be delivered to students here at Hogwarts. Here to assist him in ensuring the flowers make it to their recipients safely are Messrs Lupin and Potter."
Dumbledore had to pause for a moment as the Hall broke out in whispers, hundreds of eyes coming to rest upon Harry. He, for his part, put on a wide-eyed stare for a moment, then stuck his tongue out at all of them, earning a wave of laughter.
"Yes, yes," Dumbledore finally called, "we're all quite excited about the flowers, I know." A few people laughed. "If I could please have Miss Opal Farley, Miss Tucker, and Mr Shacklebolt all stand?" Dumbledore asked the room. As the three students stood, Dumbledore leant towards his guests and said, "Mr White, Miss Farley is at this table right here; Harry, Miss Tucker is that young lady standing against the wall." He didn't bother directing Remus, as he knew which table was Gryffindor.
Harry carefully carried his arrangement to the dark-skinned Slytherin awaiting him. She looked to be in Charlie's year, her dark eyes not quite unfriendly, but it was clear she was wary of him. "Hi!" he chirped and grinned when her mouth twitched like she was trying to hide a smile. "These are from your mum, Norman said. They're amaryllis, right? Like your name?"
"That's right," the girl agreed.
Harry held the flowers up to her. "They're really pretty. Your mum picked a really good name for you," he told her, then left among the stifled amusement of the Slytherin House. He glanced back as he reached the Head Table again, Remus motioning him towards the seats set aside for them, and saw Amaryllis smack the boy she'd been sitting next to, who was making a kissy face. Harry rolled his eyes at the immaturity of teenagers.
Just as he was getting ready to sit, Bill stepped up to the Head Table, head ducked beneath McGonagall's disapproving stare. "Sorry, Professors. Remus, is it okay if Harry sits with us over at Gryffindor? I think he'd be a bit more comfortable with people closer to his own age, you know?"
Harry looked first to Norman, who gave a subtle nod – he'd be fine with just Remus for a while – then Remus, who smiled and shook his head. "Go on then, pup."
Harry grinned and very improperly slid down and crawled under the table, rather than walking around. He bore Bill ruffling his hair with fond familiarity, then let his favourite of the Weasley children lead him over to his group of friends at the Gryffindor table. A plate helpfully appeared for him as everyone made room for him, and he spent his first Hogwarts dinner surrounded by the laughter of seventh year Gryffindors.
Norman got two more orders to be delivered to Hogwarts in October, both of which Harry and Remus went with him for, if only for his nerves. Both times, Harry again sat at the Gryffindor table with Bill and his seventh year friends, enjoying the time spent with his friend.
On Halloween, he and Sirius both received similar fancy letters. They traded curious looks, then ripped them open. Harry raised his eyebrows to find the envelope contained an invitation to the Malfoy Yule Ball. When he saw the date, though, his eyes narrowed. "I see," he murmured.
"Someone wants to make sure you're not a werewolf," Sirius commented, clearly having seen that the date for the Ball was for the twenty-third, the December full moon. "Fudge, I'd guess."
"Or nervous International Confederation members who Lucius is making friendly with on Voldemort's orders," Harry suggested before dropping the invitation next to his plate so he could return his attention to his food. "It hardly matters where the request is really coming from; we have to attend to keep from arousing suspicion. I knew it would happen eventually."
"I suppose we all did," Sirius admitted tiredly as he followed Harry's lead in refocussing on his food. "All the same, I'd appreciate knowing who is the most nervous about you."
"I'll ask Voldemort next week," Harry promised with a shrug.
It turned out it had been members of the International Confederation of Wizards who had asked that Lucius ensure Harry attend the Ball, though Fudge had certainly approved when it was mentioned to him. When Riddle asked if it would be a problem, Harry shrugged and admitted, "We've already sent back our acceptance." Which seemed to be enough for the Dark Lord, for he returned to devouring Death's book with a distracted nod.
November saw another flower delivery to Hogwarts and three to Hogsmeade. Harry didn't bother following along to Hogsmeade, but he'd practically run for his room to change when they'd got the owl about Norman needing to go to Hogwarts again, much to the amusement of his guardians.
December, against all odds, was quiet on the magical front for flower orders. When Harry had mentioned it to Norman during the new moon – sitting at his table instead of at the bar because Carmilla was dealing with some minor vampire issues that she'd declared herself better served for, and Riddle had already warned he wouldn't be there – the florist had explained, "December tends to be really quiet until the days right before Christmas, usually, when someone realises they didn't get something – or the order fell through for some reason – for their significant other or female relative." He snorted. "I use the quiet to stock up on general materials and put in orders with some seasonal suppliers for flowers in preparation for the Christmas rush." He looked uncertain for a moment, then offered, "You're welcome to come by and assist, if you wish, Alpha."
Harry considered that for a moment, then shrugged. "I might just take you up on that. Assuming I don't end up getting called down to Somalia again because some werelion decided to fuck with the local werehyena clan and started a minor turf war," he finished, growling at the memory of fixing that clusterfuck the week of Christmas last year.
Norman gave a nervous laugh and pushed Harry's plate of biscuits closer to him, something which earned the laughter of their tablemates and a couple people nearby who had turned to see why Harry had been growling.
"You could just always open one of your doorways under the lot," a vampire the next table over suggested.
"Don't think it didn't occur to me," Harry muttered around a biscuit.
A few people shuddered and talk was turned, rather firmly, to plans for the holidays.
When Carmilla finally got in close to midnight, Harry joined her at the bar, asking if there was anything he needed to know about whatever had called her away. There wasn't, really, but she told him anyway, because she always did. It was something Harry appreciated about her.
The invitation to the Malfoys' Yule Ball asked that they arrive at seven, so Sirius, naturally, got them there at seven-thirty. They'd both dressed as befitting their social standings – though Sirius had originally planned to wear robes that were of questionable acceptability – Sirius in bright red, Harry in dark green. Sirius hadn't bothered doing anything special with his chin-length hair, but Harry – whose hair had been growing at an alarming rate due to the ritual and was currently brushing his shoulders – had pulled his back in a low ponytail, tired of it getting in his eyes all the time. He'd considered cutting it short, but it was much more manageable at this length, as much as it irritated him.
Narcissa had come to meet them in the entrance hall with a tight smile and a, "Cousin Sirius, Mr Potter."
"Cousin Cissy," Sirius replied with a nasty sort of grin.
Harry very purposefully stepped on Sirius' foot, then offered Narcissa's surprised look with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about my godfather, Mrs Malfoy. I'm afraid Azkaban rather ruined him for polite company."
Narcissa's mouth twitched and she quickly turned away. "This way to the ballroom, gentlemen," she ordered before leading the way through the manor to the large room which had been lit up and was filled with witches and wizards chatting or dancing to the music played by the quartet in the corner near the opened balcony doors.
As they passed into the ballroom, a slick feeling passed over them, like being violated by magic. Harry scowled, but it was Sirius who commented, "Well, that was rude."
Narcissa turned to them with a falsely apologetic look. "My apologies. It was added at the behest of certain dignitaries who have faced assassination attempts by people disguised through the use of polyjuice or transfiguration."
"While possible," Sirius returned, eyes narrowed, "I think we both know it was to make sure I hadn't dressed some other kid up as Harry just to prove he's not been bitten."
"Oh, let it, Sirius," Harry said with a roll of his eyes. "No use crying over spilt milk and all that. Clearly, we're not hiding anything, and I'm clearly human. Are we now free to torment– Ah, apologies, mingle with your guests?"
Narcissa's lips thinned. "I warned Lucius this would happen," she muttered before turning away and fading easily into the crowd.
Sirius sighed and tugged lightly on Harry's hair. "I feel like I should be more indignant," he admitted.
"But we'd already assumed their reasoning for the invitation," Harry finished with a shrug. "At any rate, it should keep anyone from trying to call me out on the matter for a few more months, at the least."
"With any luck," Sirius agreed before his expression twisted with something that could almost be called disgust before a carefully crafted blankness over-took it. "What is he doing here?"
Harry moved up onto his toes, steadying himself with Sirius' shoulder, and followed his godfather's gaze to a familiar black-haired man. "Oh?" he murmured, curious in spite of himself. "Well, he's taking a chance. Want to say hello?"
Sirius let out a discontent noise. "Not particularly," he admitted, but still walked with Harry to where Riddle was chatting amicably with another man in fluent French. Harry understood the discussion – one about a vineyard the Frenchman was particularly fond of – but Sirius wore a discontent expression that suggested he didn't know enough of the language to even pretend to follow it.
Riddle noticed them before Sirius lost his patience, thankfully, and smoothly apologised to the Frenchman before turning to them. "Mr Potter. Mr Black."
Harry smiled at him. "Feeling daring today– Hm. What name are you using tonight?"
Riddle grimaced. "Thomas Gaunt."
Harry raised an eyebrow at that. "You realise you're just giving me permission to call you Tom, right?"
"When has my permission ever stopped you, Potter?" Riddle returned, a note of resignation to the words.
Harry flashed him a smile that would have been toothy, were he not attempting to appear wholly human. "True enough."
"Why are you here?" Sirius finally demanded, the words stiff.
Riddle stared at him for a moment, as though debating if he should take offence to that or not, then glanced down at Harry's wide-eyed curious expression. Riddle's lips twitched and he drily explained, "The Soviet representative wasn't comfortable attending and asked if I would go in his place. Lucius promised that no one should be in attendance that might recognise me and report back to Dumbledore, so I agreed."
Harry blinked, admittedly impressed. "You're playing further abroad than I had expected," he admitted.
Riddle snorted. "I have to surprise you in some way, Potter."
"Dear Merlin, I need either a drink or an explosion to deal with this," Sirius muttered, looking around.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Do try not to blow anything up until Lucius looks like he needs an excuse to start kicking people out, please," he requested. "And recall that you're supposed to at least pretend to be representing the British Ministry of Magic, Auror Black."
Sirius snorted and shot him a knowing look. "Only if you at least pretend to be eight, pup."
Harry shoved a finger into Sirius' side. "Get out of my hair. Irritate Lucius for bowing to popular opinion and making you attend this thing just because the humans got nervous about their precious Boy Who Lived spending so much time around werewolves."
"They really should be more concerned about the fact that you're turning into a dictator," Sirius agreed with one last tug on Harry's hair before he left them for the drinks table.
Harry turned to Riddle again. "I hope you don't mind as I pretend like I actually know you well enough that Sirius doesn't mind pissing off and leaving me with you."
Riddle snorted. "If nothing else, Lucius' confusion will be worth putting up with you. I expect you should be interested in meeting some of those allies I've made abroad in the past months?"
"If it's not too much of a difficulty."
Riddle snorted again and motioned for Harry to follow him through the crowd. "The only difficulty, Potter, will be in remembering what name to call you."
"And not turning into a homicidal maniac every time I call you Tom," Harry added cheerfully.
Riddle twitched and shot him a disgusted look before stopping to introduce Harry to the Italian ICW representative.
All things considered, it was probably for the best that Sirius had left them, because Harry and Riddle spent a good two hours making the rounds. Riddle was unsurprisingly charming, his smile and manner showing no sign of being a false mask. Harry, for his part, played the unusually intelligent eight-year-old that he always acted in public, pretending confusion over both politics and most languages, though he did mangle some French and act proud that he'd managed that much.
"I'm actually a little impressed with how many languages you speak," Harry admitted during a break to obtain drinks, Riddle being very obvious about making sure Harry's was non-alcoholic, given their audience.
Riddle narrowed his eyes. "Likewise," he allowed after a brief silence. When Harry raised an eyebrow, he commented, "I think I know you well enough, by now, to know when you're pretending not to understand something." His mouth twisted into a brief scowl before smoothing out entirely. "Besides, you cannot possibly manage the number of people you do with only English."
Harry chuckled and took a quick sip of his bubbly. "True enough." He glanced out over the ballroom, eyes alighting on those he knew almost against his will. "Death speaks all languages," he murmured.
Riddle jerked, eyes flashing red for a beat. "All languages, Potter?" he hissed.
Harry smiled at him. :All languages, Tom,: he agreed in Parseltongue.
:I will kill you, Potter,: Riddle spat.
Harry laughed and reached up to pat Riddle's cheek. "You say some of the sweetest things to me."
Lucius was suddenly next to them, expression a mix of panic and disconcertion. "Mr Potter," he said stiffly, "would you please escort your godfather home before he does something to land himself back into Azkaban?"
Harry snorted. "More likely, he'll do something that'll make someone else respond in such a way to land them in Azkaban, but I do agree that it might be time to drag him home," he decided before flashing Lucius a bright smile. "Thank you so much for the invitation, Mr Malfoy!" He looked at Riddle, smile widening at his scowl. "Bye, Tom! Have a good birthday!" Which just made Riddle look even more murderous.
Then he hurried off towards where he'd last seen his godfather and just barely stopped what could have turned into an international incident by leading the man away from where the Iran, Iraq, and Saudi Arabian representatives were debating the current muggle conflict in fast-paced Arabic.
"Lucius is kicking us out," Harry told Sirius as he herded him towards the exit.
"Took him long enough," Sirius muttered.
Harry snorted and waited until Sirius had apparated them home before admitting, "I'm pretty sure he was trying to keep Voldemort from killing me because I'd patted his cheek."
Sirius burst out laughing and made a show of wiping at his eyes. "Merlin, pup. And I thought I'd be the one to drive Lucius to drinking tonight."
Harry grinned. "You were a very close second, I'm sure," he promised before starting upstairs. "Now, I'm going to go change, then check on my pack," he announced, meaning the groups in the way houses; he visited with all of them every full moon, his presence helping to calm them down and get some sleep so they were at least a little functional the next day. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Yeah, okay. Bite Moony for me or something."
Harry rolled his eyes, resigned to his godfather's sense of humour, and set about his Alpha duties.
At the beginning of May, a group of goblins approached Harry. He raised his eyebrows at them, turning to give them his attention, because other than the first time they'd introduced themselves, the goblins didn't approach him for anything. Both Riddle, having been around long enough to know this, and Carmilla, turned to look as well, looking as bemused as Harry felt. "Yes, Ragnok?" he asked of the goblin at the head of the group, who he remembered from the only time he'd met the top echelon of the British Branch of Gringotts.
Ragnok's eyebrows raised. "Alpha Lord, what do you know of Gringotts' hiring practices in terms of humans?"
Harry blinked. "Ah," he breathed, figuring out what this was about. "So far as I'm aware, you send them abroad to another bank or an excavation site, depending on their preferred speciality, in an effort to isolate them from anything familiar and foster their attachment to the goblin nation."
:Why does this not surprise me?: Riddle hissed. Since discovering Harry understood Parseltongue, he'd been using the language to make disparaging comments about matters brought to Harry that he normally would never have dared voice. Harry half hoped a naga or other serpentine non-human would show up so Riddle would shut up, even as he was generally amused by the Dark Lord's comments (Riddle had clearly figured out where Harry's limits were and treaded around the edges of them without any apparent care).
Ragnok inclined his head and pulled out a scroll with handwriting on it which Harry recognised. "Essentially correct. I find myself, however, currently at a loss for what to do about this applicant, who cites you as a reason for remaining in Britain."
"Did he actually use my title?" Harry wondered, because while the goblins certainly knew who he was, he hardly expected them to care if some human mentioned Harry Potter as a reason for remaining close to home, not given his fame.
Ragnok lifted the scroll and pointed to where Bill had clearly written 'Alpha Lord Harry Potter' on the parchment.
Harry chuckled. "Clever, Bill," he murmured as he rubbed at his chin. "I admit, I find myself with a conundrum all my own, for while Bill certainly knows my title, he is not fully comprehending of the meaning behind it." He considered that for a moment, weighing the likelihood of Bill finding out that Harry was looking to crush humanity while he was in Britain, against him finding out abroad.
He didn't suppose it really mattered where he was stationed, the matter would come to light in time. At least if he was in Britain, Harry would be easily accessible, rather than forcing Bill to stew while waiting for a response from Harry via owl post. "I believe it's to my preference that he remain in Britain, if only for ease of damage control, should such be necessary. You can certainly request he move closer to London, to separate him from his family. Very likely, he'll appreciate the additional freedoms, though I expect Molly will have something to say about it."
"We shall look into such arrangements, then, Alpha Lord."
Harry smiled and inclined his head. "Thank you for your consideration, Ragnok."
Ragnok flashed him a mean smile. "So long as you continue to treat fairly with us, we will do so, Alpha Lord," he promised before walking towards the door of the pub, the other goblins following him.
"You put up with so much more disrespect than you should have to," Riddle commented, expression twisted with disgust.
Harry rolled his eyes. "They have reason for their attitude and, honestly, I appreciate that they're willing to play as polite as they do; I made it clear during our first meeting that I don't require deference, just a lack of hostility."
"Polite," Riddle repeated disbelievingly.
Harry laughed. "You know, it's almost cute how you keep expecting human interactions among non-humans."
"He can't help himself," Carmilla remarked as she filed one of her nails to a deadly-sharp point. "He's simply too human."
Riddle hissed some choice remarks at her and Harry levelled a disapproving look at him. "If you can't say it in English, you shouldn't be saying it in any other language."
Riddle eyed Carmilla's sharpened nails and then proceeded to busy himself with his plate of biscuits.
Harry just sighed and wondered, of the two of them, who was really the child.
Stand Against the Moon Chapters:
Prologue - Like a Ghost in My Town
1 - Procuring Freedom | 2 - Exeunt From Hell, Stage Left | 3 - Never Quite Perfect
4 - Drop the Shades | 5 - The Little Victories | 6 - Uneasy Alliance
7 - Determining Boundaries | 8 - International Acclaim |
10 - Absence | 11 - Eye of the Storm | 12 - No Regrets
Nose to the Wind Chapters:
01 || 02 || 03 || 04 || 05 || 06 || 07 || 08 || 09 || 10
11 || 12 || 13 || 14 || 15 || 16 || 17 || 18 || 19 || 20
21 || 22 || 23 || 24 || 25 || 26 || 27
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