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batsutousaiTitle: Xerosis
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
batsutousai
Beta:tsuki_no_suzu & magickmaker17
Rating: T
Pairings: Voldemort/Harry (post-Harry/Ginny)
Warnings: SLASH, AU, character death, super!Harry, Dark!Harry
Summary: Harry's world ends at the hands of those he'd once fought to save. An adult-Harry goes back to his younger self fic. Super!Harry
Disclaim Her: The spells you don't recognise that Harry uses in this chapter are ones I made up. They were created for my Abandon re-write, but since I was stuck without my Latin dictionary and needed a spell, I just stole them from those notes. Yes, you can use them yourself, but credit where credit is due. And all that.
A/N: So, everyone wanted to know what Harry's boggart was. Erm, you know, I never really thought about it all that much, which is why it wasn't in there. Bit of a throw-up between the end of the world and the mundane who shot him. (Not that he fears the mundane, specifically, but he fears failure, and both of those represent that. The end of the world is pretty obvious, but the mundane represents Harry's failure to survive.)
-0-0-0-
Fear Falls Like Rain
-0-0-0-
"I have just heard the most delicious rumour about next year," Voldemort said as soon as he noticed Xerosis in the corner of his small meeting room.
"The TriWizard Tournament, perchance?" Xerosis replied, stepping smoothly over to the second chair the Dark Lord had created next to his own after their run-in with Death.
"You take a great deal of fun out of my life," Voldemort decided.
Xerosis bared lengthened teeth in a parody of a grin. "It's my job. Something of a full-time one, too. Why, it's shocking I ever manage to get anything else done–"
"Yes, thank you for that!" Voldemort said over the apparent vampire's ramblings. "Perhaps you can provide us with more information on the Tournament?" He motioned briefly to where Lucius, Barty and a few other Inner Circle Death Eaters stood, eyeing the volley between the two Dark wizards a bit warily. The idea of the Dark Lord in a temper was terrifying enough that none of them could even envision teasing him, and every time Xerosis started, they all had to fight the urge to back away. That the boy had yet to actually anger their Lord other than the one time – which Barty refused to talk about – always surprised them.
Xerosis leaned back in his chair, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. "What would you like to know? I'm not one hundred percent on the dates, but I can tell you what each of the Tasks will be." He tapped his chin as the Death Eaters shifted in disbelief; Lucius hadn't been able to discover what the Tasks were. "I can make a pretty good guess as to the Champions, too, if you want."
"The Hogwarts' Champion will be a Gryffindor," one of the Death Eaters commented, sneering. "It always is."
"I was going to say Cedric Diggory, from Hufflepuff, personally," Xerosis replied. "Then Victor Krum from Durmstrang and the part-veela, Fleur Delacour, from Beauxbatons."
"Victor Krum!" someone whispered in the crowd.
"Crucio," Voldemort intoned, lazily pointing his wand at the wizard who'd spoken. "And the Tasks?"
"The First, dragons," Xerosis reported, picking at dirt under his nails. "They'll be required to collect a golden egg from a nesting mother. Damaging the other eggs or being harmed themselves will lose them points. The egg will give them a clue for the Second Task, which will involve collecting a close friend or family member from the merpeople in the Black Lake. The Third Task will be traversing a maze built up over the course of a few months in the Quidditch Pitch. The first person to collect the Cup receives 'eternal glory', or some such rot, and one thousand galleons."
"Hm." Voldemort idly scratched his cheek with the tip of his wand, which sparked a bit in response. "How distracted by this Tournament will the Ministry be, do you think?"
Xerosis shot a sharp look at the Dark Lord. "Perhaps marginally more distracted than they usually are. Security will only be an issue for the First Task, and they'll probably leave that to the dragon handlers. You intend to announce your presence during the Tournament."
Voldemort cackled as the Death Eaters let out surprised sounds. "It is a brilliant plan, isn't it? They'll have more important things on their minds and in we swoop, making messes left and right and they'll have to focus between us and the Tournament!"
Xerosis chuckled and shook his head. "They would certainly have their hands full," he agreed. "However, this means we shouldn't do anything during the Quidditch World Cup."
"Quidditch," Voldemort huffed. "No one cares about Quidditch."
"I suppose that means you don't want to attend?" Xerosis replied. "Ah, well. I'll have to give my extra ticket to someone else. Hey, Barty, you like Quidditch, don't you?"
Barty cleared his throat. "I played Beater for four years in school," he admitted.
"Cool!"
A couple Death Eaters snorted and looked pointedly away from the thirteen-year-old who was looking his physical age, practically bouncing in his seat in excitement.
"Xerosis, calm yourself," Voldemort ordered, debating the pros and cons of casting the Cruciatus Curse on the teen.
"You're just jealous," Xerosis retorted, though he calmed down. "So, did you want to stage your grand attack on Hallowe'en, or wait until the First Task?"
"I've always been fond of Hallowe'en."
"I knew you were going to say that."
"Lucius," Voldemort said, ignoring Xerosis, "what does the Ministry look like on a normal Hallowe'en evening? Night guards? Aurors in attendance?"
"Maybe six aurors up in their office, ready to answer any night alarms," Lucius answered. "The night guard won't be there, though, as they close down the floos for the night. There might be a couple of people in the building who are trying to finish some last minute work, but most people go home to enjoy the holiday."
Xerosis cleared his throat. "A witch, Dolores Umbridge, is she one of those who tends to stay behind?"
Lucius frowned a bit behind his mask. "I don't believe I'm familiar with her, my Lord."
"Really fat, vaguely resembles a toad. Has a tendency towards ugly pink cardigans."
Lucius' eyes lit with recognition. "Yes, she often stays. I don't believe she has anyone at home, so she spends much of her time at the Ministry."
"I am somehow unsurprised." He glanced over at Voldemort. "She's a creature-hater."
"Ah." Voldemort nodded. Knowing the other, that was probably only a tiny part of why he wanted the woman dead, but that was more than enough for the moment. "Xerosis, since you have a vested interest in devastating the Ministry, you'll take a small team in with you. Take care of anyone in the building, then do some damage."
"Forgive me, my Lord, but what about the Department of Mysteries?" Lucius asked. "Only Unspeakables have access."
Xerosis smirked. "I have access to the Department of Mysteries." He turned to Voldemort. "While I'm making the Ministry look like a mundane fun park, what will you be up to?"
"I'm debating between St Mungo's and Diagon Alley," Voldemort admitted. "Both would be equally devastating, especially with the trick-or-treating in the Alley."
Xerosis pondered that. "St Mungo's will always be full, but once it's known you're back, they're going to avoid Diagon. On the other hand, if you want to train the wizarding world, you'll want to avoid killing the children, since they're the ones who will carry on our legacy." He glanced over at the Dark Lord and raised an eyebrow in a silent request for a private talk between them.
Voldemort bared his teeth, but waved his wand to create a silencing barrier between them and the Death Eaters. "What?"
"Attacking the magical world is all well and good for reminding the sheep that you've returned, but there aren't a great deal of us as it is. Attack the Ministry, make a statement there, then make a run through a mundane town. Hit London, if you're feeling daring," Xerosis offered, leaning on the arm of his chair closest to the Dark Lord.
"And what about the mudbloods?" Voldemort demanded, eyes narrowed. "Will you be asking me to save them next?"
"Don't be nasty," Xerosis retorted, not the least bit bothered by the Dark Lord's silent threat. "Look, mudbloods come from bad blood, yes, but they're still magical. They can still cast the same spells and brew the same potions. Using a magic-stealing spell will steal their magic the same way as it would yours or mine; same as it would Barty or Lucius'. Yes, they spend eleven years being taught we're demons and I'll agree that some of them need to go, same as I'll agree some purebloods are too entrenched in their pro-mundane beliefs to be kept alive. Riddle me this, if you will: Two children, pre-Hogwarts age, one raised to love mundanes, one raised as one; will you kill them both, or can you change their minds?"
Voldemort sighed and rubbed at his forehead. "Nature vs nurture. Potter, you read too many muggle books."
"I eat primarily mundane souls," the boy reminded him. "I watched a six year old mudblood lynched by his parents and older brother; mundane or magical, they're cursed either way. We're both mundane-raised, should we have been drowned at birth?"
The Dark Lord shot him a disgusted look. "I despise your Gryffindor side," he muttered, then waved the barrier away. "London, you said?"
"It would make the biggest statement," Xerosis agreed, sitting properly again in his chair and biting back a victorious smirk.
Voldemort nodded and glanced at the apparent vampire while the Death Eaters cast nervous sideways glances at each other. "How many people will you need with you?"
Xerosis hummed a bit and considered the Death Eaters, many of whom flinched away from his pale eyes. He smiled a bit at them, then turned back to the Dark Lord. "No more than four, I think."
"The Ministry isn't that empty," Lucius offered, flinching when Voldemort pointed his wand at the pureblood.
"You're cute," Xerosis decided. "Can I take Lucius and Barty with me?"
Voldemort glanced at the boy, target forgotten, much to Lucius' relief. "Why them?"
"They amuse me."
"Hmm. Fine. Anyone else you want to request?"
"No, that's good enough for me. Take Bella with you, though; she'd have more fun in London." Xerosis shot the Dark Lord a winning smile.
Voldemort snorted and turned back to his Death Eaters so he could organise the attack on London. Xerosis just relaxed back in his chair and occasionally offered his own suggestions.
-0-
"I would think your guardian would attend this match with you," Barty commented as Harry bounced along in front of him. Both of them were supplied with a couple doses of Polyjuice and were going as a father-son duo, much to Barty's consternation.
"Well, normally he would," Harry agreed, pausing to lick at his ice-pop while Barty caught up, "but he doesn't care for Ireland either way and he hates the Bulgarian team. Something about them reminding him too much of Slytherins?" Barty chuckled. "Anyway, he said I could go with whomever I chose, as long as their parent was okay with it." Harry shot the Death Eater a mad grin. "I doubt your dad's okay with you being about, but I decided you're old enough to manage yourself."
Barty snorted. "Does Black not believe in adult supervision?"
"Are you referring to Sirius as an adult?"
The Death Eater laughed at that and gladly took his seat once they'd found them. They weren't in the announcer's box, but they were pretty high up, and that was good enough for them.
As other people started filling in around them, Harry waved down someone wandering the stands with boxes of sweets and some butterbeer. The teen bought some chocolate and a butterbeer for both himself and Barty, then curled up in his seat next to Barty.
"You're going to rot your teeth," Barty muttered, even as he took the offerings.
"I'll have Madam Pomfrey fix them," Harry replied with a shrug, popping a chocoball into his mouth. "All I have to do is blame it on Sirius and she'll never say a word."
Barty snorted and relaxed back in his chair as the mascots came running out.
When Krum finally caught the snitch, Harry was grinning like the cat that caught the canary and Barty was chuckling to himself. The teen had gotten his guest to bet on the outcome with some of Harry's money, and he'd won. They could go collect their winnings, then return to the tent Sirius had pulled out of storage until the portkey to the Leaky Cauldron was set to leave tomorrow afternoon.
"I don't know why you even bothered," Barty commented as Harry bounced a bit, money pouch jingling heavily. "I was under the impression that the Potters had more than enough gold."
"I do, but since I'm waging a war..." Harry turned and waggled his eyebrows at the Death Eater.
"My Lord has money."
"True, but you can never have enough money."
"I suppose."
Harry smiled to himself a bit and ducked into the tent. "I'll start supper."
"A sandwich is fine!"
"You're such a man," Harry commented as he tackled the fridge. "I swear, you and Sirius give men a bad name. I mean, you can't even cook with magic. That is... I have no words for how sad and pathetic that is."
Barty rolled his eyes and went to put his things away in his room. Harry had grumbled about that the night before, too and Barty had just decided that his young Lord was insane – there was more than enough evidence for it – and left it at that.
"You and my Lord have the strangest relationship," Barty commented over their dinner of roast chicken. "Sometimes, when I think he's about to kill you, you smile at him a bit and he backs off."
"We all have our secrets," Harry replied after swallowing a mouthful.
"You mean some of us have our secrets; Merlin knows you know all of mine."
Harry shot him a mad little grin.
Barty rolled his eyes. "You're absolutely terrifying," he assured the teen, which earned him an eye roll. "I'll bet you've got some sort of blackmail on my Lord."
Harry shrugged. "Sure, I've got loads of blackmail on him, just like he's got plenty on me. We're a lot alike, Voldemort and I – more alike than you could ever know – so we get each other. We don't have to curse each other to make our point. That's not to say we don't curse each other, sure, but we don't have to."
"You are, quite possibly, the only fourteen-year-old who could charm a Dark Lord and live to tell the tale," Barty decided. "You two have got to have a lot in common for him to be so nice to you."
Harry snorted. "Let us get something straight, Barty. Lord Voldemort is not nice. He wasn't nice when he was my age, and he isn't nice now. Voldemort and I have agreed that working together was to our mutual benefit, so we've agreed to keep all our disagreements behind closed doors and when one of us has a point, we've agreed to shut up and listen to it fairly. But don't suddenly go around thinking we're best mates or anything."
"You two are just a little bit mad. You know that, right?"
"Know it?" Harry bared his teeth in a parody of a smile, green eyes flashing behind his glasses. "Oh, yes. Be certain that both Voldemort and I are quite aware of our insanity."
Barty shook his head. "What are you planning for the rest of the summer?"
"Oh, Voldemort and I had another lab we were thinking about–"
"No, not what my Lord Xerosis is planning on doing; what is Harry Potter planning for the rest of the summer?"
"Hm. Don't know. Play with my garden a bit more, I suppose."
"...You are strange."
"I like my garden! I put a lot of work into it."
"It's a very nice garden," Barty agreed. "But you're fourteen! Surely you've got more exciting things to do than play with flowers and dirt.
"Mmm... Flying a bit? Reading? Starting another prank war with Sirius... Sure, there are other things. But I like my garden."
Barty sighed. "You are the strangest fourteen year old I've ever met."
"But you love me anyway!" Harry declared, pasting on his winning smile.
Barty couldn't help the smile that curled his lips in response. "I suppose I must."
-0-
"So, Anthony was telling me just last week in Diagon that his mum's been going a bit mad at work," Terry commented once they'd all been settled in their usual compartment for a good bit. "It's not the Quidditch Cup, either, he said. It's something else. Something to do with Hogwarts." He glanced around the compartment, eyes stopping hopefully on Luna while the others glanced up from their books or, in Neville's case, plant. "I don't suppose you know anything about it, do you? Your dad's a reporter, right?"
Luna blinked her wide eyes at him innocently. "The Ministry? What do we care for them when someone finally got a shot of a Crumple–"
Hermione shot Luna an irritated look. "If your magazine actually focused on the real world, instead of some–"
Harry cleared his throat. "TriWizard Tournament!"
Everyone was silent for a long moment, blinking at the Boy-Who-Lived a bit blankly. Only Luna seemed to understand what he had been talking about and she smiled a bit to herself and relaxed against Harry's legs.
"Why are you bringing up an archaic tourney?" Li wondered, frowning a bit.
"It's not archaic," Harry muttered.
"It has not occurred in almost two hundred years," Li replied drily.
"What's the 'TriWizard Tournament'?" Hermione asked, frowning a bit. She didn't like not knowing things, but spending most of her free time with four Ravenclaws – two of which were wizarding-raised and one of which liked to pretend he was – had taught her that, sometimes, she didn't know something, but if she asked, they were more than happy to fill her in.
"It's a tournament that was started maybe seven hundred years ago between Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to allow them to prove which school was better," Neville explained, brow furrowing a bit as he tried to remember the stories he'd heard when he was younger. "People used to die in it a lot, though, so they eventually discontinued the practise."
"Beauxbatons and Durmstrang?" Terry parroted, taking his own turn at being the unknowing muggleborn.
"The two other European magical schools," Harry offered, picking his book back up with a faint smile. "Beauxbatons is in France and largely admits students from the western European countries. Durmstrang is somewhere between Germany and Russia – they don't like giving an exact location – and they take most of the prospective students from the eastern parts of Europe, with an occasional Russian student. Durmstrang is well known for their hatred of mundane-borns and their usage of the Dark Arts, while Beauxbatons is better known for its acceptance of part-creatures and use of both Light and Dark Arts. Hogwarts, on the other hand, is well known for its predominately Light curriculum and acceptance of mundane-borns."
"So Beauxbatons is better if you're willing to learn either type of magic?" Terry wondered, eyes lighting up a bit.
"They also tend to be more formal," Li offered, shooting her friend an amused look. "Etiquette classes are required until your sixth year."
Terry mocked gagging at the very thought while the others laughed.
Li cleared her throat and stared at Harry until he looked over his book at her, one eyebrow raised. "You're the one who brought it up," she reminded him.
"Technically, Terry brought it up," Harry pointed out. "Or, more specifically, he asked what has the Ministry in such a flurry and I answered."
"The Ministry wouldn't bring the TriWizard Tournament back," Neville replied, shaking his head. "Too many people died."
"They're more than stupid enough to try it," Terry reminded the pureblood.
"I certainly hope the Ministry knows better than to allow a tournament that people died in!" Hermione cut in. "It's bad enough they allow quidditch–"
"What's wrong with quidditch?" Terry asked, scowling a bit. "It's a great sport to watch–"
"Riding on sticks of wood hundreds of feet in the air!" Hermione cried. "What if someone falls? What if–"
Harry gently nudged Luna with a foot and stood once she'd gotten out of the way. "I'm going to go see Lillian," he told Luna and Li, then left to the sounds of Hermione and Terry bickering. Really, the whole argument rather reminded him of his Hermione and Ron from before. He was somehow both sad and happy that Hermione wasn't all that different and that one of his new friends could take Ron's place. Of course, the argument in general drove him a bit mad; sometimes it was nice to have a friend who didn't get on with the rest of his friends.
"Oh, Merlin forbid," Morag muttered as Harry poked his head into their usual compartment.
"Oh, Morag, how I've missed your shining personality this summer just past!" Harry cried, striding into the compartment and dropping to his knees in front of his fellow Ravenclaw. "I don't know how I've managed to survive!"
"Potter, get away from me before I catch your insanity."
"But Morag, my dear, dear Morag–"
Lillian leaned forward and gently dragged her male friend away from the other Ravenclaw while Millicent laughed and Tracey covered a smile. "Come on, Harry. Not everyone has your sense of humour."
"More the pity," Harry sighed, then hopped up off the floor and plopped into the seat next to Lillian. "I had to get away from Hermione and Terry, so I thought I'd come visit my other bestest friends!"
"Don't group us in with your deranged friends," Morag immediately retorted.
"What were the mudbloods doing this time?" Lillian asked, completely ignoring her other friend.
"Arguing quidditch," Harry replied. "Terry's for it, Hermione's against it. It was funny back in second year, and maybe even a little bit in third year, but it's just boring now."
"Speaking of, I thought for sure you'd be at the Quidditch World Cup," Lillian said, frowning a bit.
"I was," Harry agreed, grinning a bit. "But my friend and I decided it was easier to go in disguise, so we utilised Polyjuice."
"Which friend did you take?" Millicent wondered.
"Probably Boot," Morag suggested.
"Nah." Harry waved a hand, amused. "I don't think you'd know him, since he's a bit older than us. Anyway, he's staying with the Malfoys right now."
Lillian choked. "You didn't take–"
Harry laughed and shook his head. "The Dark Lord? Merlin, no. He hates quidditch. I took Barty Crouch Junior."
The gobsmacked looks on the other Slytherins and Ravenclaw's faces were totally worth admitting to the knowledge that Voldemort was back. And he knew these four wouldn't spread it around, though they might slip hints to other Slytherins. It would be fun to watch the House of snakes while the rumours flew around that Harry Potter was cosy with a convicted Death Eater.
Of course, once the name Xerosis was known in conjunction with Voldemort, the reactions should be even better. Especially since Lillian knew Harry had used the name two years ago. He would enjoy watching the school after Hallowe'en.
"How do you know the Dark Lord hates quidditch?" Morag demanded, leaning forward, eyes narrowed.
"He mentioned it when I brought up the World Cup," Harry replied with a shrug. "So I asked Barty, since I knew he liked it well enough."
"I'm beginning to think you have imaginary friends," Tracey decided. "That, or you're crazier than I've given you credit for." She looked at Lillian, who was shaking her head with a faint smile on her face. "You don't, honestly, believe him, do you?"
Lillian cleared her throat uncomfortably. "You know how I told you I met the Dark Lord at the Christmas Ball two years ago?"
"Yeah, sure. Except you said he looked all human." Morag scoffed.
"What, you think the Dark Lord was born looking like a human-snake hybrid?" Harry asked, amused. "I can just see his mum's face now. Although, given, his mum wasn't much of a looker..."
"Now I know you're full of shit," Tracey decided.
"Yeah, mudblood shit," Morag agreed, smirking a bit nastily. "Your mum was one, after all."
Harry narrowed his eyes, no longer amused. "You leave my mother out of things, McDougal."
"What are you going to do if I don't, Potter? Go crying to her grave?"
Harry snapped out his stolen wand and snapped, "Membrum."
Morag gasped as the Dark spell set her fingers and toes screaming in pain. The curse, known as the Curse of Burning, was a precursor to the Cruciatus Curse, and while the pain build-up was slow, could cause just as much agony as the Unforgivable. More so, if the Curse of Burning wasn't removed from the target, it was fatal.
Harry leaned forward, green eyes gleaming with a dark light. "Let me make myself clear, McDougal: Leave. My. Mum. Alone."
Morag nodded her head viciously in understanding, a whimper escaping her lips as the curse started moving towards her ankles and wrists.
Harry's lips curled with a cruel smile. "I didn't hear you, McDougal."
"Harry, stop," Lillian whispered, gently touching his shoulder. When he turned to her, she swallowed, then added, "Please."
Harry pursed his lips, but ended the spell. As Morag gasped in relief, the boy stood and turned towards the door. Just before he opened it, Morag whispered, "I'm sorry, Potter. I won't... I won't mention your mum again."
Harry turned to look at her, eyes hard. "See that you don't," he said, then stepped from the compartment and down the hall to the nearest men's loo. In there, he stepped over to the sink and leaned his forehead against the mirror, trying to get his temper under control. Morag didn't know it – would likely never know – but it had taken all of Harry's will to keep his dementor ability in check and not suck down her soul or cast the Cruciatus in response to her jab.
There were few things that could upset him like someone talking badly about Lily Potter, but he'd always been fond of his mum and that tiny piece of her he carried in his eyes and temperament. Seeing her say goodbye, watching her give her life for him... His mum had been the most amazing, kind and wonderful person he'd ever known, and he'd only known her for a moment. That someone could find something hateful to say about her...
The door behind him opened and Cedric Diggory stepped in. The Hufflepuff paused for a moment, watching Harry watch him in the mirror, then sighed and asked, "All right there, Potter?"
Harry considered the older boy in the mirror for a long moment, debating with himself. On one hand, he and Diggory had absolutely nothing in common at the moment, not even quidditch, and Harry had been the entire reason Diggory had found out about the dragons. On the other, Dumbledore could very well find another way to let his Champion find out what was coming, and getting to know Diggory at this juncture...
"Just fine," Harry agreed, pasting on an easy, but slightly ashamed smile. "Just some bad food for breakfast. Probably Sirius' fault, knowing how his cooking attempts usually go."
"Oh, alright then." Diggory nodded and stepped over to a urinal.
Harry quickly left the loo at that and started down the passage to his original compartment, seeing little sense in seeing Morag again so soon after losing his temper. He'd keep his eye on Diggory, perhaps. If it was within two weeks of the Task and the boy was still clueless about the dragons, an anonymous note could be slipped to him.
Harry may not have cared one way or the other for the tournament, but he had enough school pride that he wasn't about to make it easy for Krum or Delacour.
-0-
Xerosis pondered the buttons in front of him as the other four Death Eaters shuffled into the phone booth. It had a couple of expanding spells built in which would allow a party of no more than seven – something the auror department had demanded back when the Ministry had first moved to the current building after a particular raid had found them with four Dark wizards and three aurors trying to fit into a phone booth which could only fit two if they both squeezed.
Once everyone was in, Xerosis typed in the numbers. "Please state the purpose behind your business at the Ministry of Magic," the pleasant voice requested as the booth started its decent.
"Lord Xerosis and Death Eaters here for the purpose of death and destruction," Xerosis intoned in a bored voice.
"Please enjoy your visit to the Ministry of Magic," the voice replied as five buttons popped out of the bottom.
Xerosis glanced at the buttons, then passed the four stating 'Death Eater, Violence Against Ministry Personal and Property' back to the others behind him, smirking to himself.
"This won't alert the aurors?" one of the extra Death Eaters, a man named Ash Venting, asked.
Lucius snorted. "You're an idiot."
"Now, now, Lucius, not everyone is as familiar as yourself with the intricacies of the British Ministry," Xerosis chastised, glancing over his shoulder at the Death Eaters and smiling a bit. "However, Venting, you really must remember not to question me."
Venting swallowed and tried shrinking back against the glass door.
Xerosis' smile darkened with promise before he turned back towards the front as the empty atrium came into view.
Once the lift came to a stop, everyone shuffled out and the Death Eaters turned to the apparent vampire to await his orders.
Xerosis glanced at the statue in the fountain, considered his options, then turned back to the Death Eaters, content to change it on their way out. "Lucius, you're the most familiar with the Minister's office and the subsequent offices on the first floor, so why don't you pick either Venting or Robbins and tackle that. The rest of us will start our play on the second floor, taking out the aurors and subsequent personal. Meet us there when you're done, since the second floor will likely be better staffed than any other floor except, perhaps, for the Department of Mysteries. Once those two floors are done, we can tackle the rest of the building."
When the Death Eaters had nodded their understanding, Xerosis led the way to the lifts and called one. Once they were all on it, Lucius motioned to Robbins and drew him to the side to discuss their attack plan.
Barty glanced at Xerosis, who was humming a bit as the lift continued its journey. "My Lord, do we have an attack plan?"
The boy smiled at him. "Now why would I want one of those?" he wondered.
Barty sighed and shot Venting a glare when the younger Death Eater opened his mouth to comment.
"I do very much like you, Barty," Xerosis decided. "Yes, we have a plan. I want you at the lifts, watching for anyone who might step from those offices on the hall. Venting will come with me into the auror offices, where we will deal with our friends there, quietly, if at all possible." He glanced at Venting, who shuddered and nodded his understanding. "Once they're taken care of, we will deal with those offices. If, by some miracle, Lucius and Robbins join you before Venting and I return, you may start on the offices together."
Barty nodded. "Thank you, my Lord."
Xerosis reached up and patted Barty's cheek, a fond expression on his face, then turned and led the way out of the lift as they reached the second floor.
Barty remained behind them, as ordered, so Xerosis led the way forward to the auror offices, pulling out his wand. He shoved the door open, took a moment to spot all seven aurors in attendance, then snapped, "Obretio!" Before any of the aurors could properly react, they found the malleable items nearest to them – a potted plant, a drape, a blanket hidden under a nearby desk or their clothing – wrap around them and make them incapable of moving, other than two of them falling over.
"Accio aurors' wands," Venting whispered and twenty-ish wands soared towards the spot he'd been standing in, falling to the ground at his feet when he directed them down.
A quick spell had the cursed wands burning, then Xerosis collected the rest of them and stuck them in his pocket. Upon seeing the faces of the aurors, he assured them, "You won't be needing them again." Then he turned to the Death Eater at his side. "You've risen in my eyes again, Venting. Good job with the wands."
Venting swelled with pride behind his mask.
"Don't get a big head," Xerosis added, then stalked forwards, twirling his wand in one hand. "Hello, luvs. I'm Lord Xerosis, partner of Lord Voldemort. Voldemort sends his regards and apologises for being unable to greet you himself, but he's busy organising an attack on London which should start, in, oh..." A silent tempus showed the time to be just before six o'clock. "Another hour or so." He smiled at the disbelieving souls. "Don't worry, you won't have to worry about answering the alarm. Venting!"
"My Lord?"
"You may deal with four of them as you see fit." He glanced towards the hallway that led to Arthur Weasley's office, where he could sense another human, albeit, a sleeping one. "Although, make sure they don't get too loud, hm?" he added before sweeping past the aurors and slipping down the empty hallway to the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office.
The man Xerosis only ever knew as "Perkins" sat at his desk, eyes closed and wheezing slightly. The part of the teen that was still fond of his once-father-in-law was glad Arthur hadn't been the sleeping occupant. He had no care one way or the other for Perkins, so he leaned over and absently sucked his soul before reaching out and snapping his neck. The man's wand joined those in Xerosis' pocket, as well as some amusing or potentially useful cursed mundane objects, then he swept out of the office and back out into the auror's office, where he found that Venting was making quite the sport of silently torturing the aurors. One of them was trying to climb the wall while another was beating himself over the head with a paper weight. Two of them, clearly friends, were trying to choke each other, wrestling around on the ground.
Xerosis absently flicked Killing Curses at the last three, who were watching their Imperiused co-workers with horror. He tossed himself into a chair to watch the action, absently tossing a Killing Curse towards the door when a runner from one of the hall offices dashed in.
Barty appeared behind the dead wizard. "My Lord, this floor and the first floor are clear."
Xerosis nodded and got to his feet. "Playtime's over, Venting. We've got another six floors yet."
Venting shot off two Killing Curses – the one who'd been beating himself had died a while ago and one of the wrestlers had choked to death only moments before – then turned and joined Xerosis and Barty in walking towards the lifts, where they met up with Lucius and Robbins.
"Barty, how many people do you want for level three?" Xerosis wondered as they stepped onto the lift.
Barty glanced at his options. "I'll take Venting and Robbins if my Lord allows."
"Go forth and devastate," Xerosis agreed as they stopped at level three. Once the three Death Eaters had left, he smiled at Lucius. "If you see Miss Umbridge, do save her for me. I have just the thing in mind."
"Of course, my Lord," Lucius agreed smoothly as they stepped out into the hallway.
Umbridge was found in the small tea room at the end of the floor. Xerosis took great pleasure in crucioing her and carving 'I am a fat toad' into her hand. Then he grabbed her around her fat throat and bodily tossed her against the wall at the back of the tiny Centaur Liaison Office, smirking viciously at the sound of her fat squelching.
Down the hall, standing over a couple of other Ministry employees, Lucius winced and made a mental note to stay on his second Lord's good side if at all possible.
They all went together into level five and had some fun, then split up for the equally empty levels six and seven. They all gathered together again to tackle the Department of Mysteries, where Xerosis split them up into three groups with Barty and Venting making up one team and Lucius and Robbins making up the other. Xerosis travelled on his own and swallowed a good fifteen souls by taking the offices.
Xerosis also made sure he got the Death Room and the Prophecy Room. In the first, he blasted the Veil to bits, not willing to chance Sirius falling through it a second time, even if it was rather Gryffindor of him. In the Prophecy Room, he picked up the prophecy and dropped it to the ground, where it broke into a thousand pieces. "Remain unfulfilled," he whispered as Trelawney's voice drifted to the ceiling and faded away. "I'm not the boy you once put your hopes in. I am the Dark Lord Xerosis, and I will see those who murdered my people dead." He turned on his heel and stalked from the room, hunting down other Unspeakables he could suck the souls from.
Once they were done, Xerosis silently cast the Parsel communication spell the Dark Lord had taught him and murmured, :Ministry is emptied of all personnel I could sense. London attack is a go.:
As they walked past the fountain, Xerosis stopped and concentrated for a moment to transfigure the statue into a warning. The four Death Eaters shuddered to see the two Dark Lords glaring down at them, wands raised in a threat. Standing behind Voldemort and Xerosis were four Death Eaters, masked faces blank and Dark Marks bared as they pointed their wands towards the doorway to the lifts and the security wizard's desk.
Xerosis finally led the way to the apparation zone and they all returned to Malfoy Manor, which was already empty of the second party, gone to tackle London. "Venting, Robbins, go home. Take a night off and get some sleep. Barty, you'd best make yourself scarce. Lucius, be prepared to receive any wounded or any suspicious guests from the Ministry or Dumbledore's Order."
Venting and Robbins both apparated away while Barty went off to assist Narcissa in waiting for any wounded. "Enjoy the rest of your Hallowe'en, my Lord," Lucius murmured, bowing low before the boy who was the same age as his son.
Xerosis gently removed Lucius' mask and considered the man. After a long moment of silence, he nodded and handed the mask back. "Enjoy your Hallowe'en, Lucius," he murmured before shadowing away. In the Death Eater's eyes, he'd looked for any deception, any disgust at serving a teenager, and he'd found none. When he finally revealed his true form to the Death Eaters, he knew he'd have at least two allies among the troops.
-0-
"Did you hear about the attacks last night?" Hermione whispered as Harry slid into the open seat next to her in Charms. Terry and Kenneth took the seats in front of them while Li settled in next to Neville behind them.
"Good riddance to bad rubbish," Stephen muttered.
"They were innocent muggles!" Hermione hissed.
"Steve was talking about the Ministry," Harry commented drily as he pulled a quill and some parchment out. "And of course I heard about it, what with the racket you lions were making."
Hermione huffed. "It's a big deal! Over two thousand killed!"
"There are plenty of muggles, Granger," Morag spat, coming to a stop at Harry's shoulder. "Don't get your knickers in a twist over them. I'd be more concerned for the eighty killed at the Ministry."
"At least the Dark Lord was focussing on the mundanes instead of the magical people," Harry pointed out, glancing at the rogue Ravenclaw.
"It's wrong that he's killing anyone!" Hermione cried.
Morag sneered at the Gryffindor and stalked away to her usual seat – as far away from Harry and his friends as she could get.
"And you!" Hermione added, turning on Harry once Morag was gone.
"Sixty million," Harry replied in a monotone.
Hermione blinked in surprise, rant completely cut off. "What?"
"That's how many people were killed in World War Two by mundane weaponry. Approximately."
"What does that have to do–"
"Over fifty percent of those were civilians," Harry continued. "Over three thousand were magical. That's almost twice the number of magical deaths from the last war with Voldemort." He glanced over at her. "Who is worse?"
Hermione stared at him, appalled. Before she could come up with a response, Flitwick had entered the room and quickly started class. He, like many of the professors, looked worried and a little sick.
Harry wondered how long the teachers had thought Voldemort might have been back before that attack. Snape certainly had his suspicions, and Dumbledore had likely shared them, but as for the other professors...
As soon as class was over, Hermione grabbed Harry's arm in a steel grip, eyes burning. "You can't believe that muggles are evil, Harry. You grew up with them!"
Harry considered her for a moment, then commented, "Approximately seven mundane-borns a year are killed by their parents, Hermione. It's because I grew up with mundanes that I know what they're capable of. You've often told me that you were shunned in school for your brains. Imagine what would have happened if they'd known you were magical." He gently removed her hand from his arm. "I understand that there are nice mundanes out there, mundanes that deserve to live; don't think me completely against them. But don't believe I will cry over their deaths, either."
He turned and left with his classmates, falling in next to Stephen. Li and Terry had stopped walking with him when he'd given them much the same speech that morning over breakfast. A spell would keep them from spreading his words on to anyone else, but they were certainly capable of thinking about it.
Harry's only sadness was that he may have just lost all of his friends in one fell swoop. Only Lillian and Luna remained. Stephen stood by him; the boy had no love for mundanes, though he held no particular hatred towards them, either.
He wondered how long it would take Dumbledore or his pet spy to realise that Harry was spending his time with a different crowd. It would be interesting to watch.
-0-
"Why do you hate them so much?" Hermione asked one afternoon a week after Hallowe'en. Harry had been working on a paper for Moody in the library when the Gryffindor had approached, Neville standing nervously in her shadow. "And don't give me more numbers."
Harry considered the two from behind his glasses before waving them into seats and discreetly casting a silencing spell over their table. "I am afraid of them," he admitted, comfortable enough with his fear to accept it. "They far outnumber us and they have more devastating weapons. I know you never believed that my relatives were cruel to me, Hermione, but they were. They hated me because I had magic, something they couldn't fully comprehend. Something they couldn't fight. If they hadn't been so afraid of the potential backlash, they would have happily seen me dead."
"They would never–"
"Hermione, for once, stop debating with him and just listen," Neville murmured. "Please?"
Harry was beginning to understand why Hermione had even bothered searching him out. "You've heard plenty of stories about Terry's brother," he offered. "If you ever got the boy into a room, tied to a chair and completely helpless, what would you do to him?"
"I..." Hermione sucked her lower lip into her mouth and chewed on it a bit. "I don't know."
Harry leaned forward, smiling at her knowingly. "Yes you do."
Hermione turned away, face burning in shame.
"People – both mundane and magical – are ugly, vicious souls. We're all very much alike, and when we find someone with something we don't have, something we crave, we react one of two ways: Either we become jealous and become hateful, or we accept that we'll never get any closer than that person and we cherish them. How do you think most mundanes would react to knowing there were people out there with magic? People who carried in their pocket a weapon more lethal than a common gun? People who could point a stick at you and erase everything you've ever known in the blink of an eye?"
Hermione swallowed, picking at a groove in the table. "They'd hunt down every magical person they could find and kill them," she whispered.
"Even the smallest children," Harry replied grimly, eyes dark with memories of war. "Mundanes kill one another because their religion is different. They kill each other because they have different coloured skin or prefer their own sex. They kill each other to make a statement or even because they're sick of the world and they don't want to die alone."
Hermione shook her head. "And wizards aren't just as bad?" she snapped, fire in her eyes again as she stared at Harry.
"We're all human," Harry replied with a shrug. "But if I have to pick between mundanes and magical people, I'd pick the magical people. Call me a hypocrite. Hate me if you'd like, but that's how I see the world."
"You're as bad as the Slytherins and their purity of blood nonsense!" Hermione shouted, jumping to her feet.
Harry met her furious look with a resigned one of his own. "Yes," he agreed, "I suppose I am."
Hermione let out an aggravated sound and stormed off.
Neville glanced towards where Hermione had gone and back towards Harry. Harry smiled at him. "Go after her. You're her best friend, not mine. I'll have Lillian and Luna, but without you she'll have no one."
Neville rose and paused to chew his lip. "What you said, Harry... It made a lot of sense. But Hermione..."
"Go, Neville," Harry replied. "I knew a long time ago that this would happen. Don't worry about me."
Neville glanced at him. "You were my first friend," he whispered. "When you looked at me, even when I first bumped into you, you saw the person I could become, not the idiot I was. Thank you for that."
Harry shot him one last smile, then turned down to his paper as Neville's footsteps walked away. "It was the least I could do," he whispered to his quill. "You're not an idiot, Neville Longbottom; you're one of the bravest men I've ever known. Your parents would be proud; I know I am."
He banished his work to his room, then left the library to find Luna. Her mad sense was exactly what he needed.
-0-
"Are you intending to go to the dance?" Lillian asked as they worked on repotting their most recent assignment in Herbology.
"He already asked Luna," Stephen offered from Harry's other side. He, Morag and Lisa Turpin were the only members of their year in Ravenclaw who would talk with Harry anymore, so he often found himself partnering with one of them in various classes. At that moment, he was working with Stephen, Lillian and Millicent, with Morag and Tracey at the next table over with some other Slytherins. For all that Lisa spent time with Harry, she was still mostly welcomed by the other girls in their year and often sat with them when Harry didn't require a partner.
"Why would you ask Loony when you could have asked me?" Lillian demanded, puffing herself up importantly.
"It's not fair for me to only ever dance with you, Lil," Harry replied, rolling his eyes. "And I like Luna."
"You're the only one that does," Millicent muttered.
"It's the new thing," Harry retorted. "No one likes me anymore, so everyone else around me is trying to find ways to become unpopular. Next thing you know, they'll all be painting black around their eyes and sulking around like a cult of demented vampires."
"You are a disturbing individual," Millicent decided.
"It's part of his charm," Lillian offered, giving Harry a pitiful look. "But I've been turning down all sorts of offers just so I could go with you."
"It's not against the rules to take two dates," Stephen helpfully pointed out.
"And dance all night? Merlin, no. I'll be hanging up my feet next to my dancing shoes."
"Disturbing," Millicent commented.
"I kind of like the idea of two of us going with you, Harry."
"Now who's disturbed?" Harry muttered, rolling his eyes. "Lil, I'm not taking both you and Luna. I will dance with you at least once, but you'll have to find a different date."
Lillian managed an impressive pout. "Come on, Harry."
Harry decided his daughter had pulled that particular expression off better than his friend and shook his head. "Not giving in to you, Lil."
Lillian sighed. She'd just have to go with a Slytherin after all.
-0-
Chapter Five, Part Two
Chapters:
Pro - If We Could Only Turn Back Time / 1 - Long Road
2 - Never As It Seems ||| 3 - The Bad Man, the Sad Man ||| 4 - Armies of Robbers and Thieves
5 - Fear Falls Like Rain ||| 6 - Rage Like Fire ||| 7 - Born From Conflict
8 - Reach Any Star ||| 9 - Cold Fields ||| 10 - Ice Inside Your Soul
11 - King of Anything
Author:
batsutousaiBeta:
tsuki_no_suzu & magickmaker17Rating: T
Pairings: Voldemort/Harry (post-Harry/Ginny)
Warnings: SLASH, AU, character death, super!Harry, Dark!Harry
Summary: Harry's world ends at the hands of those he'd once fought to save. An adult-Harry goes back to his younger self fic. Super!Harry
Disclaim Her: The spells you don't recognise that Harry uses in this chapter are ones I made up. They were created for my Abandon re-write, but since I was stuck without my Latin dictionary and needed a spell, I just stole them from those notes. Yes, you can use them yourself, but credit where credit is due. And all that.
A/N: So, everyone wanted to know what Harry's boggart was. Erm, you know, I never really thought about it all that much, which is why it wasn't in there. Bit of a throw-up between the end of the world and the mundane who shot him. (Not that he fears the mundane, specifically, but he fears failure, and both of those represent that. The end of the world is pretty obvious, but the mundane represents Harry's failure to survive.)
Fear Falls Like Rain
-0-0-0-
"I have just heard the most delicious rumour about next year," Voldemort said as soon as he noticed Xerosis in the corner of his small meeting room.
"The TriWizard Tournament, perchance?" Xerosis replied, stepping smoothly over to the second chair the Dark Lord had created next to his own after their run-in with Death.
"You take a great deal of fun out of my life," Voldemort decided.
Xerosis bared lengthened teeth in a parody of a grin. "It's my job. Something of a full-time one, too. Why, it's shocking I ever manage to get anything else done–"
"Yes, thank you for that!" Voldemort said over the apparent vampire's ramblings. "Perhaps you can provide us with more information on the Tournament?" He motioned briefly to where Lucius, Barty and a few other Inner Circle Death Eaters stood, eyeing the volley between the two Dark wizards a bit warily. The idea of the Dark Lord in a temper was terrifying enough that none of them could even envision teasing him, and every time Xerosis started, they all had to fight the urge to back away. That the boy had yet to actually anger their Lord other than the one time – which Barty refused to talk about – always surprised them.
Xerosis leaned back in his chair, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. "What would you like to know? I'm not one hundred percent on the dates, but I can tell you what each of the Tasks will be." He tapped his chin as the Death Eaters shifted in disbelief; Lucius hadn't been able to discover what the Tasks were. "I can make a pretty good guess as to the Champions, too, if you want."
"The Hogwarts' Champion will be a Gryffindor," one of the Death Eaters commented, sneering. "It always is."
"I was going to say Cedric Diggory, from Hufflepuff, personally," Xerosis replied. "Then Victor Krum from Durmstrang and the part-veela, Fleur Delacour, from Beauxbatons."
"Victor Krum!" someone whispered in the crowd.
"Crucio," Voldemort intoned, lazily pointing his wand at the wizard who'd spoken. "And the Tasks?"
"The First, dragons," Xerosis reported, picking at dirt under his nails. "They'll be required to collect a golden egg from a nesting mother. Damaging the other eggs or being harmed themselves will lose them points. The egg will give them a clue for the Second Task, which will involve collecting a close friend or family member from the merpeople in the Black Lake. The Third Task will be traversing a maze built up over the course of a few months in the Quidditch Pitch. The first person to collect the Cup receives 'eternal glory', or some such rot, and one thousand galleons."
"Hm." Voldemort idly scratched his cheek with the tip of his wand, which sparked a bit in response. "How distracted by this Tournament will the Ministry be, do you think?"
Xerosis shot a sharp look at the Dark Lord. "Perhaps marginally more distracted than they usually are. Security will only be an issue for the First Task, and they'll probably leave that to the dragon handlers. You intend to announce your presence during the Tournament."
Voldemort cackled as the Death Eaters let out surprised sounds. "It is a brilliant plan, isn't it? They'll have more important things on their minds and in we swoop, making messes left and right and they'll have to focus between us and the Tournament!"
Xerosis chuckled and shook his head. "They would certainly have their hands full," he agreed. "However, this means we shouldn't do anything during the Quidditch World Cup."
"Quidditch," Voldemort huffed. "No one cares about Quidditch."
"I suppose that means you don't want to attend?" Xerosis replied. "Ah, well. I'll have to give my extra ticket to someone else. Hey, Barty, you like Quidditch, don't you?"
Barty cleared his throat. "I played Beater for four years in school," he admitted.
"Cool!"
A couple Death Eaters snorted and looked pointedly away from the thirteen-year-old who was looking his physical age, practically bouncing in his seat in excitement.
"Xerosis, calm yourself," Voldemort ordered, debating the pros and cons of casting the Cruciatus Curse on the teen.
"You're just jealous," Xerosis retorted, though he calmed down. "So, did you want to stage your grand attack on Hallowe'en, or wait until the First Task?"
"I've always been fond of Hallowe'en."
"I knew you were going to say that."
"Lucius," Voldemort said, ignoring Xerosis, "what does the Ministry look like on a normal Hallowe'en evening? Night guards? Aurors in attendance?"
"Maybe six aurors up in their office, ready to answer any night alarms," Lucius answered. "The night guard won't be there, though, as they close down the floos for the night. There might be a couple of people in the building who are trying to finish some last minute work, but most people go home to enjoy the holiday."
Xerosis cleared his throat. "A witch, Dolores Umbridge, is she one of those who tends to stay behind?"
Lucius frowned a bit behind his mask. "I don't believe I'm familiar with her, my Lord."
"Really fat, vaguely resembles a toad. Has a tendency towards ugly pink cardigans."
Lucius' eyes lit with recognition. "Yes, she often stays. I don't believe she has anyone at home, so she spends much of her time at the Ministry."
"I am somehow unsurprised." He glanced over at Voldemort. "She's a creature-hater."
"Ah." Voldemort nodded. Knowing the other, that was probably only a tiny part of why he wanted the woman dead, but that was more than enough for the moment. "Xerosis, since you have a vested interest in devastating the Ministry, you'll take a small team in with you. Take care of anyone in the building, then do some damage."
"Forgive me, my Lord, but what about the Department of Mysteries?" Lucius asked. "Only Unspeakables have access."
Xerosis smirked. "I have access to the Department of Mysteries." He turned to Voldemort. "While I'm making the Ministry look like a mundane fun park, what will you be up to?"
"I'm debating between St Mungo's and Diagon Alley," Voldemort admitted. "Both would be equally devastating, especially with the trick-or-treating in the Alley."
Xerosis pondered that. "St Mungo's will always be full, but once it's known you're back, they're going to avoid Diagon. On the other hand, if you want to train the wizarding world, you'll want to avoid killing the children, since they're the ones who will carry on our legacy." He glanced over at the Dark Lord and raised an eyebrow in a silent request for a private talk between them.
Voldemort bared his teeth, but waved his wand to create a silencing barrier between them and the Death Eaters. "What?"
"Attacking the magical world is all well and good for reminding the sheep that you've returned, but there aren't a great deal of us as it is. Attack the Ministry, make a statement there, then make a run through a mundane town. Hit London, if you're feeling daring," Xerosis offered, leaning on the arm of his chair closest to the Dark Lord.
"And what about the mudbloods?" Voldemort demanded, eyes narrowed. "Will you be asking me to save them next?"
"Don't be nasty," Xerosis retorted, not the least bit bothered by the Dark Lord's silent threat. "Look, mudbloods come from bad blood, yes, but they're still magical. They can still cast the same spells and brew the same potions. Using a magic-stealing spell will steal their magic the same way as it would yours or mine; same as it would Barty or Lucius'. Yes, they spend eleven years being taught we're demons and I'll agree that some of them need to go, same as I'll agree some purebloods are too entrenched in their pro-mundane beliefs to be kept alive. Riddle me this, if you will: Two children, pre-Hogwarts age, one raised to love mundanes, one raised as one; will you kill them both, or can you change their minds?"
Voldemort sighed and rubbed at his forehead. "Nature vs nurture. Potter, you read too many muggle books."
"I eat primarily mundane souls," the boy reminded him. "I watched a six year old mudblood lynched by his parents and older brother; mundane or magical, they're cursed either way. We're both mundane-raised, should we have been drowned at birth?"
The Dark Lord shot him a disgusted look. "I despise your Gryffindor side," he muttered, then waved the barrier away. "London, you said?"
"It would make the biggest statement," Xerosis agreed, sitting properly again in his chair and biting back a victorious smirk.
Voldemort nodded and glanced at the apparent vampire while the Death Eaters cast nervous sideways glances at each other. "How many people will you need with you?"
Xerosis hummed a bit and considered the Death Eaters, many of whom flinched away from his pale eyes. He smiled a bit at them, then turned back to the Dark Lord. "No more than four, I think."
"The Ministry isn't that empty," Lucius offered, flinching when Voldemort pointed his wand at the pureblood.
"You're cute," Xerosis decided. "Can I take Lucius and Barty with me?"
Voldemort glanced at the boy, target forgotten, much to Lucius' relief. "Why them?"
"They amuse me."
"Hmm. Fine. Anyone else you want to request?"
"No, that's good enough for me. Take Bella with you, though; she'd have more fun in London." Xerosis shot the Dark Lord a winning smile.
Voldemort snorted and turned back to his Death Eaters so he could organise the attack on London. Xerosis just relaxed back in his chair and occasionally offered his own suggestions.
"I would think your guardian would attend this match with you," Barty commented as Harry bounced along in front of him. Both of them were supplied with a couple doses of Polyjuice and were going as a father-son duo, much to Barty's consternation.
"Well, normally he would," Harry agreed, pausing to lick at his ice-pop while Barty caught up, "but he doesn't care for Ireland either way and he hates the Bulgarian team. Something about them reminding him too much of Slytherins?" Barty chuckled. "Anyway, he said I could go with whomever I chose, as long as their parent was okay with it." Harry shot the Death Eater a mad grin. "I doubt your dad's okay with you being about, but I decided you're old enough to manage yourself."
Barty snorted. "Does Black not believe in adult supervision?"
"Are you referring to Sirius as an adult?"
The Death Eater laughed at that and gladly took his seat once they'd found them. They weren't in the announcer's box, but they were pretty high up, and that was good enough for them.
As other people started filling in around them, Harry waved down someone wandering the stands with boxes of sweets and some butterbeer. The teen bought some chocolate and a butterbeer for both himself and Barty, then curled up in his seat next to Barty.
"You're going to rot your teeth," Barty muttered, even as he took the offerings.
"I'll have Madam Pomfrey fix them," Harry replied with a shrug, popping a chocoball into his mouth. "All I have to do is blame it on Sirius and she'll never say a word."
Barty snorted and relaxed back in his chair as the mascots came running out.
When Krum finally caught the snitch, Harry was grinning like the cat that caught the canary and Barty was chuckling to himself. The teen had gotten his guest to bet on the outcome with some of Harry's money, and he'd won. They could go collect their winnings, then return to the tent Sirius had pulled out of storage until the portkey to the Leaky Cauldron was set to leave tomorrow afternoon.
"I don't know why you even bothered," Barty commented as Harry bounced a bit, money pouch jingling heavily. "I was under the impression that the Potters had more than enough gold."
"I do, but since I'm waging a war..." Harry turned and waggled his eyebrows at the Death Eater.
"My Lord has money."
"True, but you can never have enough money."
"I suppose."
Harry smiled to himself a bit and ducked into the tent. "I'll start supper."
"A sandwich is fine!"
"You're such a man," Harry commented as he tackled the fridge. "I swear, you and Sirius give men a bad name. I mean, you can't even cook with magic. That is... I have no words for how sad and pathetic that is."
Barty rolled his eyes and went to put his things away in his room. Harry had grumbled about that the night before, too and Barty had just decided that his young Lord was insane – there was more than enough evidence for it – and left it at that.
"You and my Lord have the strangest relationship," Barty commented over their dinner of roast chicken. "Sometimes, when I think he's about to kill you, you smile at him a bit and he backs off."
"We all have our secrets," Harry replied after swallowing a mouthful.
"You mean some of us have our secrets; Merlin knows you know all of mine."
Harry shot him a mad little grin.
Barty rolled his eyes. "You're absolutely terrifying," he assured the teen, which earned him an eye roll. "I'll bet you've got some sort of blackmail on my Lord."
Harry shrugged. "Sure, I've got loads of blackmail on him, just like he's got plenty on me. We're a lot alike, Voldemort and I – more alike than you could ever know – so we get each other. We don't have to curse each other to make our point. That's not to say we don't curse each other, sure, but we don't have to."
"You are, quite possibly, the only fourteen-year-old who could charm a Dark Lord and live to tell the tale," Barty decided. "You two have got to have a lot in common for him to be so nice to you."
Harry snorted. "Let us get something straight, Barty. Lord Voldemort is not nice. He wasn't nice when he was my age, and he isn't nice now. Voldemort and I have agreed that working together was to our mutual benefit, so we've agreed to keep all our disagreements behind closed doors and when one of us has a point, we've agreed to shut up and listen to it fairly. But don't suddenly go around thinking we're best mates or anything."
"You two are just a little bit mad. You know that, right?"
"Know it?" Harry bared his teeth in a parody of a smile, green eyes flashing behind his glasses. "Oh, yes. Be certain that both Voldemort and I are quite aware of our insanity."
Barty shook his head. "What are you planning for the rest of the summer?"
"Oh, Voldemort and I had another lab we were thinking about–"
"No, not what my Lord Xerosis is planning on doing; what is Harry Potter planning for the rest of the summer?"
"Hm. Don't know. Play with my garden a bit more, I suppose."
"...You are strange."
"I like my garden! I put a lot of work into it."
"It's a very nice garden," Barty agreed. "But you're fourteen! Surely you've got more exciting things to do than play with flowers and dirt.
"Mmm... Flying a bit? Reading? Starting another prank war with Sirius... Sure, there are other things. But I like my garden."
Barty sighed. "You are the strangest fourteen year old I've ever met."
"But you love me anyway!" Harry declared, pasting on his winning smile.
Barty couldn't help the smile that curled his lips in response. "I suppose I must."
"So, Anthony was telling me just last week in Diagon that his mum's been going a bit mad at work," Terry commented once they'd all been settled in their usual compartment for a good bit. "It's not the Quidditch Cup, either, he said. It's something else. Something to do with Hogwarts." He glanced around the compartment, eyes stopping hopefully on Luna while the others glanced up from their books or, in Neville's case, plant. "I don't suppose you know anything about it, do you? Your dad's a reporter, right?"
Luna blinked her wide eyes at him innocently. "The Ministry? What do we care for them when someone finally got a shot of a Crumple–"
Hermione shot Luna an irritated look. "If your magazine actually focused on the real world, instead of some–"
Harry cleared his throat. "TriWizard Tournament!"
Everyone was silent for a long moment, blinking at the Boy-Who-Lived a bit blankly. Only Luna seemed to understand what he had been talking about and she smiled a bit to herself and relaxed against Harry's legs.
"Why are you bringing up an archaic tourney?" Li wondered, frowning a bit.
"It's not archaic," Harry muttered.
"It has not occurred in almost two hundred years," Li replied drily.
"What's the 'TriWizard Tournament'?" Hermione asked, frowning a bit. She didn't like not knowing things, but spending most of her free time with four Ravenclaws – two of which were wizarding-raised and one of which liked to pretend he was – had taught her that, sometimes, she didn't know something, but if she asked, they were more than happy to fill her in.
"It's a tournament that was started maybe seven hundred years ago between Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to allow them to prove which school was better," Neville explained, brow furrowing a bit as he tried to remember the stories he'd heard when he was younger. "People used to die in it a lot, though, so they eventually discontinued the practise."
"Beauxbatons and Durmstrang?" Terry parroted, taking his own turn at being the unknowing muggleborn.
"The two other European magical schools," Harry offered, picking his book back up with a faint smile. "Beauxbatons is in France and largely admits students from the western European countries. Durmstrang is somewhere between Germany and Russia – they don't like giving an exact location – and they take most of the prospective students from the eastern parts of Europe, with an occasional Russian student. Durmstrang is well known for their hatred of mundane-borns and their usage of the Dark Arts, while Beauxbatons is better known for its acceptance of part-creatures and use of both Light and Dark Arts. Hogwarts, on the other hand, is well known for its predominately Light curriculum and acceptance of mundane-borns."
"So Beauxbatons is better if you're willing to learn either type of magic?" Terry wondered, eyes lighting up a bit.
"They also tend to be more formal," Li offered, shooting her friend an amused look. "Etiquette classes are required until your sixth year."
Terry mocked gagging at the very thought while the others laughed.
Li cleared her throat and stared at Harry until he looked over his book at her, one eyebrow raised. "You're the one who brought it up," she reminded him.
"Technically, Terry brought it up," Harry pointed out. "Or, more specifically, he asked what has the Ministry in such a flurry and I answered."
"The Ministry wouldn't bring the TriWizard Tournament back," Neville replied, shaking his head. "Too many people died."
"They're more than stupid enough to try it," Terry reminded the pureblood.
"I certainly hope the Ministry knows better than to allow a tournament that people died in!" Hermione cut in. "It's bad enough they allow quidditch–"
"What's wrong with quidditch?" Terry asked, scowling a bit. "It's a great sport to watch–"
"Riding on sticks of wood hundreds of feet in the air!" Hermione cried. "What if someone falls? What if–"
Harry gently nudged Luna with a foot and stood once she'd gotten out of the way. "I'm going to go see Lillian," he told Luna and Li, then left to the sounds of Hermione and Terry bickering. Really, the whole argument rather reminded him of his Hermione and Ron from before. He was somehow both sad and happy that Hermione wasn't all that different and that one of his new friends could take Ron's place. Of course, the argument in general drove him a bit mad; sometimes it was nice to have a friend who didn't get on with the rest of his friends.
"Oh, Merlin forbid," Morag muttered as Harry poked his head into their usual compartment.
"Oh, Morag, how I've missed your shining personality this summer just past!" Harry cried, striding into the compartment and dropping to his knees in front of his fellow Ravenclaw. "I don't know how I've managed to survive!"
"Potter, get away from me before I catch your insanity."
"But Morag, my dear, dear Morag–"
Lillian leaned forward and gently dragged her male friend away from the other Ravenclaw while Millicent laughed and Tracey covered a smile. "Come on, Harry. Not everyone has your sense of humour."
"More the pity," Harry sighed, then hopped up off the floor and plopped into the seat next to Lillian. "I had to get away from Hermione and Terry, so I thought I'd come visit my other bestest friends!"
"Don't group us in with your deranged friends," Morag immediately retorted.
"What were the mudbloods doing this time?" Lillian asked, completely ignoring her other friend.
"Arguing quidditch," Harry replied. "Terry's for it, Hermione's against it. It was funny back in second year, and maybe even a little bit in third year, but it's just boring now."
"Speaking of, I thought for sure you'd be at the Quidditch World Cup," Lillian said, frowning a bit.
"I was," Harry agreed, grinning a bit. "But my friend and I decided it was easier to go in disguise, so we utilised Polyjuice."
"Which friend did you take?" Millicent wondered.
"Probably Boot," Morag suggested.
"Nah." Harry waved a hand, amused. "I don't think you'd know him, since he's a bit older than us. Anyway, he's staying with the Malfoys right now."
Lillian choked. "You didn't take–"
Harry laughed and shook his head. "The Dark Lord? Merlin, no. He hates quidditch. I took Barty Crouch Junior."
The gobsmacked looks on the other Slytherins and Ravenclaw's faces were totally worth admitting to the knowledge that Voldemort was back. And he knew these four wouldn't spread it around, though they might slip hints to other Slytherins. It would be fun to watch the House of snakes while the rumours flew around that Harry Potter was cosy with a convicted Death Eater.
Of course, once the name Xerosis was known in conjunction with Voldemort, the reactions should be even better. Especially since Lillian knew Harry had used the name two years ago. He would enjoy watching the school after Hallowe'en.
"How do you know the Dark Lord hates quidditch?" Morag demanded, leaning forward, eyes narrowed.
"He mentioned it when I brought up the World Cup," Harry replied with a shrug. "So I asked Barty, since I knew he liked it well enough."
"I'm beginning to think you have imaginary friends," Tracey decided. "That, or you're crazier than I've given you credit for." She looked at Lillian, who was shaking her head with a faint smile on her face. "You don't, honestly, believe him, do you?"
Lillian cleared her throat uncomfortably. "You know how I told you I met the Dark Lord at the Christmas Ball two years ago?"
"Yeah, sure. Except you said he looked all human." Morag scoffed.
"What, you think the Dark Lord was born looking like a human-snake hybrid?" Harry asked, amused. "I can just see his mum's face now. Although, given, his mum wasn't much of a looker..."
"Now I know you're full of shit," Tracey decided.
"Yeah, mudblood shit," Morag agreed, smirking a bit nastily. "Your mum was one, after all."
Harry narrowed his eyes, no longer amused. "You leave my mother out of things, McDougal."
"What are you going to do if I don't, Potter? Go crying to her grave?"
Harry snapped out his stolen wand and snapped, "Membrum."
Morag gasped as the Dark spell set her fingers and toes screaming in pain. The curse, known as the Curse of Burning, was a precursor to the Cruciatus Curse, and while the pain build-up was slow, could cause just as much agony as the Unforgivable. More so, if the Curse of Burning wasn't removed from the target, it was fatal.
Harry leaned forward, green eyes gleaming with a dark light. "Let me make myself clear, McDougal: Leave. My. Mum. Alone."
Morag nodded her head viciously in understanding, a whimper escaping her lips as the curse started moving towards her ankles and wrists.
Harry's lips curled with a cruel smile. "I didn't hear you, McDougal."
"Harry, stop," Lillian whispered, gently touching his shoulder. When he turned to her, she swallowed, then added, "Please."
Harry pursed his lips, but ended the spell. As Morag gasped in relief, the boy stood and turned towards the door. Just before he opened it, Morag whispered, "I'm sorry, Potter. I won't... I won't mention your mum again."
Harry turned to look at her, eyes hard. "See that you don't," he said, then stepped from the compartment and down the hall to the nearest men's loo. In there, he stepped over to the sink and leaned his forehead against the mirror, trying to get his temper under control. Morag didn't know it – would likely never know – but it had taken all of Harry's will to keep his dementor ability in check and not suck down her soul or cast the Cruciatus in response to her jab.
There were few things that could upset him like someone talking badly about Lily Potter, but he'd always been fond of his mum and that tiny piece of her he carried in his eyes and temperament. Seeing her say goodbye, watching her give her life for him... His mum had been the most amazing, kind and wonderful person he'd ever known, and he'd only known her for a moment. That someone could find something hateful to say about her...
The door behind him opened and Cedric Diggory stepped in. The Hufflepuff paused for a moment, watching Harry watch him in the mirror, then sighed and asked, "All right there, Potter?"
Harry considered the older boy in the mirror for a long moment, debating with himself. On one hand, he and Diggory had absolutely nothing in common at the moment, not even quidditch, and Harry had been the entire reason Diggory had found out about the dragons. On the other, Dumbledore could very well find another way to let his Champion find out what was coming, and getting to know Diggory at this juncture...
"Just fine," Harry agreed, pasting on an easy, but slightly ashamed smile. "Just some bad food for breakfast. Probably Sirius' fault, knowing how his cooking attempts usually go."
"Oh, alright then." Diggory nodded and stepped over to a urinal.
Harry quickly left the loo at that and started down the passage to his original compartment, seeing little sense in seeing Morag again so soon after losing his temper. He'd keep his eye on Diggory, perhaps. If it was within two weeks of the Task and the boy was still clueless about the dragons, an anonymous note could be slipped to him.
Harry may not have cared one way or the other for the tournament, but he had enough school pride that he wasn't about to make it easy for Krum or Delacour.
Xerosis pondered the buttons in front of him as the other four Death Eaters shuffled into the phone booth. It had a couple of expanding spells built in which would allow a party of no more than seven – something the auror department had demanded back when the Ministry had first moved to the current building after a particular raid had found them with four Dark wizards and three aurors trying to fit into a phone booth which could only fit two if they both squeezed.
Once everyone was in, Xerosis typed in the numbers. "Please state the purpose behind your business at the Ministry of Magic," the pleasant voice requested as the booth started its decent.
"Lord Xerosis and Death Eaters here for the purpose of death and destruction," Xerosis intoned in a bored voice.
"Please enjoy your visit to the Ministry of Magic," the voice replied as five buttons popped out of the bottom.
Xerosis glanced at the buttons, then passed the four stating 'Death Eater, Violence Against Ministry Personal and Property' back to the others behind him, smirking to himself.
"This won't alert the aurors?" one of the extra Death Eaters, a man named Ash Venting, asked.
Lucius snorted. "You're an idiot."
"Now, now, Lucius, not everyone is as familiar as yourself with the intricacies of the British Ministry," Xerosis chastised, glancing over his shoulder at the Death Eaters and smiling a bit. "However, Venting, you really must remember not to question me."
Venting swallowed and tried shrinking back against the glass door.
Xerosis' smile darkened with promise before he turned back towards the front as the empty atrium came into view.
Once the lift came to a stop, everyone shuffled out and the Death Eaters turned to the apparent vampire to await his orders.
Xerosis glanced at the statue in the fountain, considered his options, then turned back to the Death Eaters, content to change it on their way out. "Lucius, you're the most familiar with the Minister's office and the subsequent offices on the first floor, so why don't you pick either Venting or Robbins and tackle that. The rest of us will start our play on the second floor, taking out the aurors and subsequent personal. Meet us there when you're done, since the second floor will likely be better staffed than any other floor except, perhaps, for the Department of Mysteries. Once those two floors are done, we can tackle the rest of the building."
When the Death Eaters had nodded their understanding, Xerosis led the way to the lifts and called one. Once they were all on it, Lucius motioned to Robbins and drew him to the side to discuss their attack plan.
Barty glanced at Xerosis, who was humming a bit as the lift continued its journey. "My Lord, do we have an attack plan?"
The boy smiled at him. "Now why would I want one of those?" he wondered.
Barty sighed and shot Venting a glare when the younger Death Eater opened his mouth to comment.
"I do very much like you, Barty," Xerosis decided. "Yes, we have a plan. I want you at the lifts, watching for anyone who might step from those offices on the hall. Venting will come with me into the auror offices, where we will deal with our friends there, quietly, if at all possible." He glanced at Venting, who shuddered and nodded his understanding. "Once they're taken care of, we will deal with those offices. If, by some miracle, Lucius and Robbins join you before Venting and I return, you may start on the offices together."
Barty nodded. "Thank you, my Lord."
Xerosis reached up and patted Barty's cheek, a fond expression on his face, then turned and led the way out of the lift as they reached the second floor.
Barty remained behind them, as ordered, so Xerosis led the way forward to the auror offices, pulling out his wand. He shoved the door open, took a moment to spot all seven aurors in attendance, then snapped, "Obretio!" Before any of the aurors could properly react, they found the malleable items nearest to them – a potted plant, a drape, a blanket hidden under a nearby desk or their clothing – wrap around them and make them incapable of moving, other than two of them falling over.
"Accio aurors' wands," Venting whispered and twenty-ish wands soared towards the spot he'd been standing in, falling to the ground at his feet when he directed them down.
A quick spell had the cursed wands burning, then Xerosis collected the rest of them and stuck them in his pocket. Upon seeing the faces of the aurors, he assured them, "You won't be needing them again." Then he turned to the Death Eater at his side. "You've risen in my eyes again, Venting. Good job with the wands."
Venting swelled with pride behind his mask.
"Don't get a big head," Xerosis added, then stalked forwards, twirling his wand in one hand. "Hello, luvs. I'm Lord Xerosis, partner of Lord Voldemort. Voldemort sends his regards and apologises for being unable to greet you himself, but he's busy organising an attack on London which should start, in, oh..." A silent tempus showed the time to be just before six o'clock. "Another hour or so." He smiled at the disbelieving souls. "Don't worry, you won't have to worry about answering the alarm. Venting!"
"My Lord?"
"You may deal with four of them as you see fit." He glanced towards the hallway that led to Arthur Weasley's office, where he could sense another human, albeit, a sleeping one. "Although, make sure they don't get too loud, hm?" he added before sweeping past the aurors and slipping down the empty hallway to the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office.
The man Xerosis only ever knew as "Perkins" sat at his desk, eyes closed and wheezing slightly. The part of the teen that was still fond of his once-father-in-law was glad Arthur hadn't been the sleeping occupant. He had no care one way or the other for Perkins, so he leaned over and absently sucked his soul before reaching out and snapping his neck. The man's wand joined those in Xerosis' pocket, as well as some amusing or potentially useful cursed mundane objects, then he swept out of the office and back out into the auror's office, where he found that Venting was making quite the sport of silently torturing the aurors. One of them was trying to climb the wall while another was beating himself over the head with a paper weight. Two of them, clearly friends, were trying to choke each other, wrestling around on the ground.
Xerosis absently flicked Killing Curses at the last three, who were watching their Imperiused co-workers with horror. He tossed himself into a chair to watch the action, absently tossing a Killing Curse towards the door when a runner from one of the hall offices dashed in.
Barty appeared behind the dead wizard. "My Lord, this floor and the first floor are clear."
Xerosis nodded and got to his feet. "Playtime's over, Venting. We've got another six floors yet."
Venting shot off two Killing Curses – the one who'd been beating himself had died a while ago and one of the wrestlers had choked to death only moments before – then turned and joined Xerosis and Barty in walking towards the lifts, where they met up with Lucius and Robbins.
"Barty, how many people do you want for level three?" Xerosis wondered as they stepped onto the lift.
Barty glanced at his options. "I'll take Venting and Robbins if my Lord allows."
"Go forth and devastate," Xerosis agreed as they stopped at level three. Once the three Death Eaters had left, he smiled at Lucius. "If you see Miss Umbridge, do save her for me. I have just the thing in mind."
"Of course, my Lord," Lucius agreed smoothly as they stepped out into the hallway.
Umbridge was found in the small tea room at the end of the floor. Xerosis took great pleasure in crucioing her and carving 'I am a fat toad' into her hand. Then he grabbed her around her fat throat and bodily tossed her against the wall at the back of the tiny Centaur Liaison Office, smirking viciously at the sound of her fat squelching.
Down the hall, standing over a couple of other Ministry employees, Lucius winced and made a mental note to stay on his second Lord's good side if at all possible.
They all went together into level five and had some fun, then split up for the equally empty levels six and seven. They all gathered together again to tackle the Department of Mysteries, where Xerosis split them up into three groups with Barty and Venting making up one team and Lucius and Robbins making up the other. Xerosis travelled on his own and swallowed a good fifteen souls by taking the offices.
Xerosis also made sure he got the Death Room and the Prophecy Room. In the first, he blasted the Veil to bits, not willing to chance Sirius falling through it a second time, even if it was rather Gryffindor of him. In the Prophecy Room, he picked up the prophecy and dropped it to the ground, where it broke into a thousand pieces. "Remain unfulfilled," he whispered as Trelawney's voice drifted to the ceiling and faded away. "I'm not the boy you once put your hopes in. I am the Dark Lord Xerosis, and I will see those who murdered my people dead." He turned on his heel and stalked from the room, hunting down other Unspeakables he could suck the souls from.
Once they were done, Xerosis silently cast the Parsel communication spell the Dark Lord had taught him and murmured, :Ministry is emptied of all personnel I could sense. London attack is a go.:
As they walked past the fountain, Xerosis stopped and concentrated for a moment to transfigure the statue into a warning. The four Death Eaters shuddered to see the two Dark Lords glaring down at them, wands raised in a threat. Standing behind Voldemort and Xerosis were four Death Eaters, masked faces blank and Dark Marks bared as they pointed their wands towards the doorway to the lifts and the security wizard's desk.
Xerosis finally led the way to the apparation zone and they all returned to Malfoy Manor, which was already empty of the second party, gone to tackle London. "Venting, Robbins, go home. Take a night off and get some sleep. Barty, you'd best make yourself scarce. Lucius, be prepared to receive any wounded or any suspicious guests from the Ministry or Dumbledore's Order."
Venting and Robbins both apparated away while Barty went off to assist Narcissa in waiting for any wounded. "Enjoy the rest of your Hallowe'en, my Lord," Lucius murmured, bowing low before the boy who was the same age as his son.
Xerosis gently removed Lucius' mask and considered the man. After a long moment of silence, he nodded and handed the mask back. "Enjoy your Hallowe'en, Lucius," he murmured before shadowing away. In the Death Eater's eyes, he'd looked for any deception, any disgust at serving a teenager, and he'd found none. When he finally revealed his true form to the Death Eaters, he knew he'd have at least two allies among the troops.
"Did you hear about the attacks last night?" Hermione whispered as Harry slid into the open seat next to her in Charms. Terry and Kenneth took the seats in front of them while Li settled in next to Neville behind them.
"Good riddance to bad rubbish," Stephen muttered.
"They were innocent muggles!" Hermione hissed.
"Steve was talking about the Ministry," Harry commented drily as he pulled a quill and some parchment out. "And of course I heard about it, what with the racket you lions were making."
Hermione huffed. "It's a big deal! Over two thousand killed!"
"There are plenty of muggles, Granger," Morag spat, coming to a stop at Harry's shoulder. "Don't get your knickers in a twist over them. I'd be more concerned for the eighty killed at the Ministry."
"At least the Dark Lord was focussing on the mundanes instead of the magical people," Harry pointed out, glancing at the rogue Ravenclaw.
"It's wrong that he's killing anyone!" Hermione cried.
Morag sneered at the Gryffindor and stalked away to her usual seat – as far away from Harry and his friends as she could get.
"And you!" Hermione added, turning on Harry once Morag was gone.
"Sixty million," Harry replied in a monotone.
Hermione blinked in surprise, rant completely cut off. "What?"
"That's how many people were killed in World War Two by mundane weaponry. Approximately."
"What does that have to do–"
"Over fifty percent of those were civilians," Harry continued. "Over three thousand were magical. That's almost twice the number of magical deaths from the last war with Voldemort." He glanced over at her. "Who is worse?"
Hermione stared at him, appalled. Before she could come up with a response, Flitwick had entered the room and quickly started class. He, like many of the professors, looked worried and a little sick.
Harry wondered how long the teachers had thought Voldemort might have been back before that attack. Snape certainly had his suspicions, and Dumbledore had likely shared them, but as for the other professors...
As soon as class was over, Hermione grabbed Harry's arm in a steel grip, eyes burning. "You can't believe that muggles are evil, Harry. You grew up with them!"
Harry considered her for a moment, then commented, "Approximately seven mundane-borns a year are killed by their parents, Hermione. It's because I grew up with mundanes that I know what they're capable of. You've often told me that you were shunned in school for your brains. Imagine what would have happened if they'd known you were magical." He gently removed her hand from his arm. "I understand that there are nice mundanes out there, mundanes that deserve to live; don't think me completely against them. But don't believe I will cry over their deaths, either."
He turned and left with his classmates, falling in next to Stephen. Li and Terry had stopped walking with him when he'd given them much the same speech that morning over breakfast. A spell would keep them from spreading his words on to anyone else, but they were certainly capable of thinking about it.
Harry's only sadness was that he may have just lost all of his friends in one fell swoop. Only Lillian and Luna remained. Stephen stood by him; the boy had no love for mundanes, though he held no particular hatred towards them, either.
He wondered how long it would take Dumbledore or his pet spy to realise that Harry was spending his time with a different crowd. It would be interesting to watch.
"Why do you hate them so much?" Hermione asked one afternoon a week after Hallowe'en. Harry had been working on a paper for Moody in the library when the Gryffindor had approached, Neville standing nervously in her shadow. "And don't give me more numbers."
Harry considered the two from behind his glasses before waving them into seats and discreetly casting a silencing spell over their table. "I am afraid of them," he admitted, comfortable enough with his fear to accept it. "They far outnumber us and they have more devastating weapons. I know you never believed that my relatives were cruel to me, Hermione, but they were. They hated me because I had magic, something they couldn't fully comprehend. Something they couldn't fight. If they hadn't been so afraid of the potential backlash, they would have happily seen me dead."
"They would never–"
"Hermione, for once, stop debating with him and just listen," Neville murmured. "Please?"
Harry was beginning to understand why Hermione had even bothered searching him out. "You've heard plenty of stories about Terry's brother," he offered. "If you ever got the boy into a room, tied to a chair and completely helpless, what would you do to him?"
"I..." Hermione sucked her lower lip into her mouth and chewed on it a bit. "I don't know."
Harry leaned forward, smiling at her knowingly. "Yes you do."
Hermione turned away, face burning in shame.
"People – both mundane and magical – are ugly, vicious souls. We're all very much alike, and when we find someone with something we don't have, something we crave, we react one of two ways: Either we become jealous and become hateful, or we accept that we'll never get any closer than that person and we cherish them. How do you think most mundanes would react to knowing there were people out there with magic? People who carried in their pocket a weapon more lethal than a common gun? People who could point a stick at you and erase everything you've ever known in the blink of an eye?"
Hermione swallowed, picking at a groove in the table. "They'd hunt down every magical person they could find and kill them," she whispered.
"Even the smallest children," Harry replied grimly, eyes dark with memories of war. "Mundanes kill one another because their religion is different. They kill each other because they have different coloured skin or prefer their own sex. They kill each other to make a statement or even because they're sick of the world and they don't want to die alone."
Hermione shook her head. "And wizards aren't just as bad?" she snapped, fire in her eyes again as she stared at Harry.
"We're all human," Harry replied with a shrug. "But if I have to pick between mundanes and magical people, I'd pick the magical people. Call me a hypocrite. Hate me if you'd like, but that's how I see the world."
"You're as bad as the Slytherins and their purity of blood nonsense!" Hermione shouted, jumping to her feet.
Harry met her furious look with a resigned one of his own. "Yes," he agreed, "I suppose I am."
Hermione let out an aggravated sound and stormed off.
Neville glanced towards where Hermione had gone and back towards Harry. Harry smiled at him. "Go after her. You're her best friend, not mine. I'll have Lillian and Luna, but without you she'll have no one."
Neville rose and paused to chew his lip. "What you said, Harry... It made a lot of sense. But Hermione..."
"Go, Neville," Harry replied. "I knew a long time ago that this would happen. Don't worry about me."
Neville glanced at him. "You were my first friend," he whispered. "When you looked at me, even when I first bumped into you, you saw the person I could become, not the idiot I was. Thank you for that."
Harry shot him one last smile, then turned down to his paper as Neville's footsteps walked away. "It was the least I could do," he whispered to his quill. "You're not an idiot, Neville Longbottom; you're one of the bravest men I've ever known. Your parents would be proud; I know I am."
He banished his work to his room, then left the library to find Luna. Her mad sense was exactly what he needed.
"Are you intending to go to the dance?" Lillian asked as they worked on repotting their most recent assignment in Herbology.
"He already asked Luna," Stephen offered from Harry's other side. He, Morag and Lisa Turpin were the only members of their year in Ravenclaw who would talk with Harry anymore, so he often found himself partnering with one of them in various classes. At that moment, he was working with Stephen, Lillian and Millicent, with Morag and Tracey at the next table over with some other Slytherins. For all that Lisa spent time with Harry, she was still mostly welcomed by the other girls in their year and often sat with them when Harry didn't require a partner.
"Why would you ask Loony when you could have asked me?" Lillian demanded, puffing herself up importantly.
"It's not fair for me to only ever dance with you, Lil," Harry replied, rolling his eyes. "And I like Luna."
"You're the only one that does," Millicent muttered.
"It's the new thing," Harry retorted. "No one likes me anymore, so everyone else around me is trying to find ways to become unpopular. Next thing you know, they'll all be painting black around their eyes and sulking around like a cult of demented vampires."
"You are a disturbing individual," Millicent decided.
"It's part of his charm," Lillian offered, giving Harry a pitiful look. "But I've been turning down all sorts of offers just so I could go with you."
"It's not against the rules to take two dates," Stephen helpfully pointed out.
"And dance all night? Merlin, no. I'll be hanging up my feet next to my dancing shoes."
"Disturbing," Millicent commented.
"I kind of like the idea of two of us going with you, Harry."
"Now who's disturbed?" Harry muttered, rolling his eyes. "Lil, I'm not taking both you and Luna. I will dance with you at least once, but you'll have to find a different date."
Lillian managed an impressive pout. "Come on, Harry."
Harry decided his daughter had pulled that particular expression off better than his friend and shook his head. "Not giving in to you, Lil."
Lillian sighed. She'd just have to go with a Slytherin after all.
Chapter Five, Part Two
Pro - If We Could Only Turn Back Time / 1 - Long Road
2 - Never As It Seems ||| 3 - The Bad Man, the Sad Man ||| 4 - Armies of Robbers and Thieves
8 - Reach Any Star ||| 9 - Cold Fields ||| 10 - Ice Inside Your Soul
11 - King of Anything
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Date: 10/6/11 00:36 (UTC)no subject
Date: 10/6/11 00:38 (UTC)